After dark story time

"Be careful what you write about as it might come true." ~ Anonymous poster  by Lynn WL  Hi everyone, this is Sharleen (a.k.a. Lynn). As most of you know I'm the author of most of the stories on this blog, but this is like the first time I'm addressing my readers, and that's because I have something interesting to share other than just stories. I love ghost stories 👻 but I have to admit I'm also a bit of a scaredy cat. When I was a kid my parents didn't like me reading spooky stories because I got scared so easily, and they said I had an overactive imagination. But the whole point of reading ghost stories is to get scared, isn't it? I mean it's kinda fun to get scared. Well, this is only true as long as you realize the stories are fictional and you believe nothing similar can happen in real life. In other words, once you stop reading you stop being scared.  However, as you probably know, this is not always the case especially if the stories are ba...

It was a chilly night on the second weekend in October. The autumn air in Blackwood Hollow didn't just chill your skin. It clung to it like damp wool. Every October the Miller farm hosted a haunted hayride to celebrate Halloween, many people's favorite holiday. It was local legend material: tractor-led, sprawling across forty acres of overgrown timber, populated by high school kids in cheap foam masks who jumped out from behind corn shocks to make teenagers spill their cider. That night the hayride started the way it always did. Creaky trailer, smell of diesel and straw, kids screaming on cue at the plastic skeletons wired to the fence posts. Marla had worked the Blackwood Hollow haunted hayride for three seasons and could recite the script in her sleep. Scarecrow jump-scare at the first bend. Chainsaw guy (no chain, just noise) at the pond. Fake grave markers with the corny puns. This year, they had added a new stretch of trail through the back acreage, past the old orchard n...

by Lynn WL If you've read some of my stories you probably know how much I've disliked hospitals ever since I was a kid growing up in Asia where most of the hospitals were old and creepy looking. Moving to the US where most of the hospitals are modern and bright didn't really change things much. In fact, "dislike" is an understatement. I actually fear hospitals or have an intense aversion for them. First of all it's because I associate them with pain and suffering, and death. Then there's the paranormal aspect. I believe in ghost and I know that most, if not all, hospitals are haunted. Yes, even the modern ones. Unfortunately, hospitals are part of our lives, and it's unavoidable that we have to visit them or even stay in them during our lifetime. I had that unfortunate occurrence like a couple of months ago when I had to have surgery. Without going into details, it was actually quite a simple surgery. Yet, it wasn't an outpatient surgery. I had to ...

St. Mercy’s Regional was been built in 1911, back when hospitals were places people went to die quietly. Over the years it expanded, modernized, added glass wings and cheerful murals. But the original building remained at its core - brick, narrow windows, and hallways that smelled faintly of antiseptic and something older, like damp paper and rust. Everyone knew about the fourth floor. Officially, it was closed after a fire in the 1980s. Electrical failure, they said. Unofficially, nurses said all the patients weren't evacuated in time. Records vanished. Names were missing. Death certificates were… incomplete. The elevators skipped the fourth floor entirely. But there were rumors that sometimes, at night, they stopped there anyway. Mara started working nights because she needed the money and because she liked quiet. She had heard about strange happenings at St. Mercy’s Regional, but she told herself she didn’t believe in ghosts.  If anything, hospitals were emotional places - grief...

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 A group of kids were bored on a Sunday afternoon, so they decided to go to the local hospital to play doctor with a real patient. Little did they know it would lead to an evening of horror. ***** The following took place a number of years ago when I was 8 years old. It was in early or mid October, and it was a 3 day weekend, so my family decided to go visit our relatives who lived in a small town. We (my parents, my 12 year old brother Dave, my 10 year old sister Tania, and myself) left home Friday afternoon and drove a few hours through the countryside to get to our destination. It was a nice drive. The weather was cool and the leaves already started to turn colors. It was starting to get dark when we got to the town where they lived. It was a small town, and there weren't very many people out and about. There was only one hospital in the town. My uncle is a doctor and he worked at the hospital, and his house was just a couple of blocks away. So when the weather was nic...

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 ...

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...