Vote for your favorite story and they will win a pizza!

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Thank you, again, to all who participated! It’s been super fun and super spooOOOoooOOoOooky!


This Tale is based on a Real history.

It was the Begining of the 70´s. My Father, who was a History Teacher at that Time, was in a normal hot night on my Home Town, Mante Tamaulipas (I´m Mexican BTW).


My Father was in the Company of two Cousins of him, Two Nurses. Well these Nurses were on a dark Room, only with the glimmer Light of a Light Bulb in another Room. My Father went to see what they were doing.

What He found was my two cousins sitting on the Ground, playing with the Ouija Board. They were asking silly questions and laughing from the answers, since it was a mystery if it was in truth a being from the spiritual world...Or someone was moving the thing.

When they detected my Father Presence One of his Cousin asked him to join the Fun, My Father said No, Since he didn´t believe in such things, although they convinced him to make a Question without touching the thing.


With that, My Father had the perfect Question. One that no one would know, specially someone like his Cousins, some Nurses from a Litle Town in the midle of Nowhere.

He Asked “Who Was Herman Göring?” That was the perfect Question! Since that´s a name that unless you were German a Normal Person Wouldn´t Know, for Short, Göring was the Comander-In-Chief of the Air force on the Nazi Regime, back in the World War II.

The Answer he got give him a Chill on his Spine and make him Cold Sweat... “He Was a Bad Pilot” Was the answer he got...How? How would his Cousins, the Nurses from a Litle Town in the midle of Nowhere knew that? How Would they know that Göring was a Pilot and even make an opinion about his Flying Skills?


After Hearing that, My Dad said that he will go for a Walk and left...He Didn´t returned home that night and decided to stay at a Friend´s House, since he refuced to go Home until that Ouija Board was still in the House. Lucky for him, his Cousins went to work the next morning and after that went to their own house after that, taking with them the Ouija Board.

The End.



The god looked down upon what terrible fortune at it had brought on the lowly creature. A mere child looked up at him with a quizzical expression in its eyes as he wept. Its lips had been removed, though the rest of its body had retained it’s form. It’s hands were bloodied and gaunt. Beneath it lay a mess of entrails and gore. Bite marks riddled the corpse at the child’s feet as it peeled another fresh slab of meat from it and devoured it in a single bite. The god could not look away from the abomination for fear of what it would do next. The child stood on its feet and with its grisly smile softly hissed “Do you approve of me now, father?”

My creator started with my consciousness. As bone grew and flesh wrapped tight around it, I felt immense pain, even though I wasn’t even born yet. I felt the hot rush of blood filling my veins, just as my veins spread across my body. My creator stood tall over me. He appeared frightened. The other slid in between us, and took the brunt of his wrath. The force knocked me over. I felt the warmth of my own blood as part of my face sloughed off. I couldn’t help it. I laughed heartily as my affliction took over. I slid on hands and feet over to the Other. She was smoking. Her bones were charred, meat… Smelling so wonderful. I’d forgotten about it… The only thought was the meat. The hunger took over, I ate ravenously… I eyed the creator… N O… Y-YOU… Can’t have any…. He teared up watching me… Jealous, JEALOUS! MINE…. I ate another piece. He must’ve seen enough and went to get his own.. Errrghhhaa…. He has NEW I have OLD. I must… eat new… I ran. Growths forming on my body. S-strange… The hunger disappeared. Pain. Growing… Flesh parted as seeds fell from my body. New ones. New ones spreading even more new ones. I tried to eat. TERRIBLE. Yuck. We all shrieked. No meat here. I smell new Meat. Father. I see him. OTHERS. ALL with MEAT. Want. Want. Want. Want. Bites. Mine. Gods. Shriek. One sick. Grab the legs. Bite. Chew. Suck. Break the bones. Suck the marrow. I’m laughing again… Others… Oh the others. But this. So good. Father’s going to be mad at me. Oh… Is father. Oops. New meat. Nooo… Want this. Mine. Want that. Want all. Kill the others. Take the meat. Red Gravy everywhere. They stopped screaming. No… Meat can’t be new if it’s not screaming…



Delivering pizzas is one of those crappy jobs where at the very least, when you finally quit you have some weird stories to tell your friends. The noisy frat bros who never, ever tip, the hot girls who show up at the door in a towel that you pray falls off, and those fat, hairy guys whose towels you pray stay on. The weirdest one was why I eventually quit. The place I worked at was a local joint owned by one of those guys who even if he had a PhD in advanced calculus still looked like they would own a pizza shop, and he merely embraced his destiny. For two weeks straight he would give me the same route with the same order to the same address. The pizza and house themselves weren’t weird, but the guy who always answered...he wasn’t quite right. He’d only open the door a crack to throw out the bills and snatch the pizza out of my hands before slamming the door in my face without saying a word. He looked like somebody who’d be on an episode of cops, with a grungy tank top and watery, unfocused eyes, and just behind him I could always see a woman with her back to the door, quietly sobbing until that door was invariably slammed in my face. For thirteen days in a row: money, snatch, sob, slam. Then on the fourteenth door he answered again...but this time the sobbing woman couldn’t be heard, or seen. It was easy to see something wasn’t right, and my gut told me the worst had happened. That crying woman was now dead, but I had no proof. So I raced back to my store, anxious and upset and searching for the owner to give me advice on what to do. I ran to the back kitchen, yelling my boss’s name as I opened the swinging door, finding him using his teeth ripping to rip out the liver of my now dead coworker.



Once upon a time, a group of seven people and a Furby were hunting zombies for a competition (4vs4) to see who could survive the longest. Furby declared, “whoever survives the longest, I will buy a pizza for.”


It was a close match, with both teams losing members left and right. Eventually a zombie ate me, and that was the end. But! My room mate was the sole survivor in the end. Furby then said, “OK, you win a pizza!”






The hospital I work at is haunted by at least two ghost. One is a child about 7 or 8. She only appears in one room at the foot of one bed there. The hospital is celebrating its 150 year anniversary and the building is the second oldest in its history, the first is just an office building. The floor she resides is currently a GI floor but was once an OB/GYN, then a Physc floor. She stands at the foot of the B side bed in room 182 on the north side of the building. Patients ask, while I used to clean in there, “hey when I was dozing off last night I saw a little girl stand at the end of my bed. Do you know who she is?” “O that is just a ghost. She is harmless.”



He could feel them watching him, as they always did. The eyes followed him wherever he went, but were never there when he tried to look back. The boy told his parents, but they took it for a childhood game. They ignored him when he cried in the night. Needed to learn, they would say. He hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks, for he could feel the eyes come closer if he tried.

The one solace the boy found was holed up in his closet. He began spending all his time in the closet. He could feel the eyes watching from outside the door, but they seemed far away from him.


The parents, thinking they were helping, one day took the door off the closet. The boy had nowhere left to hide. That night, feeling the eyes watching him, he knew the only thing left he could do. He stole his father’s lighter, sat down in the closet, and set the room on fire.

As the fire consumed the room, he finally saw the eyes, and they watched him burn.



A man wakes up, and is immediately confused as he has no memories of who he is. He looks up to see a horribly ugly woman in front of him, who tells him: “And now, what is your final wish?”

The man questions her “Last wish? Don’t I get three wishes?”

“Yes,” she sighs, “but you’ve already used your first two. Your second wish was to undue your first wish as if everything was as it was before, so here we are. Now, what is your last wish?”


The man thinks about it for a second and says “Well, since I can’t remember anything, I wish to know who I really am!”

“Funny,” she chuckles. “That was your first wish.” And the woman disappears.



Behind the Curtain

There it was again.

That sound. Like helicopter blades. Elisa peered out into the dark from her bedroom window but it was too dark to see anything.


She sighed and shut her window. Awake now, she stared up at the ceiling letting her mind wander over all the bogeyman and monsters that she knew.

Pumpkinhead, Freddy, The Wulgaru… CandleJack

She giggled at the last one – a machine gun burst of too loud laughter that she stifled quickly. None of them made noises like helicopter blades.


There it was again.

Thwup thwup thwup pause thwup thwup thwup

Elisa’s eyes went wide and sweat made her hands and arms slick as she pulled herself up from her bed.


Dracula, Frankenstein, Pennywise

As she peered out her window again she debated calling for her parents. She was almost nine now, though, and if she yelled Toby would hear her. Toby would tell all his friends what a baby she was and then she wouldn’t ever be allowed to watch them play playstation again. Although it was still pitch black she saw, or imagined she saw the darkness shifting. As if the night were the curtain in a big play and someone was behind it pushing.

Thwup thwup thwup pause thwup thwup thwup

It was coming more frequently now. The pause between the two sets of noises shortening. She decided she’d just go see if her daddy was up. He usually stayed up pretty late at his computer. She tiptoed quietly out of bed and crept to her dad’s office. There was light streaming from under the door so she deduced he must be inside.


Jersey Devil, Swamp monster, Beholder

Her dad sat languidly watching something on his computer screen. He saw her, removed his headphones, and frowned. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

Relief washed over her as she ran to him and buried her face in his side. “Daddy, I keep hearing a monster outside my window!”


Thwup thwup thwup pause thwup thwup thwup

Grey Taylor looked at his daughter and for a fraction of a second she could see that he was scared. Then his face reasserted normality and he said, “That sound? That’s probably just….a window shutter hitting a house or something. Do you want to sleep in our bed?”

Jason, Aliens, Tommyknockers

She nodded and grabbed his hand, holding on as if she were afraid she’d drown on the way to his bed. When they arrived she could tell immediately that something wasn’t right. Usually mommy slept with a fan on but it was silent in the room. The second thing she noticed was that the window was open even though daddy had grudgingly turned the air conditioning on earlier in the day (“Have you seen our electricity bills?”) She looked to her dad but he too had a puzzled look on his face. He went to the window and stuck his head out.


Thwup thwup thwup thwup thwup thwup

She heard him gasping and his arms shot out the window, flailing at something only he could see. She heard him cry out in pain. With growing alarm she realized she could see a thin rivulet of blood begin to seep down the right side of his face. It made its way down his neck and then began to stain his flannel jammies with a spreading pool of reddish brown.

Thwup thwup thwup thwup thwup

Thin brown sticks began to come into view. Her mind completely shut down, all Elisa could do was watch as a segmented brown body attached to monstrously large wings (they’d be bigger than toby each, she realized detachedly) floated into view.


Thwup thwup thwup thwup

The wings fluttered and flapped. Finally, the triangular head became visible and she was able to piece together what was going on. The giant brown creature’s proboscis was buried in the side of her daddy’s neck. He turned his head and tried to speak, tried to tell her to run away, but instead a torrent of bloody vomit spewed from his mouth. He staggered. As if in a daze, he pulled his head inside the window with enough strength to dislodge the proboscis. It was at this moment that Elisa snapped back to reality. She ran to her daddy and slammed the window shut. The moth coiled it’s proboscis up and with terrifying speed, fired it at her. It reminded her of the party favors she’d found so fun at last year’s New year’s party. She had blown into one and it had uncoiled just like this thing’s - *crack* The proboscis hit the window with enough force to shatter the glass. Elisa screamed and turned to her daddy. He was down on one knee now and looked at her beseechingly. She ran to him and hugged him, tears streaming down her face. He spewed more blood onto her nighty and went frighteningly still. As her head rested on his shoulder, she saw with growing horror that her mother was in bed. Where her head should have been was a mass of gristle and wet red bone. Worse, in the shadows, behind the door the darkness was shifting, as if someone was pushing on the night.

Thwup thwup thwup

Elisa closed her eyes and waited to wake up.



We were just relaxed around each other. We met in June, he’d made some joke about his deformed hand, we were talking and hanging out regularly by July, and in August decided we were serious, whatever that means. Time flew by. I was getting my Masters on the weekend upstate spending so much time there so often it just seemed worth getting a place there, so I sold my place and moved in with him staying at a little, tiny place of my own on the weekends.

By spring I matriculated and the engagement was on for summer. We had stars in our eyes sure but it was love. I remember taking him to my parents place to tell them everything. It was honestly the first time I’d spoken to them in years. My sisters were better at finding husbands than I was in that way that made me really uncomfortable. About being alone with that house. It had taken years and I could never get really intimate with anyone. But it was my life, I was safe in my appartment with my 2 cats and 3 rabits and an Xbox. But he helped me change all that. Within a few months my life had completely changed and become something different. Until that terrible weekend.
He had gone to some sort of business for work, he was in sales at a place downtown, and we were going to be married anyways, so I finally decided to look at what was on his private computer. Since then other girls tell me that’s one of the first things they do, but I never really had much practice with a regular sort of thing. But I couldn’t of imagined, yeah there was sex stuff, but there were pictures of bodies. Terrible stuff, I’d never seen anything like it. Throats cut open, eyes just blank, these girls didn’t deserve that. But eventually I got through the pure disgust and something else took over. Where did he get these, why did he have them? Looking the images over eventually I noticed in one, barely on the edge, my fiance’s hand. It was unmistakeable. Eventually I collected myself, I needed to get out of there. It was just one movement and like it was a blink of the eye I was at my folks place screaming about it.That’s when my phone rang. She picked it up before I could even create the words. I realized he had figured it out, he had to, everything was just sitting out. I launched myself in the car and set off. He knew I was at my folks I had to leave. I realized the one place he wouldn’t be was home, I could drop in and grab some clothes and my pets. But when I walked in the door something was too quiet too humid. I felt like something bad had just happened and everything was just sucked out of the room. I went upstairs, expecting to find him with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his head. No, he had run a tub and drowned my pets. I could smell the smoke, all of the sudden, I realized the place was on fire.


He was getting rid of the evidence, of our lives together. And the last place he knew I was was my parents place. The house was eerily similar when I got there. I don’t know what I expected but they were gone. Dad had been a struggle, it looked like. I didn’t have any more tears.

The authorities told me I was found by some kids a fewmiles off from my parents house. They had been out wanting to get a look of the commotion and found me on the way back to their house. I wasn’t crying though, all that was gone from me. Finding out I was pregnant was one of those defining moments. I knew something good would come out of this.

I move, travel, I try not to stay in one place too long. It’s easy enough to get a waitressing job, I figure it’s a new shitty lease on life in a way. And when I read in the paper or see on the news about a missing girl I always have to really judge whether it’s time to move on or not. Cause he’s out there. These stories on the news of these dead girls, remember there are people like me, people who wonder if they know who did it. “She had the wrong color hair, she was too old” it goes on and on. But eventually it hits and I realize it’s him, he’s still out there. A reminder. In the darkness he’s out there, he’s pulling towards me. And I run. I’ve always been running.



Out of the corner of her eye, the shadow moved across the wall. Ignoring it, assuming it was only her mind playing tricks, she continued to read, “And then Goldilocks headed up the stairs...”


Her daughter laughed and waved toward the wall, saying “He’s so funny.”

“Who is?”

“The dark one.”

The mother raised an eyebrow.

“He’s going to kill you tonight.”



I love urban legends, particularly scary stories that supposedly happened to someone. Usually they come from the friend of a friend. However, this story was relayed to me first hand, directly from the person it happened to.

There are supposedly multiple supernatural presences west of my hometown in Box Elder County, Utah. I’ve heard many stories of ghosts, but this was something different. As best as I can tell, from the description and my research into it, this is a story of a skinwalker.


When I started my career in HR, I worked for a DOT regulated company. The DOT requires that if a driver has more than a certain number of hours or miles on the road they need to take a rest break for at least another amount of time (I believe it’s 6 hours rest for every sixteen hours on the road- it’s been a few years).

When I’m training a new driver, I train him on our policy for “sleeper berths” and he tells me “Oh yeah, I know. But there’s one place I’ll never stop again.”

He describes a small pull off on the freeway between Burley, ID, and Tremonton, UT, which is a whole lot of nothing. The only town of note between the two cities (which are already small) is Snowville, UT, which MAYBE has a population of 1,000. It’s the middle of the night, and he describes an overcast sky, completely devoid of stars or the moon. He’s planning on stopping in Tremonton for the night, but realized he needed to take at least an hour nap before driving the rest of the way into town.


He pulled off, stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, locked the doors and climbed into the sleeper. He laid down and fell asleep pretty quickly. He hadn’t been asleep long when he’s woken up by a strange sound.




He sat straight up. For a minute he didn’t want to look. The sound continued.




Something was lifting the windshield wiper and letting it go, letting it slap against the glass. He turned to see a massive black form crouching on the hood, and for a moment he could see its red eyes flash. It’s right then that realizes that he hears something else- the shuffling sound of multiple sets of feet walking around the truck and trailer in the gravel outside. The dark figure vanishes.


He heard a growling noise outside before something starts to scratch at the door. Whatever it was, it was trying to get in. The sound turned into a metallic rattling. It had found the handle and was now trying desperately to open the door. After another couple minutes of clawing at the door and the handle, it stopped. He could still hear the growling and shuffling outside. Then it stopped.

Then the entire truck started shaking violently, while inhuman noises started outside.

He jumped into the driver’s seat in his underwear and barefoot, started the truck, shifted into gear, and hit the gas, rocketing away as quickly as he could. He made it the rest of the way to Tremonton without any trouble, but wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.


The next morning, he walked around the truck and found scratches on the door.

Whatever it was, it was too big to be anything native to the area… including people.



I grew up on a Caribbean island and lived a rather pleasant, mundane existence climbing mango trees and watching American TV shows that were months or years behind on the one TV station that we had in the country of my birth. That right there is the horror. ONE TV station, people.

The end.

No, seriously, my real story happened when I was about 15, so, a few short years ago ( <.< ) I was cramming for some exams in the wee hours of the morning in the dining room that overlooked our car port a.k.a open-on-three-sides garage that adjoined our house. It was about 2 am and I was determined to finish the chapter and get to bed to get at least 5 hours of sleep before school that day. It was dead quiet. I could hear my grandmother snoring gently in my room, the strains of which were accompanied by the melodic snores of my dogs sleeping just outside the dining room windows near the back door. Everyone was sleeping except me.


At this point, let me set the scene. The dining room was attached to the car port and I was sitting facing out towards the windows ahead of me and one window to the side of me. These windows held no glass, because it was the Caribbean y’all, but they were covered with mesh screens and there were those security bars outside of them. My mother had cute, almost transparent cream-coloured curtains that provided an illusion of privacy on the inside of the windows. Illusion because really, if I could see out, anyone could see in through those. My grandmother’s room was about 15 feet behind the dining room and to the right so she had a clear view of part of the garage through some of the windows in the dining room.

Anyway, I don’t remember why I got up to check on the dogs but I did and went to the side window and peeped outside to find my dogs wide awake, huddled tightly together, staring with wild eyes ahead of them and to their sides while trembling with fear. I called them softly, not wanting to wake my gran who was a light sleeper (I did anyway I found out later) but my dogs would not budge, sparing me a quick apologetic glance that they weren’t obeying my orders. I did not feel good about that at all and it occurred to me that a person might be in the yard but I shrugged it off because had it been a person, my dogs would have attacked so I convinced myself that it was a possum or some such creature that my dogs couldn’t handle. People they could handle but possums and armadillos put the fear of god in them. Go figure.

I resumed my studying and after a minute or so, I felt a warm body press against my lower left leg under the table. It felt like a cat.


We had no cats.

Animals weren’t allowed to live inside the house so we had no pets in the house and there was no way there was a cat in my house. We weren’t cat people and my dogs had never let a cat live to get in to my house so that warm body pressed against my leg was what??!!

I don’t know what happened but I remember that my fear turned quickly to anger and I blurted out, “I don’t have time for this shit so you better get out” and just like that, the warm pressure disappeared. But I had had enough. My anger had dissipated quickly and I needed to get the heck out of dodge. I packed up and high-tailed it into my room where I locked the doors and didn’t sleep well for the rest of the night.


Five hours later, as I was leaving the house, I stopped in to say goodbye to my grandmother. As I was leaving, she said, “You know that man stood at the window for hours after you left, just looking in.”


What the ...?

“There was a man standing at the window?! Why didn’t you call mom and dad?!!!” (the heck?!)


“Oh, he’s not a real man,” granny said, as if she were talking about the weather.

I stared at my grandmother.

Was she crazy?

At some point, later in life, she told me that a cat used to visit her at night.




I never studied late again.



I was always a frail child. I spent so much time at the doctors that I got new drugs as they came out to deal with my illnesses. You know it’s bad when you can say, “I remember when that came out and needed a prescription for that!” before you even hit middle school.

I had always wanted to be an active child, but even trying to run would send me panting to my inhaler and nigh passing out; each illness required a call to the doctors personal number and a few times it was serious enough where the ER began to recognize me. It always felt as if there was some dark and foreboding entity just hanging by the edges, biding it’s time for the one time my inhaler wasn’t nearby or there was a traffic jam on the way to the hospital.

One time it almost happened. I came down with pneumonia, and my fever rose to dangerous levels to the point where I was more unconscious and hanging on than alive. There were brief flashes of lights, dulled voices, street lights, hospital curtains, lab coats, noise, beeping machines, and definitely crying. But it was no more than a few seconds of all of that and never all of my senses working at once.


I don’t know how long I was in the hospital and unconscious, but there were two moments that I remember vividly.

The first I remember waking up and hearing the doctor talking. My eyes were still closed and I was physically tired so I just laid there. I have no clue what he was saying, but all of a sudden I was afraid.

Have you ever gone to a zoo or seen a large predatory animal in person? Have you ever made eye contact with them? True eye contact where you suddenly realize it is looking at you not as a person, but as prey. That moment, where for a second the glass, fence, or wall disappear and that tiny mammal from which you evolved whimpers in acknowledgement. It is a primordial fear, and our response in that fleeting moment is fight or flight.

That was the fear I was feeling.



I screamed. I kicked. I punched. I flailed at every direction possible. With my eyes closed cause I knew if I opened them it was over.

“Mijo! Que pasa?! Digame! Tell me what is wrong!!!”
“It’s just us! It’s just us Jorge! Doctor I’ll help you hold him down just help him!”

There was more shouting, machines chiming loudly, and yet I still kicked and screamed. I was not losing this fight. Heaven and hell be damned.

I don’t know what they did, but they held me down, at least three or four sets of hands while I still was shouting and fighting. I am sure they gave me something because I began to slip into the darkness once again, and all I could hear was my mother’s sobs as I slipped into unconsciousness.


I woke up either hours or days later. I have no idea. This time though I opened my eyes. It was night. There was the steady ‘beep...beep...beep’ of the EKG and a few small lights from the machines. Someone had left the door slightly ajar and a sliver of light entered through the crack and slightly lit up the chair next to it.

There was a man sitting there. He was too tall to be my father or the family friend. He was sitting with both of his arms on the arm rests, slouched back into the chair with his legs open wide taking up a lot of room. Even though there was light from the door, he was black. I could make out his figure but he might as well been a black hole because he just absorbed the light. When I looked at him, I saw his head turn as if to acknowledge my look.

He didn’t say a word. Just sat there and looked at me. Quietly.

I rolled my head away from him and promptly went back to sleep.

Years later, talking to my mother about the entire experience, she says that it was just her and my father waiting at the hospital, but they were always together in my room or just outside it and they never left the other alone in the room. But I saw him and he saw me, and I know that we will see each other again.