Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
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28-10-2016, 01:56 PM
Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
So on Monday, I will be streaming on my gaming channel all day.
The vast majority of that stream will be gaming.
But I am also planning to read 2 short Halloween stories.

I googled around a bit and I find either stories for children or actual litrature (Poe and such)
What I am looking for is for teenagers and young adults and it should be possible to read it within 5-10 minutes.

I would appreciate any help.
Copy paste stuff, links, your own stories, etc.

Thanks in advance

"Freedom is the freedom to say that 2+2=4" - George Orwell (in 1984)
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28-10-2016, 02:05 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
I think Commonsensei has a link to a whole bunch of stories he started. Maybe he can post it for you--I'm not sure where it is.

"Let the waters settle and you will see the moon and stars mirrored in your own being." -Rumi
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28-10-2016, 04:53 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
Are you looking specifically for Halloween related stories or just anything that could be classified as creepy?

Popcorn I put more thought into fiction than theists put into reality.
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28-10-2016, 05:07 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
Hillary Clinton as POTUS. Ooooohhhh, spoooooky

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28-10-2016, 05:55 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
(28-10-2016 04:53 PM)CleverUsername Wrote:  Are you looking specifically for Halloween related stories or just anything that could be classified as creepy?

Anything creepy, spooky as long as it can be read.

"Freedom is the freedom to say that 2+2=4" - George Orwell (in 1984)
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28-10-2016, 05:56 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
So, this isn’t a Halloween story so much as it is a story about something that actually happened in my community on Halloween one year…

Most every rural community has its own variations on old legends and haunted places, and the rural community in which I grew up was no different. It was primarily a Pentecostal Holiness community. The women wore long skirts and didn’t cut their hair. The men were kind and gentlemanly, and friendly, if a bit standoffish. There is something about strict religious practices that often create environments ripe for mischievousness among teenagers. Those children raised in homes where horseplay was forbidden and sexuality was repressed tended to create a special breed of teenaged rebel. Our community, with its draconian doctrine that forbade all drinking, smoking, gambling, dancing, and even watching most TV, seemed to have more than its fair share of malicious teenagers. And, for whatever reason, Halloween seemed to be their favorite time of the year.

Every year, in the month of October, stories of devil worshippers sacrificing animals in the caves out on the edge of the community would begin to circulate at school. Some of the older kids, usually seniors would claim to have been to the caves and encountered them. Farmers would report finding mutilated corpses of their livestock. Mailboxes would be smashed, doors would be egged, and other acts of vandalism and nonsense would ensue. No one seemed to know exactly who the perpetrators were or where they had come from. Every year, the stories would be a little different. Sometimes they came from neighboring communities, sometimes they were said to be members of our own community secretly practicing witchcraft.

We were transplants to the community, and so I did not entirely fit in very well. This was, perhaps, the only reason I am able to tell this story now. As a young teenager, maybe thirteen years old, I didn’t have many friends. I rode bikes and played baseball with a couple of kids close to my age that lived along the same country road as I did. But their parents always seemed to look at me funny. Sometimes it seemed they pitied me, but usually they treated me as an outsider and a possible source of corruption of their children. That particular year, I wanted to do something to try to fit in, or at least make a name for myself among my peers. I began to hatch a plan to capitalize on the community’s affinity for sensationalizing the occult and bring to life one of the local legends.

One of the more popular haunted places was place called Cry Baby Holler (or Hollow for the yankees). The story was said to have begun sometime during the late 1800’s, when the community was first established by a fringe group of the holiness movement seeking a remote and quiet location to practice their brand of religion without interference. Apparently, the location the group chose was not entirely unpopulated. The few inhabitants of the little valley were a hard-scrabble and hard-living bunch, most likely outlaws or half-breeds, that didn’t appreciate the sudden influx of outsiders. Anyway, it was said that there was a young mother, who returning from town late one evening, was walking through this hollow. A narrow and poorly kept dirt road from town led down through the hollow and there crossed a rickety wooden bridge before heading back up and out. The due to the hills on either side and the thick trees and underbrush, the hollow was somewhat dark, even in full daylight. At dusk, it was quite dark. The mother was carrying her baby strapped to her front and leading her horse as she approached the bridge. It was there that a couple of young men, presumably those indigenous locals, met the young woman and proceeded to rape, beat and kill her. They left her body there in the road. When the husband of the young woman became concerned and went looking for her, he found her bloodied body along with the horse standing nearby. However, the baby was nowhere to be found. The husband rounded up a group of his kinsmen on a search. They went to the homes of three or four families that they suspected of harboring the murderers and, not finding the baby, they flew into a rage and murdered everyone in sight. The baby was never found. It is presumed that its crying must have attracted a coyote or a cougar that then carried it away. But now, as the legend goes, if you drive through the hollow, stop on the bridge, and turn off the engine you can hear the baby crying deep in the shadows of the hollow. And if you are lucky, and you can sit still and quiet enough after the baby begins to scream and cry, you will see the apparition of the young mother in her long skirt, long hair bundled up top of her head. The few who have been brave enough to wait say she appears as a faintly glowing blue ghost frantically searching for her baby.

This was the story I would exploit to make a name for myself. To make things even better, there was a particular group of senior boys that had been making my life miserable at school that year. I'm pretty sure they were behind the so called devil worshippers and mutilated cattle and was damned sure they were the ones that had smashed our mailbox. It would be a grand Halloween finale for me to simultaneously expose these reprobates and also make a name for myself in the community. I knew that these boys would be taking their dates out to Cry Baby Hollow on Halloween night. They would drive them out and turn off the engine and hope for one of the bobcats or coyotes or screech owls common to those woods to cry out. They hoped that the girls, full of fear and hormones and dumb scary stories, would latch onto their male companions who would talk for weeks to come of their own bravery in the face of the danger. In reality, I intended to put a real scare into them all; one they wouldn't be so eager to tell at school the next day.

That evening, with my backpack stuffed with ghost making supplies and my boom box strapped onto the handlebars of my bike, I headed out a little before dusk to get into place. I would set the boom box up with the tape of a crying baby off to one side of the road. I tied my ghost up onto the limb of huge old oak that reached high out over the road just at the edge of the bridge and pulled it back. Once the girls were screaming and the boys were laughing, I would let it swing down at the car and watch as they all wet themselves in terror. I had my Polaroid ready to capture it all for posterity.

I was all set and waiting as it got darker and darker. Even knowing that I was the supposed ghost of Cry Baby Hollow, not some spirit, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up as I sat in eerie silence and pith darkness. I blamed it on the chill in the air and giggled to myself as I imagined the faces of these goons when the camera flash would reveal the ghost before them. That's when I heard it.

It was the god-awfullest cry I've ever heard. It sounded like a child, but not a normal cry. It was the guttural scream of a child being ripped limb from limb. My heart stopped and goosebumps rose on my arms. Suddenly headlights appeared around the corner. In a panic, I let go of the rope and ran into the road hoping to wave the car down. The car approached me extremely fast and then swerved to one side with a screech of brakes. It clipped the edge of the bridge and disappeared over the edge of the ravine.

The car was found the next day, upside down in the creek beneath the bridge. It was littered with broken beer bottles. The four missing teenagers, one of which was the owner of the car, were never found. More than twenty five years later, the community rarely speaks of that night. But in October, the teenagers say that the ghosts of four teens are often seen walking along the bridge late at night.

As for me, my family moved away a few months after that fateful Halloween night. And I have never spoken of that night to anyone, until now.

I just wanted to let you know that I love you even though you aren't naked right now. Heart
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28-10-2016, 05:58 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
(28-10-2016 05:56 PM)TurkeyBurner Wrote:  So, this isn’t a Halloween story so much as it is a story about something that actually happened in my community on Halloween one year…

Most every rural community has its own variations on old legends and haunted places, and the rural community in which I grew up was no different. It was primarily a Pentecostal Holiness community. The women wore long skirts and didn’t cut their hair. The men were kind and gentlemanly, and friendly, if a bit standoffish. There is something about strict religious practices that often create environments ripe for mischievousness among teenagers. Those children raised in homes where horseplay was forbidden and sexuality was repressed tended to create a special breed of teenaged rebel. Our community, with its draconian doctrine that forbade all drinking, smoking, gambling, dancing, and even watching most TV, seemed to have more than its fair share of malicious teenagers. And, for whatever reason, Halloween seemed to be their favorite time of the year.

Every year, in the month of October, stories of devil worshippers sacrificing animals in the caves out on the edge of the community would begin to circulate at school. Some of the older kids, usually seniors would claim to have been to the caves and encountered them. Farmers would report finding mutilated corpses of their livestock. Mailboxes would be smashed, doors would be egged, and other acts of vandalism and nonsense would ensue. No one seemed to know exactly who the perpetrators were or where they had come from. Every year, the stories would be a little different. Sometimes they came from neighboring communities, sometimes they were said to be members of our own community secretly practicing witchcraft.

We were transplants to the community, and so I did not entirely fit in very well. This was, perhaps, the only reason I am able to tell this story now. As a young teenager, maybe thirteen years old, I didn’t have many friends. I rode bikes and played baseball with a couple of kids close to my age that lived along the same country road as I did. But their parents always seemed to look at me funny. Sometimes it seemed they pitied me, but usually they treated me as an outsider and a possible source of corruption of their children. That particular year, I wanted to do something to try to fit in, or at least make a name for myself among my peers. I began to hatch a plan to capitalize on the community’s affinity for sensationalizing the occult and bring to life one of the local legends.

One of the more popular haunted places was place called Cry Baby Holler (or Hollow for the yankees). The story was said to have begun sometime during the late 1800’s, when the community was first established by a fringe group of the holiness movement seeking a remote and quiet location to practice their brand of religion without interference. Apparently, the location the group chose was not entirely unpopulated. The few inhabitants of the little valley were a hard-scrabble and hard-living bunch, most likely outlaws or half-breeds, that didn’t appreciate the sudden influx of outsiders. Anyway, it was said that there was a young mother, who returning from town late one evening, was walking through this hollow. A narrow and poorly kept dirt road from town led down through the hollow and there crossed a rickety wooden bridge before heading back up and out. The due to the hills on either side and the thick trees and underbrush, the hollow was somewhat dark, even in full daylight. At dusk, it was quite dark. The mother was carrying her baby strapped to her front and leading her horse as she approached the bridge. It was there that a couple of young men, presumably those indigenous locals, met the young woman and proceeded to rape, beat and kill her. They left her body there in the road. When the husband of the young woman became concerned and went looking for her, he found her bloodied body along with the horse standing nearby. However, the baby was nowhere to be found. The husband rounded up a group of his kinsmen on a search. They went to the homes of three or four families that they suspected of harboring the murderers and, not finding the baby, they flew into a rage and murdered everyone in sight. The baby was never found. It is presumed that its crying must have attracted a coyote or a cougar that then carried it away. But now, as the legend goes, if you drive through the hollow, stop on the bridge, and turn off the engine you can hear the baby crying deep in the shadows of the hollow. And if you are lucky, and you can sit still and quiet enough after the baby begins to scream and cry, you will see the apparition of the young mother in her long skirt, long hair bundled up top of her head. The few who have been brave enough to wait say she appears as a faintly glowing blue ghost frantically searching for her baby.

This was the story I would exploit to make a name for myself. To make things even better, there was a particular group of senior boys that had been making my life miserable at school that year. I'm pretty sure they were behind the so called devil worshippers and mutilated cattle and was damned sure they were the ones that had smashed our mailbox. It would be a grand Halloween finale for me to simultaneously expose these reprobates and also make a name for myself in the community. I knew that these boys would be taking their dates out to Cry Baby Hollow on Halloween night. They would drive them out and turn off the engine and hope for one of the bobcats or coyotes or screech owls common to those woods to cry out. They hoped that the girls, full of fear and hormones and dumb scary stories, would latch onto their male companions who would talk for weeks to come of their own bravery in the face of the danger. In reality, I intended to put a real scare into them all; one they wouldn't be so eager to tell at school the next day.

That evening, with my backpack stuffed with ghost making supplies and my boom box strapped onto the handlebars of my bike, I headed out a little before dusk to get into place. I would set the boom box up with the tape of a crying baby off to one side of the road. I tied my ghost up onto the limb of huge old oak that reached high out over the road just at the edge of the bridge and pulled it back. Once the girls were screaming and the boys were laughing, I would let it swing down at the car and watch as they all wet themselves in terror. I had my Polaroid ready to capture it all for posterity.

I was all set and waiting as it got darker and darker. Even knowing that I was the supposed ghost of Cry Baby Hollow, not some spirit, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up as I sat in eerie silence and pith darkness. I blamed it on the chill in the air and giggled to myself as I imagined the faces of these goons when the camera flash would reveal the ghost before them. That's when I heard it.

It was the god-awfullest cry I've ever heard. It sounded like a child, but not a normal cry. It was the guttural scream of a child being ripped limb from limb. My heart stopped and goosebumps rose on my arms. Suddenly headlights appeared around the corner. In a panic, I let go of the rope and ran into the road hoping to wave the car down. The car approached me extremely fast and then swerved to one side with a screech of brakes. It clipped the edge of the bridge and disappeared over the edge of the ravine.

The car was found the next day, upside down in the creek beneath the bridge. It was littered with broken beer bottles. The four missing teenagers, one of which was the owner of the car, were never found. More than twenty five years later, the community rarely speaks of that night. But in October, the teenagers say that the ghosts of four teens are often seen walking along the bridge late at night.

As for me, my family moved away a few months after that fateful Halloween night. And I have never spoken of that night to anyone, until now.

Awww I thought for sure you were going to post the one about your succubus Undecided Laugh out load

"Let the waters settle and you will see the moon and stars mirrored in your own being." -Rumi
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28-10-2016, 06:08 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
(28-10-2016 05:58 PM)jennybee Wrote:  
(28-10-2016 05:56 PM)TurkeyBurner Wrote:  So, this isn’t a Halloween story so much as it is a story about something that actually happened in my community on Halloween one year…

Most every rural community has its own variations on old legends and haunted places, and the rural community in which I grew up was no different. It was primarily a Pentecostal Holiness community. The women wore long skirts and didn’t cut their hair. The men were kind and gentlemanly, and friendly, if a bit standoffish. There is something about strict religious practices that often create environments ripe for mischievousness among teenagers. Those children raised in homes where horseplay was forbidden and sexuality was repressed tended to create a special breed of teenaged rebel. Our community, with its draconian doctrine that forbade all drinking, smoking, gambling, dancing, and even watching most TV, seemed to have more than its fair share of malicious teenagers. And, for whatever reason, Halloween seemed to be their favorite time of the year.

Every year, in the month of October, stories of devil worshippers sacrificing animals in the caves out on the edge of the community would begin to circulate at school. Some of the older kids, usually seniors would claim to have been to the caves and encountered them. Farmers would report finding mutilated corpses of their livestock. Mailboxes would be smashed, doors would be egged, and other acts of vandalism and nonsense would ensue. No one seemed to know exactly who the perpetrators were or where they had come from. Every year, the stories would be a little different. Sometimes they came from neighboring communities, sometimes they were said to be members of our own community secretly practicing witchcraft.

We were transplants to the community, and so I did not entirely fit in very well. This was, perhaps, the only reason I am able to tell this story now. As a young teenager, maybe thirteen years old, I didn’t have many friends. I rode bikes and played baseball with a couple of kids close to my age that lived along the same country road as I did. But their parents always seemed to look at me funny. Sometimes it seemed they pitied me, but usually they treated me as an outsider and a possible source of corruption of their children. That particular year, I wanted to do something to try to fit in, or at least make a name for myself among my peers. I began to hatch a plan to capitalize on the community’s affinity for sensationalizing the occult and bring to life one of the local legends.

One of the more popular haunted places was place called Cry Baby Holler (or Hollow for the yankees). The story was said to have begun sometime during the late 1800’s, when the community was first established by a fringe group of the holiness movement seeking a remote and quiet location to practice their brand of religion without interference. Apparently, the location the group chose was not entirely unpopulated. The few inhabitants of the little valley were a hard-scrabble and hard-living bunch, most likely outlaws or half-breeds, that didn’t appreciate the sudden influx of outsiders. Anyway, it was said that there was a young mother, who returning from town late one evening, was walking through this hollow. A narrow and poorly kept dirt road from town led down through the hollow and there crossed a rickety wooden bridge before heading back up and out. The due to the hills on either side and the thick trees and underbrush, the hollow was somewhat dark, even in full daylight. At dusk, it was quite dark. The mother was carrying her baby strapped to her front and leading her horse as she approached the bridge. It was there that a couple of young men, presumably those indigenous locals, met the young woman and proceeded to rape, beat and kill her. They left her body there in the road. When the husband of the young woman became concerned and went looking for her, he found her bloodied body along with the horse standing nearby. However, the baby was nowhere to be found. The husband rounded up a group of his kinsmen on a search. They went to the homes of three or four families that they suspected of harboring the murderers and, not finding the baby, they flew into a rage and murdered everyone in sight. The baby was never found. It is presumed that its crying must have attracted a coyote or a cougar that then carried it away. But now, as the legend goes, if you drive through the hollow, stop on the bridge, and turn off the engine you can hear the baby crying deep in the shadows of the hollow. And if you are lucky, and you can sit still and quiet enough after the baby begins to scream and cry, you will see the apparition of the young mother in her long skirt, long hair bundled up top of her head. The few who have been brave enough to wait say she appears as a faintly glowing blue ghost frantically searching for her baby.

This was the story I would exploit to make a name for myself. To make things even better, there was a particular group of senior boys that had been making my life miserable at school that year. I'm pretty sure they were behind the so called devil worshippers and mutilated cattle and was damned sure they were the ones that had smashed our mailbox. It would be a grand Halloween finale for me to simultaneously expose these reprobates and also make a name for myself in the community. I knew that these boys would be taking their dates out to Cry Baby Hollow on Halloween night. They would drive them out and turn off the engine and hope for one of the bobcats or coyotes or screech owls common to those woods to cry out. They hoped that the girls, full of fear and hormones and dumb scary stories, would latch onto their male companions who would talk for weeks to come of their own bravery in the face of the danger. In reality, I intended to put a real scare into them all; one they wouldn't be so eager to tell at school the next day.

That evening, with my backpack stuffed with ghost making supplies and my boom box strapped onto the handlebars of my bike, I headed out a little before dusk to get into place. I would set the boom box up with the tape of a crying baby off to one side of the road. I tied my ghost up onto the limb of huge old oak that reached high out over the road just at the edge of the bridge and pulled it back. Once the girls were screaming and the boys were laughing, I would let it swing down at the car and watch as they all wet themselves in terror. I had my Polaroid ready to capture it all for posterity.

I was all set and waiting as it got darker and darker. Even knowing that I was the supposed ghost of Cry Baby Hollow, not some spirit, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up as I sat in eerie silence and pith darkness. I blamed it on the chill in the air and giggled to myself as I imagined the faces of these goons when the camera flash would reveal the ghost before them. That's when I heard it.

It was the god-awfullest cry I've ever heard. It sounded like a child, but not a normal cry. It was the guttural scream of a child being ripped limb from limb. My heart stopped and goosebumps rose on my arms. Suddenly headlights appeared around the corner. In a panic, I let go of the rope and ran into the road hoping to wave the car down. The car approached me extremely fast and then swerved to one side with a screech of brakes. It clipped the edge of the bridge and disappeared over the edge of the ravine.

The car was found the next day, upside down in the creek beneath the bridge. It was littered with broken beer bottles. The four missing teenagers, one of which was the owner of the car, were never found. More than twenty five years later, the community rarely speaks of that night. But in October, the teenagers say that the ghosts of four teens are often seen walking along the bridge late at night.

As for me, my family moved away a few months after that fateful Halloween night. And I have never spoken of that night to anyone, until now.

Awww I thought for sure you were going to post the one about your succubus Undecided Laugh out load

Stay tuned...

I just wanted to let you know that I love you even though you aren't naked right now. Heart
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28-10-2016, 07:53 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
(28-10-2016 05:55 PM)Leela Wrote:  Anything creepy, spooky as long as it can be read.

There's a thing called Creepypasta, which is basically scary stories told on the internet (if you didn't know that already). Like 99% of them suck really hard, so here's a link to stories by someone whose reputation is decent.

I'd be lying if I said I personally was into them, but, you know, can't hurt to poke around.

Popcorn I put more thought into fiction than theists put into reality.
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29-10-2016, 03:09 PM
RE: Need short Halloween / Spooky stories
Finally had the time to read some. I like the link. The stories are nice and short. And some are creepy enough but not too creepy. Great one, thanks

TurkeyBurner I read yours too. I like it a lot but I don't think i can read it on the stream. It would sound weird in first person coming from me and I don't wanna butcher it to make it sound more believable. Very nice though, I like it.

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