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8 SCARY Ghost Stories (Don’t Watch Alone…) | SPINE CHILLING STORIES

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Hi, I'm Faith. This is the story of
the Disembodied Voice. Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] It was a hot spring
night in Florida. Chrissy had just
gone home from school and settled down
to do her homework in her old wooden house. It had been in the family
for over 100 years. And it creaked and
groaned as the winds blew. To Chrissy, they were
the familiar sounds of a house full of love, one
that never used to be silent. She fondly remembered
her grandmother cooking, bashing pots and
pans in the kitchen. [woman humming] She'd yell, Chrissy Loo– the nickname she'd given
her when dinner was ready. But the house was
quiet after school now.

Chrissy settled in her
room and began her homework waiting for her mom
to get back home. Her dog sat beside her. Chrissy had just finished
her first math problem when she heard the
door slam downstairs. Mom must be home early. Chrissy called
down to her, "mom." There was no response. Probably just the
wind, she thought. She shrugged it off and
continued her homework. [dog whimpering] An hour past. She almost finished
her first assignment when she faintly heard the
sounds of pots and pans clanging downstairs.

She hadn't heard mom
come in the door. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. A voice called from downstairs. "One second," Chrissy responded,
finishing up her final math problem. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. The voice called again. Chrissy closed books
and walk downstairs, calling her dog to follow. But he wouldn't budge. She shrugged it off
and walked downstairs and into the kitchen. No one was there. But what she saw sent
a chill down her spine. Every pot and pan in the
house had been stacked neatly in the middle of the room. Cabinets lay open and empty. [door creaking] The side door flew
open beside her. In the doorway stood Chrissy's
mom, groceries in hand. But if she was only just getting
home, who laid out the pots and pans? [door creaking] Mom looked around at the
scattered pots and pans, confused.

"You helping me cook
tonight, Chrissy Loo?" "I didn't do this," replied
Chrissy, as she and her mom looked around the kitchen. "Then who did," asked her mom. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. Dinner is ready. Chrissy Loo. [sudden haunting music] I'm Faith. And this is the story of
The Woman in the Well. Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] Each year, Rachel's
mother would drop her off at her grandma's house
for their yearly visit. Grandma lived down
a long dirt road, miles from neighbors tucked
away in a beautiful forest.

At night, Rachel would
take grandma's dog Harry for a long walk in the woods. As she clips on Harry's
leash and stepped outside to begin their walk,
Rachel's phone buzzed. It surprised her. She didn't usually have
service so far away from town. An unknown number
had sent her a text. "Come to the well," it read. She tried to respond
and ask who it was, but her message
wouldn't go through. She shrugged it off. It was probably a
wrong number anyway. Harry pulled along the dirt
road, picking up a scent. She let him to lead her as she
looked up at the beautiful moon through the trees.

Suddenly, Harry stopped. [dog growling] He began growling
at what was in front of him. Looking around,
Rachel realized she was in unfamiliar territory. She'd never walk
this way before. She strained her
eyes to see what Harry was barking at up ahead. There stood a large stone well
in the middle of the pathway. She'd never seen it before. [dog growling] Curious, she crept toward
the wall with her cell phone flashlight and
peered down to the bottom.

But the well had dried up. All she could see was a bit
of wet dirt and darkness. "Hello," she called
down playfully, listening to the echo bouncing
back at her in the blackness. [cell phone buzzing] Her cell phone buzzed again. It was another text, but
this time it was a picture– of her. She jumped back
in shock, tripping over a tree root, her
phone flying in the air and shattering down beside her. She and Harry ran
back toward the house. Her grandma tried to calm her. The well was old and
dried up, she explained. In fact, it was odd she
stumbled across it tonight. Contractors were coming
tomorrow to cement it over. Rachel tried to show her grandma
the picture she'd been sent, but it had disappeared. Her grandma made her some
tea and Rachel fell asleep on the couch. Early in the morning,
she was awoken by the sound of a
cement truck backing up and her cell phone
ringing incessantly.

[cell phone buzzing] Half asleep, Rachel picked
up her shattered phone and held it to her ear. "Hello," she answered. (GHOSTLY) "Come to the well." Said a voice on the other line. (GHOSTLY) They're burying me." Rachel leapt up and ran
as fast as she could, but she was too late. The cement truck was driving
away, and a pile of gravel lay where the well had been. Hurriedly, she
picked up her phone and dialed back the number. [cell phone ringing] It rang. Then she heard a ringing
on the other line. [cell phone ringing] The ringtone emanated
from the ground deep, deep below her, buried
in the darkness.

[cell phones ringing] Until the ringing stopped. (GHOSTLY) "Hello?" I'm Faith. And this is the story
of the Maid in Suite 23. Don't turn out the lights. [music playing] Zach and his mother could
barely see the road ahead as they drove home from
their family holiday. They couldn't see more than
a foot in front of their car as the snow fell down like
sheets on the window shield. Tired and scared, they
breathed a sigh of relief when they saw a sign
up ahead for a place to wait out the storm– the Inn at Mudford. They'd spend the night and
finish the drive in the morning when the storm had passed. The old inn smelled like
moist wood and mothballs and felt eerily empty. They were greeted
by an old innkeeper. He informed them excitedly
that they were his only guests. And so he'd give them his
favorite suite to stay in. He led them to suite 23. He showed them the
first room– it was large and luxurious with
a king bed and large windows.

Then he showed them down
the hall to the second room, where Zach would stay. It was smaller with a twin bed. "Back when people used
to travel with stuff," the innkeeper explained. This is where the
maid would sleep. Once he was done with
his tour, the innkeeper bid them good night
and left the room. Zach got ready for bed. That night, Zach was awoken
by a faint knock on the door. [knocking on door] "Turn-down service," a voice
faintly called from beyond the closed door. "No, thank you," responded Zach. But then he heard the
knock a second time.

[knocking on door] Zach stood up, frustrated. What kind of maid visited
in the middle of the night. He opened the door. [door creaking] But no one was there. Perhaps he was
dreaming, he thought. He closed the door, locked
it, and got back into bed. [bed creaking] But something strange
happened to Zach as he slept. When he awoke, all his clothes
were neatly folded and put away. His bed was made around him and
his hair was carefully combed. He gathered his things and
went to the front desk. [pen scratching paper] Mom was already in the
middle of checking out, clearly losing patience
with the old innkeeper as he filled out his
paperwork by hand. She went to get the car as
Zach waited with the bags.

The innkeeper silently
stood behind the desk, watching Zach as he
stared out the window. The innkeeper thanked
Zach for his day. "It can get quiet
around here with just me and the maid who
died 200 years ago." A chill went down his spine. Zach hurried his bags outside. The maid couldn't be 200 years
old– that was impossible. He googled the Inn at Mudford,
trying to find answers. Headline after
headline popped up– "The Maid Who Haunts the
Mudford Inn," "Mudford Inn– The Most Haunted Inn." Suddenly, Zach knew who
knocked on his door. He knew who kept the
innkeeper company, and he knew who
tidied up his room in the middle of the night. [ghostly swoosh] It was the maid in suite
23 who died 200 years ago. [music playing] This is the story of The
Traveling Doll Maker. Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] [music playing] The story took place
in a very small village a long, long time ago.

Little William walked
to school along a familiar road when one day
he passed something strange. In an open field that
had long remained empty stood a traveling
doll maker's caravan. The caravan was
breathtaking, displaying realistic, life-like,
beautiful little boy and girl dolls arranged
neatly in colorful rows. William stopped and
stared at the dolls, mesmerized, when the
doll maker stepped out from behind his dolls. "Do you like my creations,"
asked the doll maker. "They're beautiful," responded
William, unable to look away. "Will you make me one?" "No," said the doll maker. "They're far too valuable." William pleaded and pleaded
with the doll maker. He'd said he'd steal. He'd sell all his possessions.

He'd do anything if only
the doll maker would just make him a beautiful doll. Finally, the doll maker
responded, "all right, but each of these dolls is
based off of someone I know. They're my greatest joy. If I were to make
one for you, you'd have to give me a gift that's
equally as valuable in return." "Anything." The doll maker smiled wide. "Bring me back the most
valuable thing in your home and I'll make you a doll." "I don't have anything of
value, but my father might." "I'll make you a deal
then," said the doll maker. "Tomorrow morning, bring me
your father's greatest joy and I'll make you a doll." They shook hands.

That evening, William
ran home after school. He searched his father's
office for the perfect thing to bring back to the doll maker. But he was scared his father
might notice if something too valuable was missing. So he looked for something he
could fool the doll maker with. He found a golden painted
rock on the bookshelf. His father would probably
never notice it was missing, and the doll maker
would never know it wasn't his
father's greatest joy. Proud of himself for
his clever trick, William walked back to the
doll maker in the morning. He handed him the rock
with anticipation. "This is not your father's
most prized possession," said the doll maker, throwing
the rock to the ground.

"I do not like liars. If you want me to
make you a doll, come back with your
father's greatest joy." That night while his
father was at work, William searched high and low
for the most expensive thing he could find. He opened the safe to
find solid gold cufflinks. He surmised they must
be worth a fortune.

Surely, the doll maker
would want these. The next day, he returned
to the doll maker with cufflinks in hand. "Is this what you believe to
be your father's greatest joy," asked the doll maker. "Yes," said William. The doll maker
examined the cufflinks. "I still don't
believe you," he said. "And now I'm growing angry. I leave in the morning. This is your last chance. Tomorrow, you will bring me your
father's greatest joy, if you want me to make you a doll." Growing desperate, William
ran home with his cufflinks as the sun went
down, hoping to find what the doll maker required. He burst into his
father's office to find him home from work,
toiling away at his desk. "Where were you, son,"
asked his father smiling.

"I was worried. Well, what'd I do if
something happened to you?" A chill went down
William's spine when you realized
what he'd just heard. You see, his father's
greatest joy was him. And he couldn't very well give
himself to the doll maker. He resolved to go back to
the shop in the morning and tell the doll
maker the deal was off. The doll maker was packing up
the shop as William approached. "I'm sorry," said William,
as he looked one last time at the beautiful dolls. "I cannot give you my father's
greatest joy, after all, because my father's
greatest joy is me." "Oh, but you can,"
said the doll maker, his face turned hard as stone. "That's how I make
all my dolls." William's blood went cold
when he looked at the dolls again, finally
seen them clearly. Every doll had realistic,
terrified eyes like children trapped, frozen, and scared. He tried to turn and run,
but his body stiffened. It was too late. The doll maker had his new
doll and William's father lost his greatest joy.

The caravan traveled
down the road to a new town, this
time carrying William– just another doll on a shelf. [music playing] Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] Ever since Sarah was
young, she always had a power she kept secret. Whatever she drew came true. Every day she played with
her best friend, Elizabeth. They'd play on magical
creations that came straight from Sarah's imagination. But as the girls got
older, they grew apart. Sarah threw herself deeper into
painting while Elizabeth played sports and started hanging
out with her friend Jessica more often. However, the two still
maintained a tradition of meeting up in front of school
and walking home together– until one day.

Sarah waited outside
for Elizabeth– and Elizabeth never came. And then it happened
again the next day. After days and days of
Elizabeth not showing up, Sarah confronted her at school. "Why won't you walk home
with me," she asked. "I walk home with Jessica now. It's no big deal. Sometimes things change." Sarah cursed at Elizabeth
and screamed hateful things. Heartbroken, she ran home. She grabbed an old
drawing of the two of them and tore it in half. The next day at
school when Sarah went to apologize to Elizabeth,
Elizabeth didn't recognize her.

She simply looked at
her with a blank stare. Later that day, she noticed
Jessica whispering something in Elizabeth's ear as though
they were talking about her. She became enraged again. That night, she
taped the drawing back together so Elizabeth
would remember who she was. But then, she made
another drawing. Clearly, Jessica was
poisoning Elizabeth's mind, and she had to be stopped. Jessica didn't come to
school the next day. Elizabeth remembered
Sarah again. And without Jessica
in the picture, the two met up in
front of the school and walked home
together once again. They hung out like old
times in Sarah's room. Sarah was ecstatic to
have her old friend back.

But when she went
downstairs to get lemonade, Elizabeth discovered
Sarah's drawings. As she flipped through the
drawings on Sarah's desk, her life flashed before her. She saw drawings
of their childhood, meeting up to walk
home after school, a ripped photo
taped back together. But it was when she
saw the last drawing that her blood ran cold. She ran out of Sarah's
house and down the street to Jessica's house where
she sprinted upstairs. She walked into Jessica's room. And there she saw her– Jessica was lying in
bed with no mouth. It was the last drawing she
had seen on Sarah's desk. When Sarah came back with
lemonade for Elizabeth, she panicked. Her drawings were strewn
about and Elizabeth was gone. She knew that Elizabeth
would never forgive her. And she couldn't live with
the despair of knowing that her best friend hated her. Then and there, she ripped
up every drawing she'd made, erasing herself from
Elizabeth's memory for life and putting Jessica
back to normal.

She went to school the next day,
a stranger to her best friend. And she never drew again. This is the story of The
Scratches in the Closet. Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] It was the dead of night. The house was quiet as Stacey
lay asleep down the hall from her parents. Suddenly, she awoke to the sound
of something in her closet. [doors rattling] She mustered up all her
courage and slinked out of bed and down the
hall, breaking into a run to get to her parents' room
as quickly as she could. Groggy, her father followed
her toward the closet to investigate the noise. The two of them slowly
opened the closet door. [door creaking] But nothing was there. Stacey slept peacefully
the next few nights– until she was woken up again. This time, the
sound was different. [scratching on wood] From behind the door, she
heard a rhythmic scratching, like someone carving into wood. The door opened just slightly. And through the cracks she
saw two, red, glowing eyes. The scratching continued. Scared she'd be
seen, she lay still, pretending to be asleep
until the morning. When the sun was up,
the noise was gone.

She grabbed her dad
to check the closet. On the inside of the
door was lettering in a strange kind
of language she couldn't understand
scratched into the wood. Stacey's dad was shaken. He installed security
cameras all over the house. They locked up all the doors. They closed every window. Nothing would get in or
out without them knowing. Stacy slept soundly that night– until she heard the
scratching again. [scratching on wood] Unable to stay put, she bolted.

The family fled outside
and called the police. The cops searched
the whole house. Then they reached Stacy's room. In the back of the closet
they discovered a hole. It was scratched through
the wall and led to nowhere. It was dark and
cavernous and deep. Where did it lead? What beast had made it? Would it come back? Stacey's dad had the hole
boarded up and covered with cement,
ensuring that nothing would come in or out again. But Stacy never
slept the same again. If the thing found
its way in once, couldn't it find
its way in again? [eerie music] Hi, I'm Faith. This is the story
of The Principle. Don't turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] As Gretchen sat with
the other freshmen on their first day
of high school, she could tell something
about Middle Heights High was different. But what Gretchen noticed
the most was how strangely well-behaved the students were. They were smiling and
polite and almost too calm.

Compared to the
upperclassmen, the freshmen were unkempt, loud,
and even a bit rowdy. Principal Richards
welcomed them. And after a speech
about how excellence is expected of
Middle Heights High, he led the student body
in singing the fight song. (SINGING) Middle
Heights High forever. In unison we learn together. We're all bound for
life– secret, safe, and held so tight. Very quickly, Gretchen
noticed that her classmates started to change.

One by one, they began to adopt
smiling, polite, eerily calm demeanor of the upperclassmen. The hallways got
quieter students as walked silently
from room to room. Gretchen found
herself appreciating the last few rambunctious and
loud classmates she had left, like Chad Thomas. But that ended one day
during first period when Chad made a joke
during Mrs. Woodrow's class, and she sent him
straight to detention. When he came back,
he wasn't the same. Suddenly, he seemed
like everyone else. His hair, usually messy,
was perfectly combed. His jacket was clean. He had on a rigid smile
and his eyes were blank. Something was happening
in detention that was making the students change.

As the days went on,
Gretchen struggled to fit in. While she worked diligently
in Mrs. Woodrow's class, she felt her classmates
staring at her, suspicious of how
she didn't fit in. As she felt their eyes on her,
she got more and more nervous. And she dropped her
pen on the floor. [MAGNIFIED SOUND OF PEN HITTING
GROUND] Mrs. Woodrow immediately
spun around with glee, maniacally smiling in a way
Gretchen had never seen before. It was like she'd been waiting
for Gretchen to mess up. "Detention," she screamed. Terrified, Gretchen grabbed her
things and walked out of class.

But as Gretchen
passed Chad's desk, he reached out and
grabbed her hand. "Don't go," he mouthed. She walked into the
hallway and slowly toward the exit,
ready to book it when she got outside
the school doors. Suddenly, Principal Richards
appeared in the hallway, blocking her way out
and motioning her toward the Detention Room. There was no getting out of it. "Welcome to detention,"
Principal Richard said as he pressed Play on a
TV at the front of the room. She stared at the door,
trying to figure out if she can make a run for
it, when she found her eyes being drawn toward the screen. There were flashing
lights, beautiful music. And she watched the whole thing. After that day, Gretchen
fit in just fine. [music playing] Hi, I'm Faith. This is the story of
The Wandering Woman. Don't turn out the lights.

[spooky gush of wind] [music playing] Brother and sister Mark and
Jess walked down the street on their way home from school. The two were so engrossed
in talking about their day that they didn't notice the old
woman standing in the sidewalk up ahead, staring right at them. "Hello," she said,
startling them. "I don't mean to alarm
you," she went on.

"I'm simply looking
for the library. I need to return
my book and I can't seem to find where to go." Something about the woman
made the hair stand up on the back of their necks. She was quiet and small. She wasn't scary, but
something wasn't right. "The library is back the way
you came, just down the road, around the corner
and to the right." "Darn it," she said, frustrated. She'd have to go back
the way she came. As she got upset, Mark and
Jess felt the air around them grow colder. Just offered to help. "We're going that way. How about I bring your
book to the library?" The woman smiled wildly.

"Thank you so much. That would help me a lot." She handed just the book. It was hot to the touch. The woman thanked them
and they parted ways. "Fee the book,"
said Jess to Mark. "It's burning up." He turned around to see if
the old woman was still there. But somehow, she
was already gone. They picked up their
pace and headed toward the library, ready to
return the book and get home. But when they rounded
the corner, they saw it– where the library had been
was a smoking pile of ash. Pieces of singed paper
fell down around them.

Mark caught one. At the top of the page he
read the title, Stranded. And then he read the title
of the book, Stranded. [spooky gush of wind].

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