My Bedtime Companion
I rarely sleep alone—not that I have a choice in the matter. The night always starts and ends the same. I knock back a few sleeping pills, take off my clothes, and let myself get drowsy. Then, every night, I wait for her face to appear. No matter how many sleeping pills I take, I can feel her arrival. Sometimes she’s just a face, and other times she’s a jaggedly rearranged torso. She paces, too. Or glides like she’s on a conveyor belt back and forth, her eyes never leaving mine. Eyes wild with rage.The nights when her body lies beside me, I find us face to face. Her lips are always agape, as if she’s mimicking my horrified reaction. My whole body becomes liquid with fear, and I bolt upright to escape, but I can never make it past my bedroom door. My legs fail me and I’m suddenly in a heap by my dresser drawer. That’s when she kneels, purses her purple lips together, and utters the only words I’ve ever heard her say since that night: “You shouldn’t have killed me.”
Blurred Vision
I got my first pair of glasses last week. My parents didn’t think I needed them at first, but the doctor said that there was something wrong with more than just my eyes. He said that my situation was fairly common and that I needed a special prescription of lenses “for my own good.” He said that many people were never given the chance to see the way I would, so I was lucky to get them. I thought he meant cars and distant words would become less blurry, but over the span of a couple of days, I started seeing nightmare creatures. All around.I’d never seen them there before, like in the corners of my room and in darkened parking lots. I took my glasses off for the first time today, and let me just say, it’s amazing how quickly demons and creatures turn into trees and shadows. I know I’m not seeing the truth. But I’m a simple person. I’d rather things remain blurry, just as they are for everyone else.
The Closet Light
When I was a little girl, I used to read every night before going to bed. I always kept my closet light on to help me read, but it also helped me feel more comfortable and secure in the otherwise dark room. I felt so comfortable, in fact, that I’d often forget to turn the closet light off after reading. But one night, it turned itself off.
Don’t Look Up
Don't be scared of the ghosts and monsters—just look for them. Look to your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, and in your closet, but never look up—she hates being seen.
The Door
When we first bought our house, I found a random door in our basement. However, when I tried to show my wife the door, she asked me if I was pranking her because she couldn’t see it. No one else that I’ve shown the door to can see it or feel it, and when people started getting worried, I dropped it to save face. The only reason I bring it up now is because the scratching from the other side is getting louder, and I feel the door will not hold it back much longer.
The Grandfather
My grandfather told me a story about how he was once sitting in a chair in front of the house when he heard his wife repeatedly calling him from inside the house. The thing is, my grandmother passed away a few years before that. That being said, my grandfather told me that the voice was so pressing that he actually got up to look inside the house. As soon as he got inside, he heard a loud crash behind him and turned around to see that the chair he had been sitting in moments ago had been crushed by a cast iron gutter falling on it. If he hadn't gone inside the house, he would most likely have been seriously injured. I don't know if it's paranormal or not, but every time I think about it, it sends chills down my spine.
The Graveyard Dare
A group of teenage girls decided to have a big sleepover at a friend’s house, due to the fact that her parents were away. After turning out the lights, they started talking about an old man who’d recently been buried in a nearby cemetery. The rumor was that the man had been buried alive and could be heard scratching at his coffin, trying to get out. One of the girls laughed at the idea, so the others dared her to go visit the grave right there and then. As proof that she’d actually gone, she was dared to drive a wooden stake into the earth above the grave. The girl left, and her friends lay waiting for her to return.However, several hours went by, and the girl failed to return to her friends. The rest of the girls lay awake, terrified. When morning came and the girl still hadn’t appeared, the whole group went down to the cemetery. There, they found the girl lying on the grave—dead. Some believe the old man’s ghost reached up from the grave to kill her. Others believe that, when she bent down to drive the stake into the ground, she caught the hem of her skirt and, believing the buried man had grabbed her, died of fright.
The Grocery Run
I was trying to get home when I found myself lost in a dark alleyway. I started to feel myself getting claustrophobic, and I felt as if the darkness was surrounding me and pulling me in. I ended up stumbling into a man carrying his groceries. I asked him to help me find my way out of the alley. However, that’s when I began to smell a strong, rotting stench. As he turned to look at me, with an evil, bloody smile, I realized that those weren’t groceries in his hands.
The Hand
A seven-year-old girl was left with her grandmother in her small apartment while her parents went on a movie date. The grandmother and granddaughter had dinner together and chatted for a while. At about 10 o’clock, the grandmother picked up her knitting, and the girl turned on the TV. They sat like this together until the grandmother got thirsty and asked her granddaughter to get her a glass of water. The girl protested, saying that it was too dark to walk to the kitchen. The grandmother replied, “Don’t be scared. Follow the hallway. There’s a switch right next to the bathroom door.”The girl got up and felt her way along the walls of the hallway, groping for the light switch. As she reached the bathroom, she stopped and felt around, only to come into contact with a bony hand that tried to drag her into the bathroom. The girl managed to pull away and run screaming back to her grandmother. What exactly happened has never been established, but it is known that no one but the grandma and the girl were alone in the apartment at the time.
The Head Hunter
A family of two young children and their parents was traveling on the road to Yellowstone National Park when their car inexplicably broke down. The parents had no cell service and couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the car, so they started walking toward the nearest town to get help. They left the radio on for the kids in case they got bored. By nightfall, the parents still hadn’t returned. Sitting in the dark, the children continued to listen to the radio and happened to hear that a dangerous killer had escaped from a nearby prison and was on the loose. The newest reporter warned listeners to be extremely cautious when moving about the area.More time passed with the children waiting for their parents to return. It was completely silent outside of the car when, suddenly, the kids heard knocking on the car roof above them: clank, clank, clank. The knocks grew louder and faster: bonk, bonk, bonk. Unable to bear the fear any longer, the children opened their car doors and ran away in terror. Only the eldest dared to look back and see the source of the noise—on top of their car was a large man who was bounding two objects on the top of the vehicle: the heads of the children’s parents.
The Headstone
Every night at midnight, I’d hear a faint cry for help until one night I let my curiosity get the best of me and followed the voice. I wandered through the streets of my small town in my pajamas—fortunately, in the dead of night, there was no one around to see me. I kept following the voice as it grew louder and louder before it stopped completely. I looked around where I stood and ended up staring at a headstone with my name engraved on it.
He Stands in the Window
I don't know why I looked up, but when I did, I saw him there. He stood by my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light. He smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin, and he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib, and I couldn't move. I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.His smile never moved, but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. I couldn’t do anything but stare at his matted hair, yellow skin, and pallid face through the window. I just stood there, frozen, looking into my home, my feet still in the bushes I was pruning. He stood pressed against my window.
A Mother’s Voice
A daughter was in her room upstairs, doing her homework, when she suddenly heard her mother call to come down for dinner. She jumped onto her feet and began making her way towards the stairs, but before she even took a step, a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her into the laundry room beside the staircase.The daughter began to panic before realizing it was her mother, her real mother, who’d pulled her into the laundry room. Her mother stared at her with watery and bloodshot eyes before saying, “Don’t go down there, honey, I heard it too.”
The Prettiest Girl in Class
She was the prettiest girl in the class. I was obsessed with her, stealing glances at her every chance I got, but I knew she’d never deign to speak to me. During class, when I was supposed to be taking notes, I’d be sneaking looks at her. I did the same on the train we both rode after school. Today, however, I wanted to do more. I hopped off the train when she got off and followed her out of the station and onto the sidewalk. I made sure to keep my distance—I wanted to surprise her. It was hard to stay unnoticed, though. She kept taking furtive glances back, so I’d look down at my phone or pretend to tie my shoes each time.When she unlocked the door and stepped inside her house, I crept up the front stairs. My heart was pounding in my chest as I rang the doorbell. A chime sounded from inside and woke up the butterflies in my stomach. Just as I reached up to ring the doorbell again, she cracked open the door and, recognizing my face, gestured for me to hurry inside before promptly closing the door behind me.“There was a guy following…,” she said.“Yeah, it was me,” I replied. The words came out of my mouth before I realized what I’d just said. “I know that,” she said. “But I’m talking about the man behind you.”The doorbell chimed, and the butterflies in my stomach stood still this time.
The Reflection
After several giddy minutes spent making silly faces in the mirror with my son, I sighed, smiled, and held him close. I looked at our reflections in the mirror, in awe of the perfect little cherub I was blessed with.“That’s my boy,” I said matter-of-factly, pointing to my son’s reflection while beaming with pride. My reflection flickered momentarily before an unearthly hand stretched out from the glass and plucked my son from my lap.“No, that’s MY boy,” a guttural voice declared.
Rings on Her Fingers
Daisy Clark had been in a coma for over a month when the doctor declared her dead. She was buried on a cool summer day in a small cemetery about a mile from her home. Late that night, a grave robber, armed with a shovel and a flashlight, began to dig her up. The earth was still loose from the recent burial, so the grave robber quickly reached the coffin and opened it up. His hunch was right—Daisy had been buried wearing two valuable rings when she was buried: a diamond wedding ring and another adorned with a brilliant ruby.The grave robber knelt down and reached inside the coffin to take the rings, but they were stuck on Daisy’s fingers. He decided that the only way to get them was to cut off her fingers. However, when he took out his knife and began to saw at the flesh with the blade, Daisy’s fingers began to bleed and her body began to twitch. Suddenly, she sat up! Terrified, the thief scrambled to his feet, accidentally breaking his flashlight in the process.In the dark, the robber could hear Daisy emerge from her grave. The thief stood frozen, clutching the knife in his hand. On seeing him there, Daisy covered herself with her shroud and asked, “Who are you?” Hearing the “corpse” speak, the grave robber ran. Daisy shrugged and kept walking, not bothering to look back. Seized by fear and confusion, the thief fled in the wrong direction and fell headfirst into the open grave and onto his own knife. Daisy walked home.
The Rocking Horse
One night, when I was maybe 10 or 12 years old, I had trouble falling asleep. My bedroom occupied the entire top floor of our house, with my bed on the left side and a storage closet and play area on the right. I was lying in bed when I heard a noise from the other side of the room. I looked over to see a rocking horse beginning to rock. It was sitting just outside one of the storage closet doors. It proceeded to rock its way halfway across the room and stopped dead under the ceiling light. At this point, I was freaking out and just buried my head under my blankets and didn’t look out again until morning.When I woke up, it was all confirmed to not be a dream—the rocking horse was still in the middle of my room. Furthermore, I got a stern reprimand from my parents for being out of bed and playing with my toys well past my bedtime. Their bedroom was directly below the storage closet and play area, so they’d heard the creaking of the rocking horse shuffling across the room.
Who’s In the Bed?
A father went to say good night to his seven-year-old son, knowing that, if he didn’t, his son would have trouble sleeping. It was a nightly routine between them. He entered the dimly lit room where his son waited under his blanket. At first glance, the father could tell there was something off about his son tonight, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He looked the same, except that he had a grin that stretched from ear to ear.“You okay, buddy?” the father asked.The son nodded, still with that grin on his face, before saying, “Daddy, check for monsters under my bed.”The father chuckled a bit before getting on his knees to check, only to satisfy his son. There, under the bed, pale and afraid, was his son. His real son. He whispered, “Daddy, there’s someone on my bed”.
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