There was a 20-year old girl who lived with her boyfriend. Their life together was a perfect idyll and they both hoped that nothing would happen to change it. Each time they embraced, she told her boyfriend that she could not live without him. He assured her that he felt the same way. They were madly in love.
One Saturday night, they went out to a nightclub to celebrate the birthday of a friend. While they were there, they drank way too much alcohol. They returned home very late, and, eager to get to bed, they took a shortcut and drove at a high speed.
The next morning, when they woke up, they both felt that something about their relationship had changed. Their mutual understanding was somehow different. They no longer spoke, no longer touched, no longer kissed. In short, they almost completely ignored each other.
That evening, they both found themselves watching TV together. The news came on and there was a story about a fatal accident that had happened the night before. The newsreader said that one of the victims had died and one had survived. When the pictures of the two victims flashed up on the screen, the girl and her boyfriend were horrified. They were staring at their own faces. The most terrifying thing was that there was one question that remained unanswered…
Which one of them was the ghost?
There was a single mother who had three daughters. The youngest daughter was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. The doctors broke the bad news to her mother. They told the poor woman that her daughter had only three months to live.
The family were devastated by the horrible news. The mother decided to have a family photo taken while her youngest daughter was still alive. That way, they would always have something to remember her by.
They hired a professional photographer to come and take the photo. The family posed with the youngest daughter sitting in the middle of the picture and her mother and older sisters arranged around her. Afterwards, they had it framed and hung it over the fireplace in the living room.
Three months later, the youngest daughter died in hospital. Her mother and her two sisters were at her bedside when she passed away. The funeral took place two days later.
After the funeral, the mother was sitting in the living room when she happened to glance up at the family photo over the fireplace. She was horrified to discover that her daughter’s face in the photo was shifting and changing. It looked distended and deformed. Almost demonic.
They brought the family photo to the professional photographer and complained. He said he had no explanation for why the photo would suddenly change, making the dead child appear so grotesque.
The mother was at her wit’s end. She took the family photo to a psychic and begged the psychic to tell her what was wrong. The psychic took one look at the family photo and recoiled in horror.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this”, said the psychic. “Unfortunately, your daughter fell into hell.”
Sometimes, I wonder what the police are doing these days. They never seem to be able to solve any crimes. I live in a city that has a lot of crimes and lately it’s been getting worse. Last week, there was a murder near the factory where I work. A young woman was stabbed with an ice pick. Not just an ordinary ice pick, but one with a skull and crossbones on the handle. Everyone who lives in the area is really freaking out. It’s a big city, but this latest murder has everybody talking. It’s been pretty heavily covered in the media. My mother, who lives with me, is scared to go out at night. I keep telling her not to worry, but she knows the police are not going to solve the murder. They haven’t even found the murder weapon yet. The police are so incompetent.
A young girl was walking home from school one day, when she spotted a pile of old photos lying on the sidewalk. They were stacked together and neatly wrapped in a rubber band.
She picked up the pile of photographs and started to flip through them. A chill ran down her spine when she looked at the first photo. It showed a creepy old man dressed in white. Behind him, the background was pitch black. He was standing just far enough away from the camera that she couldn’t make out his face.
The next photo showed the same man, except he was standing a bit closer. Looking through the rest of the photos, the girl began to get an eerie feeling. In each one, the man in the picture was inching closer and closer and his face was still blurred. She got the strangest feeling that the man in the photographs was looking at her.
In one photo, the man was so close that his face was completely filling up the frame. As she neared her house, the girl turned to the last photo. This time, instead of an image, there were two words: “Close enough.”
Hearing a scream outside their house, the girl’s brother rushed to the door and went outside, All he saw was a pile of photographs lying on the doorstep. The top one looked like an extremely pale version of his sister, but she was standing too far back for him to make out her face.
It’s hard being a mother. I recently found out that my son is psychic. He’s got this habit of pointing at people’s faces sometimes. My husband and I realized that whenever our son points at somebody like that, it means they’re going to die within three days. Last year, he pointed at his grandfather. Three days later, his grandfather died of a heart attack. A few months ago, he pointed at a picture of a famous actress in a magazine. Three days later, she was killed in a car accident. Today, when I went to turn on the TV, my son was pointing at the screen. When I turned it on, the President was giving a speech. I can’t believe the President is going to die, but my son is never wrong.
One morning, at breakfast, my husband looked very tired. His face was pale and sweaty. When he reached out to pick up his cup of coffee, I noticed that his hand was shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, “I’m not sure if I was sleeping or if I was awake. Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that you weren’t sure if it was actually a dream?”
He paused for a long time before continuing.
“Last night, I had one of those dreams,” he said. “In the dream, I woke up in a cold sweat. My heart was racing and I was breathing heavily. I went to the bathroom to get a drink of water, but something didn’t feel right. I looked up and saw that the ceiling wasn’t there anymore. Instead, it was as if I was looking up out of a grave. I could see the edges of the grave above me. There were people gathered around the graveside, but I didn’t recognize any of them except for one man. He looked exactly like me. Same eyes, same nose, same face, same everything. He bent over the grave and peered down at me. A broad smile spread across his face and he said, “You’ve lived long enough. Time to let someone else live for a while.” I went back to the bedroom and lay down in bed. I can’t remember if I lay awake or fell asleep.”
The next morning, when my husband came down for breakfast, he looked even worse. His hair was disshevelled and his brow was dripping with sweat.
“I had the same dream again,” he said, his voice shaking.
He wouldn’t say anything more, but as he left for work and kissed me goodbye, I could see the fear in his eyes.
I started getting worried. My husband has always been a calm and relaxed individual. Now, it seemed as if he was turning into a nervous wreck.
Every night, for the rest of the week, he had the same dream. Each morning, before he left for work, he would tell me about the dream. His face grew grey, his eyes became haunted and he began looking gaunt and sickly. I decided that it was time to have him see a psychologist.
However, on a Saturday morning, he woke up much later than usual and when he came down for breakfast, he looked as if the extra sleep had done him some good. He appeared to be healthy and vigorous again.
“Did you have that dream again last night?” I asked.
He looked up at me. A broad smile spread across his face and he said, “What dream? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
There was taxi driver whose wife disappeared, leaving him with a five-year old daughter to bring up on his own. The father had to work long hours and wasn’t able to spend much time at home. He often went out early in the morning and didn’t return until late at night.
His neighbor was a single woman and she kindly volunteered to come over and look after the child while he was gone. Every night, the little girl would lie awake, crying her eyes out and calling her father’s name. Then, one night, she stopped crying. Listening at her bedroom door, the neighbor could hear the little girl laughing. It sounded as if she was talking to someone.
“Oh, her father must have come home early,” thought the neighbor.
She opened the bedroom door and found the little girl sitting alone on her bed, laughing in the dark. There was nobody else in the room. The neighbor decided that she had to get to the bottom of this strange behavior.
“Who are you talking to at night when your father is out working?” she asked.
“My mom,” replied the little girl. “Whenever I’m lonely and crying, my mom comes and hugs me and kisses me on the cheek.”
The woman was shocked. “But I’m always here and the front door is locked,” she said. “How does she get in?”
The little girl pointed to the basement door and in a whisper, she said, “She comes crawling out of there…”
A chill went down the neighbor’s spine and she immediately called the police.
Hi everyone! I’m on a holiday in Bangkok, Thailand and I’m staying in a cheap hotel. The locals say this hotel is haunted, but you know how Thai people are… they’re very superstitious. However, I did have one scary incident last night. I took a bath and while I was blow-drying my hair, I switched on the TV. Suddenly, a horrifying, old, white-faced woman appeared on the screen. It gave me such a fright, I dropped the hair-drier into the bathtub. That knocked out all the lights in my room. I had to rely on the light from the TV to get dressed. Then, when I went down to the lobby, I found out that my little accident had knocked out the electricity in the whole hotel. The hotel manager wasn’t very happy with me LOL!
What makes this story scary?
There were three boys who loved watching horror movies. One day, one of the boys received a parcel in the mail. There were no stamps on the mysterious package and no name or address was written on the front. The boy had no idea who it was from. When he opened the parcel, he found a DVD inside. There was no cover on the case and no title on the disc. He thought his friends might be playing a joke on him, so he took the DVD and went out to meet the other boys.
When he arrived at their house, he asked them about the mysterious DVD, but they said they had nothing to do with it. They invited him inside to watch it and see what was on it. When they sat down on the sofa and pressed play on the DVD player, they were surprised at what they saw on the screen.
There was a creepy clown standing in a room. There was a bed on his left and a closet on his right. He was holding two red balloons and staring into the camera. Then, some weird music started playing and the clown began dancing and jumping around. He was jerking and shaking his body all around the room. All the while, his clown face was fixed in a wide, menacing grin. He looked insane and his behavior was bizarre. Two of the boys thought it was hilarious and started laughing out loud.
After a while, they noticed that the third boy was very quiet. When they turned to look at him, they could see that his face was white as a sheet and his eyes were wide in terror.
“What’s the matter with you?” they asked. “Why aren’t you laughing?”
The boy replied in a weal voice, “That’s my bedroom…”
I really miss my sister. I’m 8 years old and my sister is 12. Ever since I can remember, our family has always been poor. My sister and I had to wear the same clothes every day and the kids at school used to make fun of us.
Last year, my sister ran away from home. Even though we shared a bedroom, she never warned me she was going to leave. If I’d known, I probably would have begged her to take me with her.
My parents said they are still searching for her, but I don’t think they’re putting in a lot of effort.
Not long after that, my parents won the lottery. My mom said she found the winning ticket in a dumpster. When I saw all the money in the briefcase, I thought our problems were over.
I was wrong.
My parents immediately went on a spending spree. My dad bought himself a new car and a big TV. My mom bought herself some nice new dresses and lots of jewelry. They didn’t buy me anything.
“What happens when all the money runs out?” I asked them.
“Don’t worry,” my mom replied, “We still have you.”
I guess that means they love me, don’t they?
From the diary of a young boy:
My mom is in the hospital because she is having a baby.
I wanted to cook something nice for her to eat.
My friend told me that cooking is for girls.
Today I made a soup of meat and vegetables for my mom.
It was hard work but I did it with love.
I went to the hospital and gave it to my mom.
Mommy was very happy and told me I was a good boy.
I asked if the baby could eat the soup as well.
Mom said, “Yes, when she grows up.”
I want my baby sister eat my soup.
My mom left the hospital with my baby sister.
Her name is Kaori and she is very pretty.
I wanted to play with Kaori but my mom wouldn’t let me.
She told me to go to my room.
I felt very sad.
Today my Dad arrived home from work early.
I wanted to play with him, but he was playing with Kaori.
He told me to go to my room to play.
I felt very sad.
Today, my grandparents came to visit.
I was very happy because my grandparents always play with me.
I asked my grandmother to read me a story, but she told me to go to my room.
My grandma and my grandpa and my mom and dad were cuddling Kaori.
They spent all their time with my baby sister.
My mom said, “Kaori is so beautiful, I just want to eat her up.”
And my daddy said, “You’re right. Me too.”
Today I made soup of meat and vegetables for my parents.
I cut the vegetables very well, but the meat was very hard to chop up into pieces.
After dinner, my parents went around the house calling out, “Kaori! Kaori! ”
My parents were looking everywhere for my baby sister.
Have you seen Kaori? She is so beautiful that everyone just wants to eat her up.
My friends and I love looking at ghost photos on the internet. One evening, we planned to take a trip to a haunted place and see if we could take some ghost pictures of our own.
There were four of us in the group and it was almost dusk when we arrived at the old house. Each of us had a digital camera and between us, we must have taken a picture of every nook and cranny in the building.
I collected the cameras from my friends and the minute I got home, I downloaded all the pictures onto my laptop. Then I checked through all of the photos, one by one. Imagine my disappointment when I realized not even one of them had captured anything out of the ordinary. Four hundred photos and not one ghost!
However, I decided to play a trick on my friends. I found a group photo with the four of us in it and used Photoshop to put a scary ghost face in the background. I was very subtle about it. You had to look very hard at the photo before you noticed the fake ghost.
The next day, I printed it out and showed it to one of my friends. He took one look at it and his face went pale.
“I-I-Is this for real?” he stammered. His hands were even shaking.
“Yeah, man!” I said. “It’s for real!”
What a dummy! LOL.
Was there really a ghost or not?
A few minutes ago, I was taking a shower and I heard a scream from the living room. I got out of the bath and ran out there naked. When I got there, I saw a burglar standing over the dead bodies of my mom, my dad and my sister. When the burglar saw me, he jumped out the window and ran off. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.
What really happened?
I saw a sign in the window of the pet store. It read “mONKEYS fOR sALE”. The store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that was odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. He wasn’t very smart. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the face. I laughed. Then they punched me in the face. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new home. They screeched and jabbered, they hurled themselves off the couch at high speeds and slammed into the wall, face first. Although humorous at first, it became boring after an hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were on sale: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kind of like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Darn cheap monkeys.
I didn’t know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I had to get rid of them before my parents come home.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn’t work. It got stuck. Now I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to use the bathroom, but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn’t want to call the plumber. I was too embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately, there was only enough room in the freezer for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. This wasn’t very efficient. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn’t go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire. Now I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The smell was getting worse.
I became irritated by my inability to dispose of my monkeys. I was also irritated because I couldn’t use the bathroom. I punched one of my dead monkeys in the face. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that he wasn’t allowed to dispose of charred monkeys. I told him that I had a wet one but he said he couldn’t take that either. I didn’t bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn’t know quite what to say. They pretended they liked dead monkeys, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the face.
I like monkeys.