Read this story at www.darknethorrorstories.com
https://www.darknethorrorstories.com/english/do-not-search-o-on-the-deep-web-of-youtube.html

Do not search for ø on the Deep Web, YouTube, etc. Scary stuff!
I'm moving the Darknet Stuff back on this podcast.

Enjoy this new story being adding tonight to the Dark Net Horror Stories channel :)
YouTube is a weird place. When it started we were pretty much able to just upload about anything except porn which was fine because I didn’t do anything like that. The fun of it was all of the weird videos, usually art or video projects, that people would upload pretending they were horror stories or scary events. Most were just fake nonsense although some have downright crazy backstories. Some of the videos were held out in the woods or had weird characters. Rubber Johnny was one of them. I think I first watched Rubber Johnny on MySpace, but of course MySpace isn’t the same as it used to be. I’m not even sure which came first but some of these old weird videos date even back into the 90s before MySpace and YouTube. Back in the good ole’ days of the internet before the annoying sites like Facebook, YouTube, MySpace, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and the other social media sites. If you were part of a forum you were part of a family it seemed. It’s not like that any longer. Now, these sites control everything you do and watch every move you make. Your neighbor can report you for saying something stupid and your boss knows your every move. Honestly, it is very disturbing.
Back then weird videos were a dime a dozen. They weren’t censored as much and finding them through Yahoo! or wherever was pretty easy. A lot of it was word of mouth via email or IRC. These days, however, it’s harder to find videos because many sites try to do whatever the politically correct thing is or whatever the government wants them to and blocks scary stuff and weird videos. But there are ways  to get around the blocks from searching. But do you really want to find these videos? If you pay attention you can find them. They use certain phrases or characters that is harder for the search engines to detect. Eventually, it will be found out and a new character will be used when the damage is done.
There is one phrase or character that one should never search on and that is the number zero with a slash through it. This character is usually used as a null character or in foreign languages such as Danish, Norwegian, Faroese, and Southern Sámi languages and has the sound of “ewhh” but it also has a darker theme to it and it is exposed right out there on the surface web on site such as YouTube.
We know the deep web exists on many different platforms over your browser. You don’t get to the deep web through the TOR browser or router, you get to it through your normal everyday browser and network. The websites are just hidden. It’s the same for the deeper videos on YouTube. Supposedly videos using characters such as ø or full stop punctuation, such as a period, are intentionally done so they are not easily found with the bots and most people cannot find them. That is until recently when people started talking about them. These days a lot of it is just clickbait. They’ll take scary clips of pictures and videos and piece them together to make one big spooky video and slap a disturbing thumbnail on it. More often than not the creators just want to do a clickbait type thing on you and put up a disturbing picture they got from some crime scene then rick roll you with it or add some lame video of and animal.
Since I am a really curious person, I love searching for weird stuff. I enjoy the crazy college videos before they became some sort of money making machine where we could watch goofy or creepy videos made by students or just weird people like me. No one charged so it wasn’t as professional. Now we have these social media sites banning many of these videos because they claim they’re not good for us to watch so they censor the content. It’s disgusting. It takes away all of the fun. You can find the stuff though, but do you want to? After a few days ago, I’ll never try again.
See, I’m in hiding right now. I tossed my iPhone and bought a burner phone. I’m sending this in to this website because I’m scared. I took out all of the cash in my bank accounts and went on the road in a car I bought off this old guy for a couple grand. No one knows where I am, not even my parents or my job. I’ve been working on the road to make ends meet but I don’t even know how I’ll get my money out of the bank because I do not want to be found.
I started searching on the ø (zero with a slash) character after seeing a video about it. Most of the videos were nonsense videos. It was obvious they were fake and people just adding a lot of fun, silly content. I didn’t see anything too scary until I got to around the 3rd page of another character from the Greek alphabet. I’m not going to tell you which one it is. I can’t. I don’t want to lead you down the long path of doom. The thumbnails were horrendous and gory, but I just couldn’t help myself but to click. At first, I didn’t know why they used the character but then I realized for this demented person it was similar to a pitchfork, the symbol of the Devil. And wow did those videos look like something from the Devil himself.
There were kidnappings, murders, senseless crimes, and even people confessing to doing crimes. Some people hurt themselves while on other videos people hurt each other. There were fights between people and countries with people dying. Terrorist scenes. Animal and human snuff. But I was addicted. Part of my brain told me they were all fake horror movies while the other side, the logical side, kept telling me there were no way many of these were fake.
I would stay up all day and night to watch. This was during COVID so I didn’t have to get up and go to work. I had my work computer on my right and my personal laptop on my left. If a call came in, I’d take it and then I’d go right back to watching these videos. I had to be fast because many of the videos would quickly disappear. I did hear from another youtuber that many of the videos came from recruiting sites from organized gangs or terrorists from overseas but even that didn’t stop me. Some of them didn’t look like gangster videos, they looked weird. They looked more supernatural or paranormal than gangsters or terrorists.
I soon started missing work calls. I would always have an excuse but management was getting mad at me. They eventually fired me and all that I had left was my personal computer. Jobless, I started working online for random jobs. I’d write reviews for software companies and make ten bucks here or there. I did a lot of book reviews and pimping out links for companies to the large social media base I grew while I was employed.  I started watching those weird zero with a slash videos on youtube and I watched one video where they said I could recruit people and make a hundred bucks for each signup. Now that was cool. It seemed all legit. I filled out a form that asked for all of my info including my social security number. People in the comments were bragging about how much money they made in their own videos. I jumped at it. All I had to do was find people looking for jobs and send them to this job site.
Then something weird happened. I had a close friend who lost his job and I emailed him the link to help him out. I figured he needed it. In a way I felt like a headhunter because I got a hundred bucks every time someone took the job. Most people I sent the ink to didn’t seem to do anything with it. I think they just tossed it because they were employed but he was desperate like I was. He thanked me a million times and that was the last I heard from him until today. This morning I awoke to watch my normal stream of videos and what I saw will disturb me forever. It gives me nightmares still to this day. When I was going through the videos of the day, I came across a thumbnail that looked a lot like my friend. It was a picture of a man on a table looking at the camera. His eyes were open and his body was covered in a sheet. One of his arms hung down from the side and there was blood dripping from the finger into a pool of red liquid on the floor I can only assume that was his blood. The image stared at me with opaque eyes.
I clicked.
The video started in a white room with a clean table. A man, who appeared to be my friend, was led to the table and told to undress then to put on the white blanket over his legs as he sat on the bed. He did. As I looked around the room, I noticed that behind the table there was a large black psi symbol attached to the wall.   The same symbol as the account I’m watching videos on. It was a bit weird to say the least. The psi on the wall looked more like a devil’s pitchfork than anything.
I watched as they pushed a needle into his arm and his body went limp. I could see in his eyes that he was still awake. The assistant who was dressed in all black and wore a black and gold Volto mask moved a tray full of medical instruments to the side of the table where he was standing. The other person, wearing a blue surgical mask and thick-rimmed black surgical glasses that looked more of a Buddy Holly prop, asked for a scalpal and turned to the camera. I will never forget his eyes. They were big bulbs of blackness. There was no sclera at all, just deep pools of black. Then he smiled. I’m not sure which was more alarming, the weird alien-looking eyes or his stained and rotted teeth. Were they even teeth? I don’t know. Most were cracked and broken. Some were grey like he had too much fluoride in the water and others were yellow. Where some teeth should have been, there were posts. No, not posts. These were nails with sharps ends. I wasn’t sure at first but at times when he looked up I could see the head of the nail in his jawline. His front two teeth were nails and I’m sure they came down through his nostrils.
His distorted laughter beckoned me to watch more and I couldn’t turn away. I watched his dirty, cracked fingers grab tools out of the hands of his feminine assistant like a gr

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

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Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

Some Stories are Better Left Untold
by Glasszombie
https://www.creepypastascarystories.com/creepypasta/some-stories-are-better-left-untold-deep-web

Sometimes you shouldn't go snooping around on the internet where you don't belong!

Follow me on social media or youtube at @spookyboorhodes except for tiktok because they will not remove my impersonator. Don't follow that person. For now, follow me @midnightscarespodcast on tiktok. And please report the one who is using my name. They don't have any content or followers.

Thanks for listening :)
Some Stories are Better Left Untold
by Glasszombie
And I’m trying very hard to forget.
I was a student at my local university, planning my major to be somewhat in the field of archaeology, but I never really worked out the specifics of it. Anyway, you all read these stories to get some fear driven in you, huh? The good old fashioned longing for campfire stories goes back, oh, I can only guess, since we as human beings could even understand what fear was.
Of course, I studied all this in my historical literature class. Up until it all happened, I viewed this class to be of the least eventful or time worthy. Actually, come to think of it, the professor, for the most part, had the same attitude as me towards his class. I guess 30 years of teaching the same uninterested college kids will wear a guy down. One day, however, it changed. The professor, Dr. Welford, decided to give the class a new and different type of assignment. It was simple, to the point, and almost too easy. Find a story that incited the most horror into people made post-internet age, and examine the factors of what made it startling to people. When I heard the prompt I had almost been perplexed at the ease that night's homework would be. Aside from all the random history documents I had to look over for the class, this sparked my interest.
I got home that day and fumbled through my backpack for my laptop. But not before dozing off a few times to some late night reruns of Rick and Morty. I must have fallen asleep as when I opened my eyes after what I wanted to be a quick rest, I started towards my computer taskbar to see the time: 3:30 AM. You’ve all heard it before, the classic “wake up at three-thirty" scenarios. But didn’t bother me in the slightest. I'm pretty sure all the university life had practically turned me nocturnal at this point. Feeling rested enough, I popped open a new tab on my laptop and prompted Google for a new search: “Scariest story ever told”. I pressed enter and immediately I was fluttered with the usual garbage BuzzFeed articles, and top ten YouTube videos. I even came across a few Nosleep stories on Reddit, some of which I found myself reading casually. Although being the overlord of procrastination, I finally convinced myself to get to real business.
I flew past a few results and finally landed myself on a Wikipedia page. The page contained a few of the most recently uncovered myths and urban legends of ancient times. The article talked about the basics of storytelling, and how it evolved into the show business that we have today. However, after a few minutes of skimming this, something I thought rather peculiar caught my eye. Along one of the thin columns of sources listed in the article was one hyperlink, simply entitled: “Cow Head”. Fascinated by the randomness I clicked out of my own curiosity. The page that the link led me to was a simple formatted old style Wikipedia page. It actually didn’t look like it had been edited since the old days of the internet, detached from all the rest of the site. I’ll admit, that it gave me a bit of a scare. Don’t know why; it just seemed like the whole page was off.
I skimmed a few paragraphs of what I could make out to be plain Japanese writing. Not traditional though; like something straight out of a child's gibberish, I’d like to say. I had taken a few years of Japanese in my high school so I knew enough to recognize most of the article was nonsensical. There were, however, a few paragraphs of English I could read, mainly just summarizing the danger of a particular folktale of unknown origins with the name “Gozu”. It was probably the most unorganized article I had ever seen on Wikipedia. I don’t remember seeing a single cited source or author anywhere on the page.
“God damned weird,” I thought to myself. I scattered past a few more lines of babble and read the remaining English portion. The article went on to state that the tale of Gozu was not written by man, but by an otherworldly source of darkness. The way it was worded was strange and unnerving. I found myself reading this bizarre page lazily until I felt the burning wrath of my hot-as-hell laptop sitting on me. I checked the time again: 4:11. I decided I would rather sacrifice a grade to avoid 1st degree burns on my lap from my shitty laptop. I sat up and adjusted myself into a comfier, what I like to call “staying up till four in the mourning” position, before tossing my computer aside. Right before I closed it, however, I saw one last thing that stood out to me on the Wiki page. It was blue. Blue text. It had probably been the only link on the entire damn page, which is what I suppose got me.
It was a standard hyperlink which read, “More Info” in plain italics. I didn’t see the point of it at the time, as if it even mattered anyway. I was totally failing the assignment. But, I couldn’t resist. Don’t know what it was. It's just one of those things where you see it, and you can't hold your piece. So I clicked the link.
I should have never clicked that link.
I'm going to warn you: If you're going to be as dumb as I was at this point, and you're thinking you should attempt this for yourself, don't!
The link had led me to what at first was a blank grey page with no address bar or landing screen. As per usual, I thought of this as being a dead-end backlink. Wouldn't be surprised; for all I knew the Wiki page that led me there was probably older than me. Once again, another sign to sleep like a normal individual. Before I could gesture to the back button on my browser, in an instant, the page burst into life with several white chat boxes lining the screen. At first glance I assumed it to be an old forum thread. The most archaic forum page I had ever witnessed, at that. The format of the page was ancient. It reminded me of the earliest software I had worked with in my sophomore computer science class. At least from the mid 90’s. On the site were two clearly inscribed links: “Next page,” and “Search,” with nothing other than boxes of text created by the forum users.
The strangest thing about the place was the absence of a landing page or URL. It was simply a sequence of random numbers with no .com or dot anything. I started skimming through the posts in an effort to find something worth reading. Hell, it was five in the morning, I thought to myself; I had come this far to what had to have been an archaeological discovery for the internet itself. The first sentence I read, starting the first thread was what hooked me.
“So you have the proper encryption tools for this document right?” a user asked. There didn’t seem to be any usernames so you’ll have to bear with me through the characterization here.
Another user replied: “Ha, you seem rather anxious over this don’t you? Lol listen, I got everything a fucked up little horror monger could need.” I read on to the next reply.
“Ok man I am not going to be caught red handed with this thing, you have no idea what the authorities will do to secure something like this.” At this point, I was blown away at what I was clearly reading. It was an old drug crypto drug deal. I would assume before any of this deep web crap existed. I went on to read the last reply.
“You are the one who has no idea what you’ve gotten into. Here's the download to the pdf. Have fun.”
That last bit confused me. Surely pdf files didn’t exist in those days. Definitely not download attachments. I scanned the page for anything else until my eyes darted to a timestamp directly below the post:
Updated 1 hour ago
Words could not describe what I felt after reading that. How in the hell could this page have been updated an hour ago?
I hovered my cursor over the attached document below the last post. For what I could see at that time, there was nothing but a foreign title to the attachment. I hesitantly clicked the file, and after a second saw a download prompt appear at the bottom of my screen. I could now see the file’s name in its entirety. I wasn’t fluent in the Japanese, I had spent the latter half of my high school life learning, but once again I could denounce that it was nothing but gibberish. I ran it through my Norton software twice to be safe. Norton could not run the file for some reason. Nothing. Both times. I kept getting a diagnosis error. Obviously recognizing the mistake I could be making, I opened the document up anyways.
My default Windows' text reader wouldn’t open it either. It would simply display the same error message: “Cannot read application”. It was as if Windows itself knew something was very, very wrong with the document and refused to read it. I finally managed to force run the file using Command Prompt. The file opened with a rich text document.
At first, I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at.
Oh God, why did I open the file?
It was pure madness. All of it. The first thing that got to me was the absurdly large text in pure traditional Japanese. It was obnoxiously big. Bigger than what I thought was the maximum font size for text readers. I could identify that all it said was “Go back” over and over again.
I began reading below the ridiculous text. It got even more incomprehensible as I went along, but I could understand it somehow. I kept reading. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from what they were absorbing. It was evil, darkness, terrible things were flying through my mind as I read on. I kept reading, I didn’t know what the fuck I was reading but at the same time I understood everything. Unspeakable horrors passed through every fiber of my being as I read faster and faster down the seemingly endless pages of foreign tongue. I tried to stop. I knew whatever this was: it was VERY, VERY WRONG.
I had to stop. I tried to pull away with all the strength; I had to stop reading the horrific words. I envisioned endless suffering, fear, an

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
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Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

When I first started the Patreon, these stories were separated. I'm going to upload the older versions that have the whole episode into Patreon over the next few days as I also upload new content. The transcript is below. Enjoy!Cryptids can be the scariest creatures around, especially those you have never seen before. Killahawke does an amazing job at writing up cryptids that are new and frightening. These are creatures that you will never ever want to see on your doorstep or in your spaceship!(click for original credits)
Story 1
Gaze(source)
Mmm… Watching.
I have something I must confess. I have been watching you. Yes, right this second. Unaware of my proximity, I’ve been watching you for the past several days. You have such a lovely home, full of space and dark corners. I like the dark. All that time, I have been in your home just watching you. Well, not just watching, but we’ll come to that later.
I never grow weary of watching you perform your nightly routines before you slip into your bed under your warm blankets. I know the exact moment you fall asleep and I am there to see you awaken in the morning to day break’s new light. I am so still, my stare remains unbroken and undisturbed for hours and hours. You are so beautiful when you sleep. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. Your body is a sensual furnace of heat that radiates endless plumes of vibrant red, orange, and yellow flames as you slumber. I bask in your warmth and light. Your rhythmic rising and falling of your chest is the source of a breath that can ignite the very air around you, announcing to the universe that you are here and you are alive! The beauty of the spectacle can hold me in a trance the entire night until the morning light forces me to retreat to my dark haven. Other nights, I come to you.
You don’t even feel my touch. Up and down your arms and thighs, I touch you with the utmost care. I would never want to disturb you while you sleep. Your skin is so soft and delicate, so unlike mine. Your body is a landscape of ecstasy, with a new wonder just waiting to be discovered and explored. Your aroma is intoxicating and invokes an insatiable hunger that I surrender to and gorge upon. I then quietly make my way back to my hiding place. I am hidden well before the first rays of morning peek through the windows. I am so quiet; you never realize I was there. You awake and go about your life as you would any other day while I sleep content, but still filled with anticipation for what the following night will hold for us.
I see that you have noticed the marks I left behind. Marks on your thighs and arms and throughout your body. I know they hurt and I am truly sorry for that, but things like that are unavoidable when it comes to matters such as these. I am always so careful that my kisses are soft and delicate. I kiss your body ever so lightly and cautiously. I would not dare spill a single drop of your blood.
It saddens me that soon I will have to share you with others. However, I take comfort in knowing that you will be just as beautiful to them as you are to me. I know their touch will be equally as delicate as my touches have been. I know their kisses will show as much tenderness as mine have always had.
My eggs will hatch any day now. The little ones will most likely hide within the mattress and frame of your bed; a trait for which we earned our namesake. I much prefer the nightstand next to your bed. The tiny crevice along its side allows me to look upon your face for as long as I desire. It is from here that I simply gaze and wait for our next encounter.
Good night, sleep tight,Don’t let the bed bugs bite,Wake up brightIn the morning lightTo do what’s rightWith all your might.—Author unknown
Story 2
Late Night in the Hot Tub(source)
Vapor climbs into the night air in elegant, wispy streams. It rises delicately into the air before disappearing. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Light snow is falling. I live alone out in the middle of nowhere. The night is calm and still; the ideal time to grab a glass of wine, strip down and hop into the hot tub.
The steam from the ninety-nine-degree water is refreshing. I lean back, close my eyes, and listen to the comforting water churn and bubble around me. Nothing is wrong in the world right now. I sit content, relishing this perfect moment in time.
That’s when I hear it. Faint stirring and falling of debris tumbling off the rooftop from the side of the house. I think to myself, “Son of a bitch! There’s someone on my roof!” I reach for my towel to cover myself when I see it. A long shaky hand emerges from the rooftop. It explores around, touching each of the roof-shingle as if it is trying to find just the right spot to grip. The other hand appears and does the same; then a third and fourth hand emerge.
As it pulls itself up further over the edge of the roof, its thin and long body comes into full view. It resembles a short, toned male, except for the two extra arms. Its skin is jet-black and rough as if its body was charred and burned. I immediately lower myself into the steamy water as far as I can; the water level is reaching just below my nose. I press myself against the side of the tub, hoping the darkness and billowing steam will hide my presence from this terrifying creature scuttling on my rooftop just ten feet away.
In spite of its trembling, it moves from the rooftop to the edge of the house with the purposeful movement of a tarantula, lifting one hand high into the air before bringing it down, feeling around the surface before moving the next limb. Then it does the impossible. It lowers itself over the edge and begins crawling on the wall! The comparison of this man-spider is now complete. I gasp from surprise, taking in a little water through my nose. I snort and contain my coughs as well as I can. I slide deeper into the water, my eyes just above the waterline.
It jerks its head sharply upward and sniffs the air! My eyes widen. It flicks its head to the left. Tears swell in my eyes from the fear. It twists its head with a snap to the right and inhales the air. I sink even lower and go prone to the hot tub’s wall, my heart thumping in my chest and water splashing in my face.
It resumes snaking alongside my house like a nightmarish arachnid. It goes from window to window, checking to see if any will open. It meticulously pulls on each window frame and presses a clubbed hand against every window pane. Flashes of panic fill my heart at the thought of that horrid thing gaining entry to my home. I try to think of anything within my immediate reach that I could use as a weapon.
Luck seems to be on my side. Every window was locked and shut tight. It drops its shoulder in disappointment and slowly makes its way to the edge of the house, leaps high into the air and lands on a nearby tree. It disappears into the night as if it had never been there.
I slowly slip out the warm comfort of the tub’s water and reach for my towel. One foot over the edge and then the other. The water drips from my body as I exit the tub. Crash! I am paralyzed with gut retching fear from the shattered wine glass I had put on the edge of the towel. To hell with the modesty! I run buck naked for the door!
Ten feet!
I see the shape of a man rustle in the trees. Six eyes reflect the moonlight, and it shrieks a god-awful scream!
Eight feet!
With loud snapping and breaking of tree limbs, it leaps high into the air and lands on the roof’s edge!
Four feet!
I slip on the icy porch, skinning my elbows and knees!
Two feet!
It drops to the ground and scurries on the snow. Yellow drool pours out of its mouth, prominently standing out in contrast to its obsidian flesh.
One foot!
I lay against the door. The doorknob slipping in my wet and trembling fingers! Hissing is growing louder and stronger!
Zero!
I pull myself inside and past the door’s frame, slam the door and lock it! Not a second later, a crash of something slamming into the wooden door booms across the dark house.
I lay with my back against the door in case it tries to force its way through, but no more sounds come from the other side of the door. I turn and slowly lift my head to peer out through the window. Our eyes meet, only a thin pane of glass separating us. It glares at me intently with six unblinking marble eyes, then in a flash, it’s gone.
That was two weeks ago. It still comes most nights; not every night, but most nights. No one has come looking for me. I am too scared to go outside. I can feel it watching me from the tree line. I’ve nailed boards over as many windows as possible. Every day, before sunset, I check every window and every door to make sure they are locked or blocked. It will eventually get inside. It’s getting smarter. It was smart enough to encase my truck in a sheet of silk, trapping me here. The delicate webbing is thin and fibrous, but strong like steel.
It won’t be long before it gets in. It’s getting smarter. How much longer will it take before it realizes it can easily tear through my defenses and take what it wants?
It won’t be long before it gets in. It’s getting smarter.
Story 3
They Mostly Come at Night(source)
“There are no such thing as monsters.” That’s what my mommy used to say. She would tuck me in to bed, make sure that my favorite doll, Casey was in my arms and tell me, “There is nothing to be scared of; there are no monsters, no real monsters.”
She would whisper these words to me mostly at night because that’s when the monsters liked to come out. At night when the walls would vibrate from machinery humming in the service tunnels and sub-

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

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Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

Ol Mother Cleaver by Shadowswimmer77
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Legend_of_Ol%27_Mother_Cleaver

Listen to stories of Halloween, vampires, zombies, witches, creepypasta, true scary stories and the macbre at https://www.scarystorytime.com

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The Legend of Ol Mother Cleaver
by Shadowswimmer77
This is a true story. I know that’s cliché to say. In this day and age, claiming something incredible happened without video proof is a surefire way to make certain people won’t believe you. Everyone does it, though, especially in the realm of the scary and the supernatural. Movies like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the Strangers are supposedly, “based on true stories.” But when you take a look at the events inspiring them, you’ll find an excessive amount of artistic license has gone into the end product. The result, many times, is that the tale told becomes hardly recognizable from its source material. I guess the writers and directors figure reality isn’t scary enough. The story I’m about to relate happened, though, just the way I’m telling it, no embellishment needed. I wouldn’t lie about that because…
Well, you’ll see.
I grew up in a different world than today. The internet wasn’t commercialized yet, phones were still attached to the wall, and kids played outside on afternoons and weekends. The information age is marvelous, an incredible amount of knowledge available instantaneously at our fingertips. Questions that in my youth would have taken days of research at the library to answer are satisfied in moments with a quick Google search. The issue, I’ve found, is having access to such a font of knowledge has made us lazy. We assume, incorrectly, that we can find anything online. If there’s nothing there, if the search results come up empty, it must either be unimportant or simply not exist. That’s not true. Some things, some very real, very important things, have avoided making the digital leap. Things like Ol’ Mother Cleaver.
My mom and I moved to a new town a couple weeks after my thirteenth birthday. My dad was in the army and eventually Mom got tired of pulling up her life and starting over every couple of years. My parents decided to try a “trial separation” and jointly concluded I’d go with Mom since Dad’s lifestyle wouldn’t be ideal for raising a kid by himself. I didn’t get to have much of an opinion in the matter, so that was that.
My mom wanted to live somewhere we could “put down roots.” She said she was looking for a place that embodied pure Americana: small town living but close enough to a big city that you could catch a flight if the itch to travel caught you. And that’s where we ended up, a little town in Pennsylvania not far from Pittsburgh. I’m not going to say exactly where because, well, then I’d consider myself responsible for anything that might happen to anyone looking to corroborate my story. Just think of “It’s a Wonderful Life” and that will give you a pretty good idea.
It was summer when we arrived, a particularly hot one, and I remember flies the size of gumballs flitting through air that seemed hazy because of the heat. Mom got a job as a secretary for the judge at the town courthouse. She worked long hours and, since I wouldn’t be starting school until the end of August, I was left to my own devices from pretty much sunup to sundown. The little two-bedroom duplex she could afford on her salary, even supplemented with monthly checks from my dad, was cozy but didn’t have air conditioning, minus a few ceiling fans that didn’t do much to cool you off. Accordingly, I spent most of my days wandering around town to take my mind off the heat.
That was how I came to meet Tom and Terry, siblings who for that summer became my best friends in the whole world. They were Irish twins, Terry being my age and Tom slightly older. Tom was gregarious and energetic, Terry more reserved and bookish, but despite their differences they shared curly brown hair, emerald green eyes, and a tight-knit bond. Even though we were on a pretty meager budget, my mom gave me a couple dollars a week in allowance that I would generally blow at the old-fashioned soda shop downtown. I first ran into the brothers at the store’s comic rack and we bonded over the latest issue of “Uncanny X-Men” and chocolate milkshakes. Eventually we realized we only lived a couple blocks apart from each other.
From that first meeting on, we were nigh inseparable. Tom and Terry were in a similar situation to me; their mom had died a couple years earlier and their dad worked the night shift at the paper mill just outside town. Most mornings I’d take my old ten-speed over to their house where we’d meet up and head out for the day. The two of them had lived there since they’d been born, so they were able to show me all the interesting things there were for kids to do in town and throughout the surrounding area.
If nothing out of the ordinary had happened that summer, I’d still remember it as clearly as I do now from all the memories I built with Terry and Tom. Every day was an adventure: bike races down Breackneck Hill, cannonballs in the swimming hole out in the east woods, catching fireflies in the twilight gloom, and many others. Looking back now, I recognize the first part of that summer composed the framework to a kind of youthful Eden.
Occasionally we would have sleepovers. The brothers’ house stood on the edge of their neighborhood and they had a large backyard bordered by thick, leafy woods. The oppressive heat thankfully gave a reprieve most days after the sun went down, so some nights we’d build a bonfire and pile sleeping bags into the tent Tom still had from six months in the boy scouts. It was on one of those evenings about two months after I’d moved to town, toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories, that I was introduced to the legend of Ol’ Mother Cleaver.
“You don’t know about Mum Cleaver?” Tom asked with a grin, firelight reflecting off his teeth.
I shook my head, “What, is she some kind of urban legend? Like “The Hook” or “Bloody Mary” or something?”
“Or something,” Terry murmured.
Tom laughed, “Nah, nothing like those little-kiddy stories. The Cleaves is real."
“That’s what most urban legends want you to believe. If she’s so real, how come I’ve never heard of her?”
Tom shrugged, “Probably because she’s local. But she’s definitely real. Our dad told us the story about her one time when he got super drunk. A long time ago, there was this lady that lived in a little house out in the woods with her son. Everyone in town knew she was supposed to be a witch, but because they would go to her for love potions and to help deliver babies, they pretty much just ignored it.”
“Really? A witch?”
“Shut up, that’s what my dad said. Anyway, the mayor’s wife was having a baby, but she died giving birth. The mayor said it must have been something the witch did and got everyone in town all worked up. A bunch of people went out to her house and burned it down.”
I rolled my eyes and speared another marshmallow.
“And now the witch’s ghost haunts the town right?”
“No, Mr. Smarty-pants. The witch wasn’t home. My dad figures she must have been pretty upset about the mayor’s wife and was wandering in the woods when the crowd got there. The only one in the house was her son.”
“And he…”
Tom nodded somberly, “My dad said the witch promised she’d have justice for her son’s murder. But since the one mostly responsible was the mayor, she didn’t trust the courts would find him guilty. So, she took the cleaver she used to cut up the ingredients for her potions and went into town. She used a spell to find out who had burned her house and, night by night, snuck into their rooms and hid under their beds. While they were sleeping, she crept out and used her magic to make her voice sound like their mothers. She confronted them with what they did, then listened to what they said while they were only half awake. If they were honest and admitted to the killing, she gave them a kiss on the forehead and left. But if they lied, she took her cleaver and chopped off their heads.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s pretty unbelievable. They didn’t realize it was the witch killing people? Why didn’t they get another crowd together and burn her at the stake? Why did the witch give them a chance to confess instead of just killing all of them?”
Tom shrugged again, “Look that’s just what my dad told us. Anyway, the rest of the story is once she visited all her son’s killers she disappeared. But, every once in a while, there will be a strange death around town and people will say Ol’ Mother Cleaver must have caught them in a lie.”
Terry spoke up, “Parents around here say if you’re bad and don’t listen then Ol’ Mum will get you. Everyone around here knows about her, mostly because of the rhyme.”
“Rhyme? Like Freddy Krueger?”
“Sort of. I haven’t said it in forever.”
Terry shut his eyes in concentration, trying to remember the words. Then he began to chant in a slow, sing-song voice.
Ol’ Mother Cleaver
You willn’t see her
Hiding beneath your bed.
While you are sleeping
She will be sneaking
Out to cut off your head.
Grinning, Tom joined in.
Bad lil’ boys and girls
Who’re wicked to the world
Best say their prayers at night.
Cause those who steal and lie
Will have a big surprise
When they turn off the light.
Their voices picked up in tempo.
If Mother asks you,
You had best be true
Answering from your bed
Else she will take her
Big, shiny cleaver.
One chop and you’ll be dead!
Abruptly, the rhyme ended, the brothers fell quiet, and for several moments the only sound was the snapping of the logs on the fire.
I cleared my throat, breaking the silence.
“Well. That’s definitely creepy. But I still don’t believe it.”
“You don’t have to,” Tom laughed, “because if you lie the Cleaves will chop off your head either way!”
“No way!” I shouted, “Because if she tried, I’d give her one of these!”
I jumped up and tackled him. We rolled around in the grass, laughing upro

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
https://www.scarystorytime.com/blog/scary-story-submissions

Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

Vampire stories from the 2022-10-08 episode of Splatterday Nightmares on the Spooky Boo Rhodes YouTube channel.

Chatting and intro

Dark Net Horror Stories Creepy Clown Clip
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=1106

Feral Vampire Children by Spooky Boo Rhodes
http://www.spookyboorhodes.com
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=1140

The Ursuline Convent
Written by LadyAbsu
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Ursuline_Convent
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=1649

Cleaving Thought from Bone Clip
https://www.youtube.com/c/CleavingThoughtFromBone
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=2546

You Said Forever - A Creepypasta by The Vesper's Bell
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/You_Said_Forever
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=2606

Phoenix Comics & Toys Clip
https://www.etsy.com/shop/PhoenixComicsToys
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=4233

The Vampire of Sandcastle by Spooky Boo Rhodes
http://www.spookyboorhodes.com
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=4269

Closing Chat
https://youtu.be/6YkW8otEFjE?t=5318

Vampire Stories from the Splatterday Nightmares Livestream and chat for the month of Halloween 2022.
*note that some audio has been removed from the original Livestream.
Feral Vampire Childrenby Spooky Boo Rhodes
The Ursuline ConventWritten by LadyAbsuhttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Ursuline_ConventVampire stories for the month of Halloween 2022!
You Said Forever - A Creepypasta by The Vesper's Bellhttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/You_Said_Forever
The Vampire of Sandcastle by Spooky Boo Rhodes
SoundAbyss by Myuu
Other content used with permission from:Cleaving Thought from Bonehttps://www.youtube.com/c/CleavingThoughtFromBone
Phoenix Comics & Toyshttps://www.etsy.com/shop/PhoenixComicsToysGood evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle, California. I’m sitting here in the beautiful lighthouse overlooking the Sandcastle beach and watching the vampire children out in the sand. They still love the sand, even though they’re not out in the sun. They still play like children, even though the ones who were changed from human will never grow old. Uncanny Valley rings through my head when I see these children whose faces look sweet from afar until they turn toward the lighthouse knowing that I’m watching them.
The whites of their eyes glow with iridescence and their irises are rimmed in blood. For this is what happens after they feed and like normal children, they run around after their supper looking for a game of hide and seek or ghosts in the graveyard. Luckily for me, I am off-limits to the little monsters as I am protected by spells, but others who come here to vacation or live for a new job must be careful. Changlings, the children who were turned by an untamed vampire, are feral at first until they have fed enough to begin to understand their cravings.
The first time I opened my station overlooking the fog and the shores of the town, was the first time I noticed one of the children. Through the thick fog, I saw two small moons hovering somewhere above the large rock on the shore. Even though I couldn’t see her face or body, I knew something wasn’t right. As she came closer, I realized the orbs weyoutubere the eyes of a new vampire. Her eyes were full of fear and distress as can be seen by the glowing of the sclera–something often used to scare others into submission but usually controlled by the vampire.
She hissed as I walked out onto the balcony and cowered down into a squatting position. This poor child, left all alone by some monster to fend for herself. I recognized her as the missing girl from the Duncan family. Such a sweet, innocent soul now left to be damned forever into the night without anyone to teach her the ways of the land. I would take her under my wing, but it is forbidden for a witch to do so. I am not allowed to help the damned in the land of Purgatory.
Children are normally protected from the evil beings that wander the night simply because they are innocent but this child must have done something that she understood as a sin to be damned forever. As I watched her try to inch forward toward me, she cried into the night. Such pain echoed from her scream. Such hunger. I’m sure by now she was hearing my pulse and smelling the blood within my veins like a wild animal would.
Her sad eyes looked into mine and I could suddenly understand what she wanted. Her body ached with hunger. Inside she wanted a burger but her urges were for my blood. As the evil penetrated her soul, her want for human food left and all she craved was the crimson liquid in my veins.
There was no saving this poor child for she could not be trained. The feral instincts were too far gone for anyone to take and make her at least understand that humans cannot be removed from the Earth for once humans were gone and the ferals took over, the vampires would starve and cease to exist. This we all knew to be true. We didn’t know for sure which of the citizens were vampires and the ones we did know about were friends from before. A curse put upon us. No one wanted to kill their friends if the friends were still coherent and somewhat human.
Not all the people here know about the evil in the town of Sandcastle. Some people simply believe there is more crime happening because the city is growing. While that might be true, it isn’t the reason why the area is damned forever and the beings that live here cannot survive in other parts of the world. We are cursed by a spell cast long, long ago and now we are the entrance between Heaven and Hell. A Purgatory if you will–if there is such a thing.
But why should the children suffer? I asked myself as I watched the child test the boundary I created around me with a mix of salt and rosemary. She jumped back as the spark flared at her skin. I could smell the burning flesh as she cried out in pain and then tried again.
“Hey, kid!” A voice echoed from the ledge alongside the lighthouse. A homely looking man with sunken in dark eyes, pasty white skin, and black-rimmed glasses came out from behind the rocks. He smiled as he got closer to the girl. He seemed friendly enough, but I knew about his evil soul. He couldn’t fool me and now finally something might be done about his perversions against children and humanity. Every time a person got close to removing the filth from society, some lawyer would protect him. He hid his sins well and it was about time he paid for them.
“Hey, little girl, what are you doing out on the beach? Are your parents around? I can help you find them.”
I cringed a little when I heard what he said. Everyone knew what he was.
When he got closer to the child, she looked up at him and hissed, eyes glowing fiercely. He tried to run, but as he turned he lost his footing in a large brownish green clump of wet seaweed left from the earlier tide. The man fell to the ground crying out no.
“Help me!” he looked in my direction.
I smiled back and shrugged.
The girl was upon him in seconds with sharp, new teeth gnashing at his neck. He screamed as he begged her to stop but she tore at his flesh with both long, demon nails on her tiny hands and long, sharp teeth. I heard her giggle in delight when she latched on to the gaping hole in his neck that she made while pinning him to the sandy earth. His arms flailed for a moment, trying to pry her off of his body, but the attempt only made her giggle more until his hands fell to his sides and she continued to take the life from him.
I saw her stand up and smile at me. I felt she knew who he was for some reason and I smiled back knowing that her victim would never touch another child again.
Not taking my eyes from the little evil sprite, I watched a large shadow fly over her and the bloody mess beside her. Its shape only appearing as the wind pushed the fog away to uncover the moon’s light. I looked up to see a large bat descending down to the child and landing in front of me. I cowered and hid behind the railing but watched. The shadow became Augustus Alexander, the vampire who lived at the Miller Mansion. He looked over at me, nodded, then scooped the girl up in his arms and flew off into the night leaving the mess of the real monster to be washed away in the next tide.
Stay tuned for story number 2.
The Ursuline Convent
Written by LadyAbsu
New Orleans is a city rich in the macabre. One cannot go far in the French Quarter without passing a site infamous for its ghost and/or vampire lore. If ever there was a source for American vampire stories, New Orleans would most assuredly be that source.
One such destination is the old Ursuline Convent. Located a ways down on Chartres street, this three-story Colonial masterpiece sits behind a high wall accompanied by old gothic iron gates and a lush courtyard. During the day, one can marvel at the beauty of the architecture and the landscape, it’s actually quite pleasant. Completed sometime around 1750, this place holds some of the most gruesome history around.
Some of that history includes accounts of the first vampires to hit the New World. When New Orleans was still an establishing colony, the convent was a “sanctuary” for girls sent from France sent to help populate the colony. Much to their dismay, these girls would unknowingly be sent into the arms of the vagrants and thieves, usually never heard from by their families again. Legend has it that the king of France sent a group of handpicked girls as part of the colony’s assistance. These girls were the poorest of the poor in France, yet they must’ve had something special, for each girl was sent to New Orleans with these casket-shaped boxes of all different sizes. Presumably, it held their belongings though no one knows for sure what they brought with them on their journey. All that is certain is that after they arrived, the mortality rate skyrocketed. To be more precise, the infant mortality rate was highly affected.
As far as their oddly shaped trousseaus, they were said to be stored on the third floor of the convent, not to be removed until each girl found the proper suitor. The problem is when they were removed, the caskets were found completely empty. The fear of what escaped those caskets brought the Archdiocese to the convent, where they took all the caskets and locked them in the third floor storage area indefinitely. No one, and I mean NO ONE that isn’t part of the tight knit Vatican family is allowed inside the third floor of the convent to this day.

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
https://www.scarystorytime.com/blog/scary-story-submissions

Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

5th and Center Station
by Soymodelo111
A young woman enters the underground subway at 5th and Center Station to catch the 3:15am train. Her fear of the late night ride has prevented her from working the graveyard shift in the past, but increasing financial struggles quickly influenced this exception. The silence of the eerie subway halls steadily discomforts this as she anxiously awaits on the subway bench. Constant stories of horrific events involving murderers and thieves easily invades her mind.
Suddenly, a smirking gang of three appears. They seem to walk towards her but vanish almost instantly. “I’m really letting my fear get the better of me,” she states, attempting to calm herself. Vibrations from the oncoming train begin, which aid in a sigh of relief from the startled woman. Stepping into the empty car, she decides to rest in the closest seat. I’ve never seen the train so empty, she thinks while withdrawing her book.
Eventually, the passenger drifts asleep yet awakens to find herself at the same 5th and Center Station. What the…? she wonders, I guess we haven’t left yet.
The train then takes off. Within minutes, the same 5th and Center Station sign appears. What’s going on? she nervously ponders.
Quickly lifting her watch to verify how long it’s been, the passenger is aghast to find that the time still shows 3:10 am. Fearing that she’s losing her mind, the wide eyed commuter uneasily watches as the train’s next stop appears. It is yet another 5th and Center Station sign. Growing more perplexed every instant, the panicked woman promptly begins running through each car to find others. Without warning, an unforeseen beam of light emerges. It embodies the whole train car and finally causes the confused woman to halt.
“Hello there, young lady. I’ve been waiting for you,” spoke a friendly male voice.
“What do you mean?” she asks, looking around dumbfounded.
A male apparition materializes and chucks her a newspaper article. The moment the female reads the title, a brutal memory instantaneously floods her mind. ‘Young Woman Fatally Raped and Beaten in 5th and Center Subway.’ Finally relaxing, her now saddened eyes look up at the elderly gentleman.
“It’s been four months, love,” he answers before she could speak. “It took you some time to reach me.”
“But why am I still here?” she says with a depressed frown.
“This train is a spirit trap, love. Those who ride here choose forgetfulness in order to block their gruesome deaths. I am here to show you the way.”
“Did you die here?” she asks, returning her eyes to the grim article.
The friendly man answered, “I sure did. My heading said: ‘Well Known Hobo Pushed in Front of Oncoming Train.’ I refused to believe what had happened to me and ended up here just like you.”
Her mournful voice questions again, “Can I move on now?”
“Not quite, my dear. It’s your turn to be guiding spirit. I’ve waited six years for you to replace me. You’ll get your time.” As her eyes begin losing their relaxed disposition again he adds, “Now don’t worry, years don’t feel as long anymore.”
“Wait!” The young woman cries as she realizes her companion is fading, “You can’t leave yet. I don’t even fully understand what’s going on. How do I even know when someone’s coming?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he smiles, pointing at the newspaper in her hands. “You get a new article.”
Alone once again, the young passenger peers out the train window to see the same 5th and Center sign appear. She is unable to disembark.
Afterward
by Zack Ryan Hamilton
Robert sat reading in a comfortable chair close to his tainted, beautiful, wooden fireplace. The light of the flame flickered around the room, making the outside look cold and forbidden. Wind howled against the window as the snow pushed against it.
“Goddamn winter,” he thought.
As the night continued on, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The book became harder to read. He finally gave a satisfactory grumble, and trotted off to bed. The wind howled outside the whole time.
He stared up at the ceiling from his bed. Reminisced about times since gone, things he could have fixed. Tears built in his eyes as he watched the images project onto the ceiling. Images of love and immunity flashed. He wished he could close his eyes a final time. He kept whispering, “This is it, this is it,” until finally his eyes closed and he slept.
A muffled thud rang out. His eyes shot open.
“What in the hell was that?” he thought.
He quickly grabbed his robe, and lazily sleepwalked his way to the front door. He didn’t see the double-barrel shotgun over his fireplace as a decoration anymore. He reached for it and loaded it.
The front door flew open amidst the powerful winds as he turned the knob. He squinted his eyes through the blizzard and through the cold and shouted. Nothing. Something wasn’t right.
Robert slowly shuffled out of his cabin, the shotgun gripped between his fingers. He started around the cabin slowly. The wind seemed to whip him to speed up, but he was persistent. His legs took careful steps in the snow. Oncoming footprints appeared in the snow, straight toward his cabin.
“This sumbitch is mine,” he said.
And he knew he’d end a life today. No more regrets.
He followed the tracks around to a small covering over a window. It was pitch black.
“You come out right now.”
Nothing moved. The wind still howled. The forest began to lumber over top of the night sky.
“I will shoot you, you sumbitch. You come out right now!”
Finally the figure began to move. The shadow raised its hands, only to return them quickly because of the cold.
“Please, I have no house.” The old man’s eyes widened. It was only a boy. “Please sir, I have no house.”
Robert looked down the iron sight of the shotgun still.
“I knew trouble was out here. Always is. Now you gone and run things up for me. I told myself that I would end the trouble tonight.”
The boy looked at him with half-beaten eyes. He tried to say something, but the only sound Robert heard was that of a scared little boy. Someone with no hope left. But he told himself in his head he couldn’t give up; he had to do something he wouldn’t regret. Until it hit him. This boy was the change he was looking for. He could finally appreciate helping someone, letting them grow up and become a man. This was his chance. He spoke, and nodded along with the shotgun.
“How old are ya?”
“I’m 14, sir. You?”
“67. And not a day older’en that. Come on in, boy. I have a good feeling ’bout you.”
Robert led the boy in. He was filthy in the light. His face smothered in dirt, knees redder then the devil. Robert began to feel better; like he was the savior this time. The old man motioned toward a chair close to the fire, and they both sat amongst the flickering light. Robert returned the shotgun to the mantel.
“What’s yer name?” The boy sat focused on the fire, and finally looked up.
“Adam.”
“Where are your parents, Adam?”
“My mum and pa, both of ’em were dead a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
They both sat, listening to the fire crack over and over again. Adam sat up after a moment’s pause.
“Why do you live out here?”
“‘Cause it lets me get away from the bullshit back in the city. Back in ‘them life.” Adam eased back. He knew it wasn’t an appropriate question. They sat by the fire a long time.
Robert showed Adam the guest room. The boy nodded, and closed the door. The old man returned back to his room, comfortable. He smiled to himself. He smiled about helping someone. He smiled about a future for the boy. He smiled to himself again and again until he was too tired to continue. This was going to be the best sleep he’d ever had.
Morning arrived and Robert sat up. The wind stopped. The night had turned to a crisp morning. He smiled to himself again. This was what he needed.
He walked down the long hall of rooms before reaching the kitchen. Nothing had been moved. The ticking of a clock in the background. No one was up for breakfast. The boy must be hungry, he thought. He started out of the kitchen before noticing a small mud track on the floor. The boy was never in the kitchen last night. He looked up and around, hearing the silence screaming at him. No food had been moved. No crumbs on the counter. Only the infection of the small mud track. Robert began toward Adam’s room. It was still locked. He knocked and called for him, but nothing answered. Maybe the boy was still asleep, and merely woke up for a snack? The old man was still curious. He continued down to his room, found the door key, and unlocked it.
The bed was perfectly made, as if no one had even slept in it. Robert’s heart began to thump in his chest. This could not have been a dream. His fear brought his thoughts back to the shotgun again. He turned and thundered toward the mantel, only to discover that it was gone. Instead, a note had been nailed in its place.
Robert slowly unfolded the note, removing an old Polaroid picture first.
‘I win, dad. You forgot about me.’ The picture showed Robert’s wife crying in their basement. He looked up slowly at the mantel. He remembered everything. His anger, the custody battles. His love becoming obsession, his immunity becoming weakness. He remembered how he hid away the two people he loved most in the darkest reaches of the house. The screaming and crying became fainter with each day. Only to finally become crying and shuffling. The unbreakable lock to the basement becoming comfort to him. Robert smiled to himself still. This was what he needed.
He began to turn around, only to hear the click of the shotgun behind him.
“No regrets, right dad?”
The wind howled as a beat was heard from the cabin. The forest lumbered over, hushing the noise.
The smile was frozen on R

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

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