Ear Hole Horror

Marty Lang flips storage units for a living. Four hundred dollars, sight unseen, ninety seconds behind a yellow line with a flashlight. Unit two nineteen is mostly junk — a rug, some coats, golf clubs — and one steamer trunk somebody tucked a moving blanket over like a kid in a bed.

Inside it is a ventriloquist dummy in a good tuxedo.

It starts small. Salt in the sugar jar. His bootlaces tied in a neat bow on the porch. Then the dummy is sitting at the bottom of the stairs at two in the morning, and he's warm to the touch. Then the fires start, and a man dies in one. Then his best friend's brake lines get cut.

Marty burns the thing in a barrel and it comes back with its hair combed.

A full-cast horror story about a haunted ventriloquist dummy, a small Ohio town, and a locksmith who has a key to half the houses in it. Contains graphic violence, strong language, and one dummy who thinks he's very funny.

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#Chester #HauntedDoll #Creepypasta #ScaryStories

A man cleaning out a dead man's farmhouse plays a record nobody has touched in a hundred years. By the next morning, the woman who was standing closest to him is dead.

Lyle Mattson fixes small engines and hauls junk in Rathbun, Minnesota, population sixteen hundred. The estate cleanout at the old Sallander place is supposed to be eight hundred dollars and a long Tuesday. Then he finds the crate of shellac seventy-eights, and the sleeve with no name written on it, and he drops the needle just to hear if the machine still works.

Three minutes of a hundred-year-old dance band. A love song about looking everywhere and finally finding the one.

Then people start dying — in augers, in split rims, in fires, in ways the county writes down as accidents because nobody else was standing where Lyle was standing. It takes him three weeks and four funerals to work out the rule, and the rule is simple: whoever is nearest to him when the music starts is the one who doesn't survive it.

The only way to stop it is to get away from everybody. So that's what he does.

A full-length horror story from Ear Hole Horror. Contains graphic violence and strong language.

Intro and Outro Piano music by Michael Hughes.

It Had To Be You - Marion Harris 1924 Public Domain

A scarecrow hangs on the ninth post at the far edge of a Minnesota cornfield. Every morning, it's one post closer to the house.

Rachel Kessler moves back to her father's farm with her six-year-old son after a stroke leaves the old man unable to speak. There's no money, no job, and no way out. There's a padlocked barn, a book in a burn barrel that won't burn, and nine T-posts running out to the treeline — eight of them empty.

"The Ninth Post" is a full-length rural horror story about caregiving, poverty, and the thing that has been waiting on the Kessler farm since 1881. Told in first person by a woman who counts the posts every single morning with her coffee.

Content note: contains profanity, disturbing imagery, and depictions of illness and death.

Ear Hole Horror publishes original long-form horror narration every week — folk horror, creature horror, isolation horror, and cosmic horror. New episodes weekly at minimum.

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Piano Music By Michael Hughes.

Something is standing in the tree line at the edge of my property, and my dog saw it before I did.

Emmett lives alone on forty acres of pine and swamp maple at the end of two miles of gravel road. It starts with a shape between two birch trees at sunrise. Then claw marks four feet up the henhouse wall. Then a footprint twice the length of his boot. Then a deer, opened down the middle and stripped of every scrap of hide — the meat left behind untouched.

Whatever is out there is patient. It circles the house at night. It scrapes the siding. And on the fourth night, it starts whispering against his bedroom wall — not words, not a voice he recognizes, just sound shaped like the idea of talking, practicing.

His brother Gary is an hour and a half away and won't be there until Saturday.

A slow-burn rural creature horror story about isolation, a loyal dog, and something that takes skin but doesn't eat the meat. Narrated for listening in the dark.

⚠️ Contains graphic violence, and character death. Listener discretion advised.

🎧 New horror narrations every week on Ear Hole Horror. Subscribe so you don't miss one.

A broke twenty-six-year-old babysitter starts hearing things through the four-year-old he watches — things nobody could've told her. Then his roommate goes under the house to prove him wrong.

What starts as a late-summer float trip down the Wanasa River turns into a slow-motion descent into something ancient, patient, and wrong. When four friends take to the water to outrun grief, they realize they aren't alone on the river—and that the things watching them from the banks know exactly who they are. Subscribe and leave a rating for more Ear Hole Horror!

Coop has been clearing out dead people's houses for thirteen years. Cat houses, bottle houses, the ones you smell from the curb. He thought he'd seen the floor of it.

Then a county job on Fettering Street. Ninety-one-year-old hoarder, no family, dumpster coming at ten. A braided rug in a filthy kitchen, clean as the day it was made, and a man's boot-track bending around it for forty years.

There's a door under it.

And under that door there's another one.

A story about the work nobody wants to do, the houses nobody wants to enter, and a debt you thought you already paid.

⚠️ Content note: strong language, drug references, death, animal harm (implied, non-graphic), and themes of guilt and addiction. Not for younger listeners.