One day at a shopping mall in the afternoon, a woman was coming out of the mall from a shopping spree. She was in a happy mood. She had gotten to her car and loaded her stuff that she had bought into her trunk. When she was done loading, she shut the door of her trunk and she saw an old lady standing by the passenger side of her car.

The old woman said “Would you be a darling and give me a lift home? I don’t have a car and I was walking all day.” The woman said “I’d be happy to.” So she unlocked the door for the old woman. As she started to make her way around the car to the driver’s side, she started to feel uncomfortable. So when she got in the car, she looked in her purse and said “Darn, I can’t find my credit card. I’m going inside to see if anybody found it.” The old woman said “I’ll wait for you here.”

The woman left to go look for help. Then she found a security guard and told him the situation. They went back to the woman’s car and the passenger door was wide open. On the seat of the car was a shopping bag that the old woman had been carrying. Inside of the bag was the old woman’s dress and a gray haired wig, along with a huge butcher’s knife, a video camera, and a roll of duct tape.

He was between us and our houses, and the bus had already pulled away, so we bolted for the bushes of a nearby yard. We weren’t sure if he had seen us, but we peered through the leaves and saw him stalking our way, muttering randomly. Tim, my neighbor, insisted that he’d seen a large knife in the man’s ragged clothing. Danny, a kid I hardly knew who had just moved into the neighborhood, insisted that he was imagining it – that Tim’s glasses must have reflected the sun wrong or something. Still, we were terrified, and the sidewalk was going to bring him right by us.

It was Tim that broke and ran first, keeping low. I followed, my heart pounding, as we dove into the darkness underneath the porch of the unfamiliar house we’d been hiding near. As we squeezed our bodies against the dirt, the grimy wood pressed into our backs, barely giving us enough room to breathe. From our hiding place, we could see the disturbed man turn into the yard in front of us and begin searching around, hitting the bushes and muttering angrily.

I realized then that Danny wasn’t with us, but I hadn’t seen where he’d gone. Tim had lost his glasses back at the bushes, and he just huddled in the shadows next to me in near-blind terror. We stayed there in silence, waiting. Every so often, whenever I almost thought it was safe to come out, footsteps would creep across the wooden porch above us. Tim almost sneezed, once, but I covered his mouth and nose in stark fear.

We waited there so long that the tone of the sunlight began to change. We hadn’t heard the man searching about in awhile, and I was just getting ready to peek out, when footsteps clattered and a thud hit the wood directly above us. A split second later, Danny’s face appeared in front of us upside down, and he looked at us through the lattice. A look of shock and surprise crossed his features at finally finding us. He whispered something, but I couldn’t hear anything. He seemed to be saying “come closer,” so I figured the horrible man was still around and we had to be quiet, and I inched forward.

Danny’s features grew fearful, and he kept indicating something above us. Strangely, I still couldn’t hear him… his eyes seemed to dim then, and I inched forward a little bit more. I froze for a moment in horror, then backed up. Tim mouthed to me: “What did he say?” and I just shook my head, completely in shock. Danny hadn’t conveyed “come closer,” he had mimed “he’s up there.” The drifter was unknowingly sitting right above us, waiting, because he knew we had to be somewhere in that yard.

There was nothing to do but wait in silence, trying not to scream. I was glad Tim had lost his glasses. I lay there as darkness descended, waiting in unwavering terror and trying not to feel the glassy stare of Danny’s severed head as it rested in the grass a foot away.

So-and-so’s friend, a girl in her teens, is babysitting for a family in Newport Beach, Ca. The family is wealthy and has a very large house — you know the sort, with a ridiculous amount of rooms. Anyways, the parents are going out for a late dinner/movie. The father tells the babysitter that once the children are in bed she should go into this specific room and watch TV there.

The parents take off and soon she gets the kids into bed and goes to the room to watch TV. She tries watching TV, but she is disturbed by a clown statue in the corner of the room. She tries to ignore it for as long as possible, but it starts freaking her out so much that she can’t handle it.

She resorts to calling the father and asks, “Hey, the kids are in bed, but is it okay if I switch rooms? This clown statue is really creeping me out.”

The father says seriously, “We don’t have a clown statue.”

The phone line goes dead.

Don’t Turn on the Light 

Submitted by hayleyownsmyheart

She commandeered the room in the basement of her dorm as soon as she realized she would have to pull an all-nighter in order to prepare for tomorrow’s final exam. Her roommate, Jenna, liked to get to bed early, so she packed up everything she thought she would need and went downstairs to study … and study … and study some more. 

It was two o’clock, when she realized that she’d left one of the textbooks upstairs on her bed. With a dramatic sigh, she rose, and climbed the stairs slowly to her third-floor dorm room. 
The lights were dim in the long hallway, and the old boards creaked under her weary tread. She reached her room and turned the handle as softly as she could, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, so that the hall lights wouldn’t wake her roommate.

The room was filled with a strange, metallic smell. She frowned a bit, her arms breaking out into chills. There was a strange feeling of malice in the room, as if a malevolent gaze were fixed upon her.  It was a mind trick; the all-nighter was catching up with her.

 She could hear Jenna breathing on the far side of the room—a heavy sound, almost as if she had been running. Jenna must have picked up a cold during the last tense week before finals.

She crept along the wall until she reached her bed, groping among the covers for the stray history textbook. In the silence, she could hear a steady drip-drip-drip sound. She sighed silently. Facilities would have to come to fix the sink in the bathroom…again.

 Her fingers closed on the textbook. She picked it up softly and withdrew from the room as silently as she could.

Relieved to be out of the room, she hurried back downstairs, collapsed into an overstuffed chair and studied until six o’clock.  She finally decided that enough was enough. If she slipped upstairs now, she could get a couple hours’ sleep before her nine o’clock exam.

The first of the sun’s rays were beaming through the windows as she slowly slid the door open, hoping not to awaken Jenna. Her nose was met by an earthy, metallic smell a second before her eyes registered the scene in her dorm room. Jenna was spread-eagled on top of her bed against the far wall, her throat cut from ear to ear and her nightdress stained with blood. Two drops of blood fell from the saturated blanket with a drip-drip noise that sounded like a leaky faucet.

Scream after scream poured from her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself any more than she could cease wringing her hands. All along the hallway, doors slammed and footsteps came running down the passage.

Within moments other students had gathered in her doorway, and one of her friends gripped her arm with a shaking hand and pointed a trembling finger toward the wall. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Then she fainted into her friend’s arms.

On the wall above her bed, written in her roommate’s blood, were the words: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?”

One cold winter night, a sixteen year old girl named Brittany Snow, was home alone, watching TV. Her parents had gone out to a dinner party at a friend’s house. It had been snowing heavily all afternoon, but Brittany felt nice and snug as she sat on the sofa in the lounge, tucked up under a warm, fuzzy blanket.

By midnight, Brittany’s parents were still not home, and she began to feel uneasy. She didn’t want to call them, in case they thought that she couldn’t take care of herself.

The television was in the corner of the room, right next to the big bay window. She was watching one of her favorite movies, a horror film named Prom Night, when suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something moving in the bay window.

Through the darkness and the falling snow, she could make out the figure of a man, walking towards the window. As he got closer, she was able to make out his face and it filled her with horror.

The man’s face was hideously scarred, his eyes were wild and crazy and he seemed to be grinning maliciously at her. Frightened, Brittany pulled the fuzzy blanket over her head and tried to hide. She hardly dared to move.

Slowly, she pulled the blanket aside just enough to peer out with one eye. The man was still there. He was just standing there, staring directly at her as the snow fell behind him. Then, he reached into his coat and pulled something out. It was a long knife.

Terrified, Brittany pulled the blanket back over her head and hoped that the madman would think it was just a pile of blankets sitting on the sofa. She managed to move her hand slowly over to her pocket and took out her mobile phone. Pressing the buttons in a panic, she dialled 911 and held her breath as she waited for an answer.

When the operator asked “What is your emergency?”, Brittany put the phone close to her face and whispered “There’s a man outside my window. He’s got a knife. Please come quickly.”

She sat motionless under the blanket as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, she heard sirens outside and the police started banging on her front door.

Brittany pulled off the blanket and rushed to the front door, letting the two police officers inside. They said they had seen no trace of anyone outside her house.

“He was right there”, said Brittany, pointing out the bay window to her snow-covered front lawn.

“That’s not possible”, said the female officer. “There couldn’t have been anyone standing out there. The snow is completely undisturbed. If there was someone out there, they would have left footprints.”

“But he was standing right there, staring straight at me”, said Brittany. “I saw him with my own two eyes.”

“You know, your eyes can play tricks on you”, said the male officer. “Maybe you’ve been watching too many scary movies”.

The officers turned to leave when. all of a sudden, the female officer stopped dead in her tracks. She pulled back the sofa that Brittany had been sitting on. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in shock. Brittany and the male police officer gasped.

On the carpet behind the sofa, there was a trail of wet footprints and a discarded knife.

“You weren’t looking at the man outside the window”, said the female officer. “You were looking at his reflection. He was standing right behind you all along.”

The north side of Hanbury Street is now covered by the sprawling mass of the buildings that were formerly the Truman Brewery. It was built on the site of number 29 Hanbury Street, in the back yard of which at around 6am on 8th September 1888, the body of Annie Chapman, Jack the Ripper’s second victim was discovered.

At 6am on 8th September 1888 John Davis, an elderly resident of 29 Hanbury Street came downstairs, walked along the narrow passageway and opened the back door. The sight that he saw shook him to the core. Moments later two workmen walking along Hanbury Street were suddenly startled when the door of number 29 burst open and a wild eyed old man stumbled into the street. “Men” he cried “come here.” Nervously they followed him along the passageway and looking into the yard saw the mutilated body of Annie Chapman.

Her dress had been pulled up around her knees, exposing her striped stockings. A deep cut had slashed across her throat; her intestines had been tugged out and laid across her shoulder. Missing from the body were the uterus and part of the bladder. The contents of her pocket were found lying in a neat pile near to the body. The brass rings that she had been wearing at the time of her death had evidently been torn from her fingers and were never discovered. And, just a few feet away from the body, there lay a folded and wet leather apron.

In the days of the brewery it was often noticed that a strange chill drifted through the boardroom at 6am on the anniversary of the murder and it was also reported that Annie Chapman’s headless ghost was sometimes seen standing by the wall of the storeroom that occupied the spot where she died.