After dark story time

The carnival arrived without posters, without radio ads, without warning. One night the empty fairgrounds at the edge of town simply changed . Rusted gates stood wide open. Strings of lights flickered weakly, glowing a sickly yellow against the fog. No one remembered seeing the trucks come in. I noticed it first on my walk home. Music drifted through the trees - tinny and warped, like it was being played underwater. A carousel tune. Slow. Wrong. Every instinct told me to turn around, but curiosity pulled harder than fear. The Ferris wheel creaked as it turned, though no one sat inside. Each empty car swayed gently, like it was breathing. The air smelled of damp hay, oil, and something faintly sweet… like rotting cotton candy. “Hello?” I called. The sound was swallowed immediately. The midway stretched farther than it should have. Lights buzzed weakly, casting long, crooked shadows that twitched when I wasn’t looking. Every game booth looked abandoned, yet every prize was dusty with fin...

The first snowfall came late that year, whispering against the windows of Hawthorne House like a cautious hand testing the glass. Inside, the old place smelled of pine needles and dust. Evelyn had hung the wreath herself—evergreen braided with red ribbon—on the front door, though she couldn’t say why. No one came anymore. Still, it was Christmas Eve, and traditions have a way of insisting on themselves. Hawthorne House had been a boarding school once, then a convalescent home, then nothing at all. The town said it was condemned. Evelyn said it was quiet. She preferred quiet. At dusk she lit the candles along the main hallway, each flame shivering as if it sensed the cold pressed close behind the walls. The hallway stretched longer than it should have, a trick of architecture or memory, she never knew which. At the far end stood a door that had been painted over so many times its panels were soft and swollen, the brass handle dulled to the color of old bone. Evelyn did not go to that do...

Whispering Hollow The eviction notice felt like a death knell in Aiden's cramped studio apartment. Rent in the city had become a monstrous beast, devouring his meager savings from years of playing gigs in smoky jazz bars and dingy hotel lobbies. Dreams of a sold-out concert hall felt as distant as the moon. Then, the letter arrived. A faded, legal document with a crest that looked like it belonged on a medieval knight's shield. It informed Aiden he was the sole heir to Whispering Hollow , a sprawling property nestled somewhere in the forgotten corners of Vermont. An inheritance from a great-aunt he barely knew, a woman who'd faded into the background of his childhood stories like a watercolor painting left in the rain. Intrigue battled with skepticism. A free house? In this economy? Suspicion gnawed at him, but the allure of a roof over his head, especially one not attached to a grumpy landlord, proved too strong. A week later, Aiden found himself standing on a deserted cou...

In the quaint village of Raven Hollow, nestled deep in the wintry woods, there stood a Victorian mansion which was always shrouded in an aura of mystery. For centuries, the manor had been abandoned, shrouded in mystery and whispered tales of spectral inhabitants. Locals whispered about strange occurrences there, of flickering lights and disembodied voices echoing through the empty halls. On my way home from a family gathering that snowy Christmas Eve, I caught a glimpse of the mansion from a distance. As a lover of ghost stories and spooky, mysterious things, my morbid curiosity drew me to its desolate beauty and imposing facade. I walked through the rusty gate which swung open as the howling wind blew. The snow crunched softly under my boots as I approached the creaky oak door. A gust of wind rattled the windows, sending chills down my spine. Hesitantly, I pushed the door open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest. Inside, a thick layer of dust covered the antique furniture, and cobwe...

by Lynn WL I was born in an Asian country and lived there until I was seven when my family and I moved to the US. I still remember how I used to be spooked whenever I went into a hospital as a kid because most of the hospitals back there were old and had dark corridors. There were also a couple of objects associated with hospitals that always made me uneasy when I saw them. They were gurneys or stretchers, and wheelchairs. I associated them with pain and suffering besides the spooky environments of the hospitals themselves. The following took place when I was nine (so I was already living in the US). Our family and my aunt's lived like a couple of miles apart, and we were pretty close to each other. We would often visit each other and hang out together. One day my aunt was tied up at work, and my uncle was out of town, so she asked my mom if she could pick up my cousin Robert (who is a year older than I am) from school and bring him to our house until she got off work which would b...

by Lynn WL Author's note: When you're on social media you have to be careful with the personal information you share cos you never know who might read it and what they might do to you. I posted this story on Reddit a while ago using an alt account. This is based on true events. I waited so long to post it here because I didn't want to reveal my identity at the time. I just don't ever want to experience this kind of nightmare again. Some of the names were changed. I'm not linking back to the original story. So in case some of you happen to have read it, there is no copyright infringement. I wrote the original story myself using a different name. Disclaimer: Unfortunately, a few people were offended by this story. So let me be very clear: this story is in no way intended as an attack against people with mental disorders. Any reference to them is purely coincidental. Please don't take anything personally. If you're very sensitive to this matter, you may wan...

WARNING: This story is NSFW (not safe for work), and is for adult readers ( 18 years or older ) only. If you are under 18 or are sensitive to eroticism and gore, please choose a different story to read. There are many others, including family friendly ones. by Lynn WL Early last summer I was going on a cruise to Alaska leaving from Seattle with my girlfriend Sandra. She's actually my childhood best friend (I'm bi and she's lesbian). We were planning to stay in Seattle for a day, and already booked a hotel. It was a quaint little waterfront hotel, and we were lucky to get an ocean view so that we could watch ships pass by. Sandra was flying in from a different city, and she happened to have relatives in Seattle whom she wanted to spend a little time with. So we agreed to meet at the hotel some time in the evening before dinner. I arrived in early afternoon, so I had plenty of time to kill. The weather was just perfect. It was in the mid 70s, and the sun was shining...

My girlfriend and I camped out by a lake north of Houston. We were still having lots of fun in the wee hours when we heard a woman sobbing. We went to check it out, and I really wish we hadn't. by Lynn WL Shelley and I had been best friends since elementary school. We had many things in common, and loved each other's company. In middle school I came to realize that I was bi, and I was physically attracted to my best friend, but I kept it to myself for obvious reasons. In the last year of high school she shocked everyone (especially the boys who had a crush on her and were greatly disappointed) by coming out as a lesbian. I then opened up to her and told her I had always been attracted to her. To my pleasant surprise, she told me the feeling was mutual. But we didn't get into a romantic relationship immediately since I had a boyfriend at the time. Shelley and I went to the same college the first year, during which I broke up with my boyfriend and subsequently starte...