Best Scarystory Quotes This Week

I remember in 7th or 8th grade, I tried to make up a scary story to scare my friends...

I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me,
"Daddy check for monsters under my bed."
I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him,
under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering,

"Daddy, there's somebody on my bed."

My brother is a year and a half older than me and has Asperger's. For those of you who may not know, it is a social form of autism. This generally means that he has a tendency to say ridiculously inappropriate things and not care about or understand the effects his words may have on anyone else. He also focuses only on his interests and will talk about them nonstop regardless of whether of not anyone understands or is interested in what he is talking about. As a child, it also caused him to say incredibly creepy things to me. He never said things with the purpose of scaring me, like most older brothers would, but rather, simply relayed things to me that he believed to be true. When I was 7 or 8, we were playing a video game together. Without even looking up from the screen, he said, "You know, when we're sleeping we can't control what we do. I could sleepwalk and get a knife and kill you and I wouldn't even know." When I told my mother what he'd said, she went to him and said he can't say things like that to his little sister because it scares me. His response was, "Why? It's true. She should know." I locked my door from then on. The creepiest thing he ever said still haunts me to this day. I was six or seven and our rooms were connected by a shared bathroom. We always kept the doors open, so we could see into each other's rooms. One day, while we were playing together, he mentioned how he saw his copy last night. I asked him what he meant, and he said that he frequently wakes up at night and sees a copy of himself standing beside his bed watching him sleep. I was freaked out and asked him what his copy looked like when it watched him. He jumped up and said, "I'll show you." He stood in front of me and stared blankly at me with no emotion on his face. I told him to stop and that he was scaring me. He said he didn't see why that would scare me since I've seen it before. I asked him what he meant by that and he said, "Sometimes, when I see my copy watching me, I look into your room and see yours watching you too." Even now, almost 20 years later, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a feeling of being watched. I keep my eyes closed or put my head under the blanket until the feeling passes, because I'm afraid to open my eyes, terrified that I will see a copy of myself blankly staring at me.

When I was a kid all the children used to play in the woods on the edge of town. Deep in the heart of the forest, there was an old, run down, and ragged house that everyone whispered about. There were all kinds of rumors about it being haunted, or that a monster lived in the basement. My father even said he heard about a family of cannibals that made it their home. One day while playing in the woods, my brother, who was nine at the time, was bragging about how he was the bravest kid in school. After a while, I got sick of hearing him gloat, so I told him that if he really wanted to prove himself, he should go into the basement of the old house. Of course, I didn't think he would go through with it. Nobody ever set foot in the house, but he was determined to prove his bravery. I remember feeling guilt and anxiety when he walked through the door. He stayed in there for quite a while, until the sun had set, but he finally came out at dusk. Needless to say I was relieved. When he returned, I asked him if he saw any monsters in the basement. He simply grinned, answered, "Yes," then blinked his eyes. At that moment I felt my blood run cold. It wasn't the grin. While I found his smile disturbing, it's not what had caught my attention. Nor was it his answer, as my brother was a known prankster at the time. The thing that worried me, that chilled me to my very core, was the fact that when he blinked his eyes, they shut the wrong way.

"911, what is your emergency?" I ask when the call comes in. An exasperated voice, running when she made the call, answered, "I'm being followed, I-I don't see him now, b-but he's there somewhere." She was stuttering, paranoid, and obviously very afraid.
"Alright, ma'am, calm down. Can you tell me your name?"
"Jessica Yates. My name is Jessica Yates."
"Okay, Jessica, can you tell me where you're at?"
"Um, I don't know... I w-was at 5th and Main when I n-noticed him. I just ran. I don't know what street I'm on."
"That's okay, Jessica. Can you describe to me this man who's following you?"
"I don't know, he's tall, and he has dark hair. He has a messy beard and he's wearing a long, dark coat. I think I saw a knife. Please help me!"
I recognized the description. There had been reports of a suspicious person near the locations where bodies had recently been found. A composite sketch had been all over the news for the last couple of days. Before I could respond, her voice came again. She screamed.
"Oh no, he's here again! He's found me! Please! Please, help! I don't want to die!"
"Well you'd better run fast then." I deleted the recording.

Brody was crying again; loud and clear over the baby monitor. I groggily checked the clock. It was 3am. They say having kids is worth it, but so far it's been grueling. I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes. To my relief, I heard Brody's door open, followed by the sound of soft slippers padding their way into his room. It was my turn to take care of Brody, but Nichole must have beat me to it. I couldn't have asked for a better wife and mother. While still rubbing my eyes, I heard a soft, odd-sounding humming through the baby monitor. Brody almost immediately stopped crying. Thank goodness...I only had 3 hours left to sleep. I laid back down, turning over to get more comfortable. My eyes fell upon Nichole's silhouette. She was sitting straight-backed, looking down at me. Though I couldn't see her face, I'm sure it was as panicked as mine. I jumped out of bed with a start. I sped out of the room and into the hallway, followed closely behind by what sounded like Nichole raspily trying to keep up while tangled in sheets. Half naked, I rushed through Brody's doorway and flipped on the lights. Brody was being cradled softly by Nichole; anger and confusion plain on her face. Nichole's eyes drifted past me, and her face contorted with terror. The crying started again as I slowly turned around.

Mommy said we’re going to play a game. A game of hide and seek, and Daddy would be It. Mommy told me to find a really, really good place to hide, and not to make a sound. She said that if he finds me, then the game changes to tag, and to run away as fast as I can. I’m really good at hide and seek, though. I don’t think he’ll find me. I can hear him yelling for me and Mommy. He must be really frustrated. Oh, Mommy just screamed! He must have surprised her. I can hear her crying; she must really hate losing. She sure makes some weird noises when she cries! She sounds like she’s gagging on something. Ah, she’s quiet now; she must have remembered to be a good loser, like she tells me when I cry after I lose. there's light peeking into my hiding spot in the toy box and a figure covers me with its shadow. Man, Daddy found me! He’s really good at this game.

     My daughter loves collecting dolls. She doesn't really enjoy playing with them, but she could look at them, admire them, and talk to them for days. I arranged them in a room we didn't use, and she spends half her day there, and I didn't have a problem with that. The only thing that bothered me was that she got bored easily and was always asking for a new one. She always asked for something special, something different than the others.
     I got her a beautiful doll, almost as tall as her with piercing blue eyes and thick, shiny brown hair. My daughter said that it was by far her favorite and that she was very happy.
     After a few days, she began saying she was scared of it, that it blinks and moves, and that she's even heard it whispering something.
     "There's nothing wrong with the doll, honey," I tried to calm her down. "But I can go see, if you really want."
I hastily make my way to the room and go to the doll, carefully looking at her.
     "I thought I told you to stand still," I mutter as I grab her shoulders. "This is my first and last warning. I don't want this to ever happen again."

You enter your son's room and see him cuddled in bed. He clutches his blanket to his chest and smilles,
"Mommy, can you check under my bed for monsters?"
You smile and crouch beside the bed, but as you look under you see your son, shivering and he says
"Mommy, there's somebody on my bed."


 

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