Harrowing Tales Horror Stories

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In 1985, a young woman runs the one-hour photo counter at the back of a drugstore. She reads every roll of film on the light table, frame by frame, and she's proud that she forgets every one of them a minute later.

In this original horror story, a woman looks back on the year she developed two hundred strangers' photos a week, writing each customer's name and phone number on the envelope by hand, and saving every dollar of commission toward a car of her own. In March, a roll comes in with no people in it at all: thirty-six photos of the inside of a house, room by room, in daylight. The man pays cash for double prints. The address on the envelope is on her street. Then a customer asks who ordered reprints of her family's photos, and the box on the envelope is ticked in a way the narrator can't remember doing.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of a 1980s photo lab, the pictures people leave with strangers, and what can pass through your hands without you noticing. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

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📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

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In 1994, a small-town locksmith takes every after-hours callout he's offered. He's fast, twenty minutes door to door, he's proud of it, and in six years he has never misjudged a house or a customer.

In this original horror story, a man looks back on the nights he spent opening doors for people locked out of their own homes. The procedure is simple: open the door, then check a piece of mail with the customer's name on it, get a signature, and write the address on the ticket. It's what every shop in the county does. One November night, a customer signs slowly with his left hand. A month later, on a snowy night, the storm door has clearly been standing open for an hour, and the homeowner walks up late on foot. Then, in January, while the locksmith kneels in an entryway changing a lock, someone starts walking around upstairs.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of a night locksmith, a routine that everyone trusted, and the doors one man opened without ever asking who was on the other side. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

In 1979, a young father works the graveyard shift alone in a highway toll booth: four hundred cars a night, a quarter, and four words, "Thank you, drive careful." He's so good at being forgettable that he can't remember a single face.

In this original horror story, a man looks back on the twenty-two months he sat in lane four from eleven at night to seven in the morning, taking the night differential so his wife could finish nursing school. The booth is the safest place on the highway, with steel bollards, a locking door and a direct phone to the supervisor. Then, one October night, a car with a rough, hunting idle pays exact change and drives off, and forty minutes later it comes up the ramp again, going the same direction. A few nights after that, while he's smoking on the apron, he sees a man standing at the fence just past where the light ends.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of a night shift toll collector, a highway in the small hours, and a stranger who knows more than he should. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

In 1990, a driving instructor with his own dual-control car takes private students off a card pinned to the hardware store corkboard. The second brake pedal on the passenger side is the one thing that makes the job safe, and he hasn't needed it in four years.

In this original horror story, a retired driving teacher looks back on the summer a thirty-eight-year-old man paid for a block of six lessons, saying he'd never learned to drive and was embarrassed about it. On the first morning, the student is already sitting in the locked car. He checks his mirrors a beat late, as if he's just remembered to. He parallel parks perfectly on the first try. By the fourth lesson he's asking to practice on quiet gravel roads out past the county line, and on the way back he takes a turn toward the instructor's house without being told.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of a small-town driving school, a student who learns too fast, and a man who trusted the one thing under his foot. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

In 1981, a young man runs the overnight shift alone at his father's small-town radio station, midnight to six, six nights a week. Twice an hour, the law requires him to say on air where he is and exactly what time it is.

In this original horror story, a son keeps the family station on the air through the night so it can be sold to pay for his father's care: farm reports, obituaries, requests from truckers, third-shift workers and insomniacs. One of the regulars is Alma, who calls every Thursday for the same record. It's a two-room cinderblock building on a county road with a tower in a bean field behind it, and he knows every sound it makes. So when the studio door starts standing open and a late caller asks him the time, he finds a reason each time and keeps working. Then one night, Alma calls, and she doesn't ask for her record.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of late-night radio, a voice in the dark that everyone can hear, and a man who never realized who else was listening. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

For ninety years, one rule held in her family: nobody goes on the north side of the creek. Nobody could ever explain why. Every April, she picked morels in the woods below her grandmother's house alone, before dawn, and kept the patch a secret.

In this original horror story, a woman looks back on the springs she spent foraging the family's forty acres of hardwood bottoms, the way her grandmother taught her when she was six: pinch the mushrooms off, never cut them, and carry a mesh sack so the spores fall as you walk. Then, one April, she finds a row of morels already taken, sliced flat at the base, the cuts still wet. Every spring after that, whoever is cutting them stays a day ahead of her, in the exact order she works the ground. And she remembers the one story her grandmother ever told about those woods, from 1937, when she was fifteen.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of family secrets, foraging at dawn, and something in the woods that knows your path. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

For eleven seasons, a drive-in owner walked the rows with a flashlight after the last car had left. In the fall of 1983, his final season, he kept finding one speaker missing from the back row, its cord cut clean.

In this original horror story, a widower runs a small-town drive-in theater alone. He climbs a ladder to change reels every twenty minutes and sells popcorn in between, which means that for minutes at a time nobody is watching the booth or the counter. The ground has been sold, the furnace at home has quit, and he needs every dollar from the last few nights. So when a speaker keeps vanishing from post nine and he notices a strange worn band on the pole, he puts it down to wear and tear and runs the season out.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of an empty drive-in after dark, the last nights of a small-town business, and something that stood very still for a very long time. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

In 1998, a young mother on a quiet rural route takes catalog orders from her kitchen table. The rule is always the same: take the address, then read it back slowly, so the caller can stop you if it's wrong.

In this original horror story, a woman looks back on the fall she worked overflow calls from home, taking orders at night while her two-year-old slept and her husband worked second shift. She bends the rules once, for a caller who says he can't wait on hold, and gives him her direct number. Weeks later, a man calls, asks her to read an address back to him slower, and hangs up without ordering. Then the phone starts ringing after nine, when the company says no calls are being sent to her. She puts it down to a crossed line. Out there, on a wet night, a crossed line could do almost anything.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of a work-from-home job, a telephone in a farmhouse kitchen, and a caller who seems to be listening for something. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

The summer she was twelve, in 1987, a heat wave came, her mother bought a box fan, and she ran it in her bedroom window every night. It was the best sleep she ever had.

In this original horror story, a woman looks back on a hot July on a quiet gravel road outside town, where everybody knew everybody's truck by the sound of it. Her room was the one at the back corner of the house, with a low windowsill she loved. On the rare nights the fan went quiet, from a blown fuse or a summer storm, she could hear slow footsteps in the grass right outside. So she worked out a system and kept the fan on high every night after that. It worked. Then, in September, her father went out to mow the back yard.

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of childhood summers, the noise we fall asleep to, and what it might be covering up. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.

Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts, send me a voice note.

For nine years, a restaurant's closing manager carried the night's takings to the bank. It was the same four blocks every night at ten minutes to midnight, and the same route, even though he'd been told to vary it.

In this original horror story, a father looks back on the 1970s, when the extra forty cents an hour for carrying the deposit was the money he was saving for his son's summer course. He loved that walk: the empty square, the traffic light changing for nobody, the smell from the bakery. Then one night the bank's night drop wouldn't take the bag, and something was jammed deep in the chute. Soon after, the restaurant phone started ringing at 11:40 with nobody on the line. One April night, a polite stranger standing outside the bank tells him, "You're early."

A slow-burn, unsettling tale of small-town routine, a stranger who pays attention, and the one night the narrator wasn't on that walk. No gore, no jump scares, just quiet dread that stays with you.

🎧 If this one got under your skin, follow Harrowing Tales for new scary stories every week, and leave a rating to help other listeners find the show.

📺 Watch the illustrated version on YouTube: Harrowing Tales

All Harrowing Tales stories are original works of fiction.