Ouija Board Scary Story – We Never Touched the Board Ever Since

by Goldie
(Philadelphia, PA, USA)

(Photo from Ann Larie Valentine)


When I was in the 7th grade, my family got a dog who we named Trixie Blue, since she had blue merle coloring, and her mother's name was apparently Lucy Blue.

A few months later, my friends and I went to the mall to celebrate my best friend's 13th birthday and bought an Ouija board before going to her house for a slumber party.

Later that night, when it was sufficiently dark and spooky in her room, we whipped out the board, and I was honestly pretty skeptical. The board was made by Milton-Bradley and glowed in the dark, and was at the hands of a bunch of preteen girls who seemed the type to move the planchette on their own.

We asked the spirit some questions about its self (asking it how it died is apparently a big no-no, but we did anyway. I don't remember the answer now, but I'm glad we didn't offend the spirit too much), some questions about the future (American Idol should have been canceled in 2006, according to it, and by now I should be married to a famous actor).

Eventually, I asked it what my dog's name was. It started spelling out "Trixie", but my friends all knew that much and I was still convinced that one of them was moving it. When it was done spelling out her first name, it started "B...L..." I took my hand off the board and gasped.

Everyone wanted to know what was up. When I told them that her middle name was "Blue", they all ran out of the room screaming.

Nobody has touched the Ouija board ever since

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The New Year’s Eve Scandal - Hello Y2K

by Toni wells
(Stanton Missouri )

(Photo from Eero Mäensivu)

It was 1999 and me being the ever loving just turned 10 years of age Midwestern girl than I was, living in the rural town Stanton Missouri, was given in entirely to hype associated with the then though to occur complete and utter letdown of both society and electronically ran devices of any sort when the year struck the year 2000 on midnight, January 1.

The year and leading up to new year’s eve sleepover, my friend’s family and I had been hoarding supplies of canned food and bottled water. We had canned beef stew coming out of our ears. Jars holding beef jerky were stacked to the ceiling in the cold and dingy one way in one way out basement that I had decided to hold my (what I thought would be) life's final sleepover in.

The walls were completely exposed, you could see nothing but concrete and insulation and hear and feel every creepy noise as it shivered down your spine as you existed and breathed the musty air of the basement. And this creepy old place was the perfect place for my Y2K sleepover.

My friends and I had our sleeping bags, our flashlights and we were surrounded fears we had been hearing from the news, our piers and parent and we were surrounded by each other. We felt the urgency we had one hour until we though all the world was going to crash and people would be trying to loot our supply of food.

The girls in my sleepover were only allowed to stay that frightful night because their parents were above us having their own last hoo-rah before the Y2k wiped us all of. The air was cold and the snow was falling heavily. 45 minutes until the strike of twelve.

We heard a rustling outside of the only window the basement provided.40 minutes until the strike of midnight. We heard a "AHHHHH!!” 38 minutes until the strike of midnight.

My friend Sara, who at the time was a whopping 12, began to trek up the stairs to tell the adult what she had heard. CRASH! BOOM!BANG! The light flickered. Another screech was heard through the window, this time a flash along with it!

“The door, its, its jammed!" Sara screamed.

I could hear my heart beat in my chest. The lights flicker again and a tap at the window draws our attention and our attention turns to terror when two sets of glowing eyes are peering through the small pain glass.

We hear yell coming from up stairs’ hear my mother screaming hear my uncle Jim calling out for his brother. What is going on? 20 minutes until the strike of midnight. The girls and I are frightened beyond any scary story time we have had before. I jump up, need a weapon.

My readiest choices, canned tuna and an oddly long stick of beef jerky. The window begin to creak. The window, it opens? I didn't even know it opened. A hand reaches in. The girls begin to pick up all the hoarded items our parents had gathered, and arm ourselves we are girl scouts we are prepared. Two sets of hands reach in. The light flicker, they are still on at least we have light.10 minutes until the strike of midnight 2000.

The lights go out. The door opens. In one moment we sense bodies enter the room. We react and begin bombarding them with non-perishable good. Bam, swing slam bang! Aha! I’ve got you now Y2K intruder. I hear the glowing eyes intruder let out a yell!

O, my yell is similar to that of Uncle Jim’s. Is this an alien invasion. A scuffle is heard. The lights turn back on. It is alien invaders, body snatchers’ overturn a full stocked shelf of canned corn on the fiend.

Wait. This is, coincidentally, the story of how I broke Uncle Jim's nose and we spent the rest of our Y2K night in the hospital discussing with our parents why it is not wise to play practical jokes on girl-scout daughters at night.

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Scary Story at a Guatemalan Cemetery

by Carlos

(Photo from Mark)

My name is Carlos when this began I was young, I didn't think about my actions and was just having fun with my life. I was in Guatemala city to visit some relatives and friends I have there, after a couple of years of not seeing them, and one of them mentioned that in the City cemetery there was a place called the "XXX burial", there was the place where all the people that had no ID or family was placed and burned to ashes, he starts telling me that we should go, and I just accepted.

We went in a bus it was about 4:00 pm and we got in, it was not like a US cemetery, this place was scary, dark, with tall creepy trees and something they call "NICHOS" is like a wall where they put a lot of coffins inside piled up.

We start walking around and the first thin that creped me out is an open coffin with the person's suit inside but the actual bones and stuff were not there, my friend explains that the family of the deceased have to pay a certain amount a year if they don't pay they take the coffin out and the bones are burnt in the place he was gonna show me.

Other things I saw in the way: an old white dress (probably from another person they took out), fake teeth, glasses, and several suits piled up in a corner on one of the "nichos". We finally go to the place and there's just a big hole on the ground I look down, and there's all this bodies in plastic bags piled up, and ready to be burnt.

I couldn't resist I got a little bit dizzy so my friend says there's a place where they sell water or coke so we go, that's inside the cemetery, we go and the little store is closed, one of the workers asks us what we needed, and we say water, he says there's a guy that sells bottles of water near the babies nichos,

So we go and try to find him. There it is, the guy is sitting down on a pile of cokes and my friend asks for 2, he stands up while looking to the ground and says take 2 leave the money on top of the boxes. He has the strangest look on his face and never looked at us directly to the eyes, we did open the bottles start drinking and walking to the exit.

Suddenly we see a guy running fast from the entrance to us, and says: HEY DID YOU STOLE THOSE COKES FROM ME? !!!

And we are like: no a guy sell them to us. He says how did he look like? we explained him, with a stripes t-shirt and blue jeans, short, a little darker than the usual Guatemalan... his face expression changes, and says: did you leave the money on top of the box? and we are like yeah, that's what he said... and then the revelation.

Thank you he says and runs over the place where the guy was with the coke boxes... Then we ask the policeman in the entrance, what was that all about, and he says: they were associates, a guy went to buy a coke there 4 years ago, they got into an argument and his associate was stabbed to death in that same spot, we could not believe it, we went back and the guy was there, and says hey thanks I found the money. The guy that was there previously was nowhere to be seen.

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The Scarecrow on the Hill

(Photo from Visit Cape May)

I was 9, it was a get together for a Halloween party in New England. Halloween is always special for us, the leaves start to fall, and crisp in the frost that is soon to come. We spend hours raking our leaves together and stuffing them in old clothes to make scarecrows, sitting in lawn chairs on our front lawns.

This year, when I was nine I decided to hold my own Halloween gathering for my close school friends. The house I grew up in could be a little creepy in the fall for those who didn't know the beauty of it in the winter.

It was one of the last houses on a dead end street, worn clapboards on an old house, no street lights, leafless trees; the bitter wind blew off the almost frozen lake. No one knew what was to come when they came to that Halloween party in 1989.

I had only invited a handful of classmates, friends I had grown up with and knew all my life. We were all to come in costume and my parents welcomed the guests at the door and told them to stand next to the scarecrow sitting on the front lawn to wait for the other guests.

Where is the host? They would ask. Oh, Jolee, is putting the final touches on her costume, it is quite complicated. Guest after guest arrived, each with the same question, each directed to wait on the hill with the scarecrow sitting in the lawn chair.

Finally, everyone had arrived, standing in the silence of the neighborhood, getting more and more creped out by the wind sounds off the lake, and the anticipation of waiting for what was to come.

"Where is Joleen" one guest said to another. Her mother then came out of the front door and asked, "Has anyone seen Joleen? Is she out there? She was just right here working on finishing up her costume. I have looked all over for her and cannot find her anywhere. I'm started to get worried."

The guests' hearts started to race. What kind of party was this going to be? The host is missing, the Mom is already scared and we've found ourselves up waiting her for Joleen and now she is gone. Their eyes darted from tree to tree, they squinted to look into the forest that surrounded the property.

They couldn't see Joleen. There were no parents, they were off looking for Joleen. There was no sound but the sound of their breathes. They were starting to worry themselves. Where is Joleen? Why are we still waiting out here? What in the world is going on?

Two minutes passed, they shared thoughts about what this could all be. No one knew. 5 more minutes past, no one else is coming and no Joleen mom or dad, 10 minutes passed. They sat down on the hill with yellowing grass.

Some sitting close to one another for warmth in their Halloween costumes. I was when I heard for the first time one of the guests say, "I'm starting to get scared" that I became a part of the party. Iiiiiiiiiiiiii'm HEEEEEEEEEEERE, I screeched in a horrible little 9 year old voice. As I jumped out of the lawn chair on the hill.

They all ran for the house, and some stopped before going into the house to double check what just happened. All the while, while they waited, I had been the scarecrow in the lawn chair on the hill and I just waiting there patiently in my leaf filled clothes and pulled down snow cap, for the perfect moment to start the first scare of the Halloween party.

Needless to say, it worked.

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Who’s Knocking at My Door

(Photo from Natalia Rivera)

In every neighborhood there’s that one creepy house that no one will go up to and ring the bell at Halloween, that one that no one wants to even walk past to go to school.

One day, my friends and I were standing in front of the house, staring at the dark gray wood that was falling off the walls, the decrepit front porch that looked like it was going to cave in at any moment, and the shutters that were falling from its hinges.

They were all daring me to go and knock on the door and go inside. We had never seen anyone coming or going from the house, so we assumed it was vacant. Except, the lawn was always well manicured and the bushes pruned.

“Heck no!” I said to that idea, “there’s no way I’m going up to that creepy house.”

“Come Rick, are you chicken!?” Everyone yelled at me.

Of course not wanting to look bad in front of my friends, I started to walk up the cracked walkway. I made my way up to the stairs and they creaked loudly as my weight pressed upon them. I turned around to look at my friends who were all jumping and screaming for me to continue.

I figured if someone was inside, then they would have heard me approaching. I got to the front door and started to knock; once, twice, and then, suddenly, and very unexpectedly I heard, “Who’s knocking at my door.”

This creepy, old voice squeaked out. I almost fell backwards down the stairs when I heard it. The door was slightly cracked open. My friends all heard it and they stopped cheering, and all put their hands over their mouths.

Suddenly, one of my friends hells “Keep going…chicken!” He said, but we all knew he’d never go inside. So I decided I would. I knocked again and said “hello?” “Who’s knocking at my door?” Came again from inside the house.

It’s voice exactly the same as before, creepy and eerie. I opened the door and said “Hello?” once more. “Who’s knocking at my door.” Came again from deep inside the house, it sounded like it was in coming from the kitchen, so I made my that direction.

Again, this time without me saying anything, the voice rang out “Who’d knocking at my door?” The floor creaked as I walked through, everything was very clean and dusted, but looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1940s.

The women’s voice spoke again as I neared the entrance of the kitchen. “Who’s knocking at my door.” I wasn’t making any noise, and couldn’t figure out why this eerie lady wouldn’t answer me when I called out from the foyer.

I rounded the corner, expecting to see an old lady, sitting in a rocking chair, holding an a big butcher knife, waiting to cut me up into little pieces. Except, as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, what I saw was even more surprising!

It was a parakeet in a large gold cage saying “Who’s knocking at my door!” I laughed, and walked out of the house like nothing had happened, to greet my friends who were cheering that I was still alive!

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Footsteps and Monkey Hoots

by Ashley Hunt
(United States, Baltimore, Maryland)

A true scary story

A true scary story

(Photo from Lisa Cyr)

This story is completely true, and at the time freaked me out. When I was 9 years old, I hated the place we lived in Maryland. Something about it creped me out. There were two floors and three bedrooms. My room was small and on one side of the hall where my parents and brother were on the opposite side.

On the night this happened, my cousin Tina was spending the night in my room. My mother was gone for the night and my aunt was taking care of my brother my sister and I. There was a very dark shade in my room and pulled down, the room was pitch black.

As soon as bed time was announced, my cousin pulled the shade all the way down, but due to claustrophobia, we left the door open a smidgen. I remember this was the first time my cousin spent the night that I talked her out of telling ghost stories.

I fully admit even to this day I am a complete scared cat. All the more reason Tina liked to scare me. She was a terrible liar and made up odd little stories over everything. My mother taught us early on not to ever lie, so I could only tell the truth, which Tina knew well and always gave me a hard time.

On the night in question we went to bed early, and Tina went right to sleep. As a child I always had trouble sleeping and this night was no different. I had been lying there counting sheep and running scenarios.

I recall, I was in the middle of a story about a blue rabbit when I hear a strange noise. We lived in that house a year and I knew every noise of each room. There was a small creak of someone coming up the stairs.

At 9 years old, you know the footsteps of everyone in your family, and I knew right away it was no one in the house on the stairs. The others were all accounted for and I knew beyond any doubt no one had been down stairs.

The lay out of the house was very simple. Coming up from down stairs the first bedroom you would come across was my room. I positively held my breath as I heard the strange footsteps come closer and closer until they stopped, right outside my room.

I tried to nudge my cousin awake and wished she didn't snore quite as loud as she did. Whatever was at my door stood there and I knew once it saw my cousin and I we were doomed.

Fortunately it was pitch black and we were on the other side of the room. I was beginning to think I was being paranoid and only imagined the footsteps when I heard something that almost made me scream; whatever was at my door flipped the light switch.

I never knew cold sweat was an actual thing until that night. My light bulb had blown out earlier that day, so no light turned on. After about five flips to on and off, I heard the footsteps shift. I listened but they never seemed to go away. I guess it goes without saying I didn't get any sleep.

The next morning, I went with my cousin to breakfast and told everyone about what I heard the night before, but it wasn't anyone in my family, (At least that’s what they said.) Tina thought I was making it all up to prove I was not a chicken, but I assured her I was.

My Auntie, Maria told me it was a kind of ghost called a waliwoowoozoo and it came to shave us bald. She said we had to jump up and down and hoot like monkeys to make it go away. We hopped and hooted all over the house for almost three hours and Aunt Maria had to bribe us to make us stop.

She probably made up the whole thing about the waliwoowoozoo, but whatever it was has never come back. My cousin maintains it from her amazing hooting abilities.

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Mar 12, 2014
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*GOOSEBUMPS*
by: Denise

This blog post scared me to bits! I'm alone in our living room right now and I'm jumping out of my skin every time I hear a little sound! This is way too creepy. Brrrrr...

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Room 213 - The Scariest Story of My Life

by Jay
(Mankato, Minnesota)

(Photo from Jelle)

Finals week at school was always stressful. Late nights, tons of caffeine, and books stacked to the ceiling in order to prepare for the weeks to come.

The Memorial library at MSU usually closed at 2 in the morning, but on finals week they decided to keep it open 24 hours a day. My friends and I decided it would be a good idea to just spend the night studying and we could sleep there if we needed.

We reserved a study room and got number 213. We got into the room, a spacious room, yet small at the same time. We didn't think anything of our night in the library until the clock struck two. The lights were on an automatic timer, so when they went out we thought nothing of it.

“They’ll probably get it fixed in a bit” my friend Jacob said.

After 15 minutes only lit by the light of our laptop screens, we decided to ask someone about it. We went to the door, opened it up and headed to the stairs. The doors to the stairs were locked and wouldn't budge. We couldn't get out.

We pounded on the door but nothing seemed to work. Outside we could hear the wind howling and it made the whole night all the more spooky.

Eventually we decided the room was haunted being the room number 213, and we were trapped due to a ghost that had died during finals week.

None of us really believed in ghosts, but it still put an eerie spell on the night. We continued studying occasionally startled by the creaking floors. When the sun started to come up the lights went back on.

The doors were unlocked by a janitor who was surprised to see us. It turns out there was no haunting. The second floor closed at 2, and the person that gave us the room didn't know we planned on spending the night.

The lights were turned off for the second floor, and the doors were locked so students couldn't get into trouble up there. So much for a haunted library, but the experience was still fun spooky.

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Mar 09, 2014
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Scary!!
by: Denise

Damn, you guys were so brave. I can't imagine how you were able to keep your wits and still study under those conditions. If it was me, I would've probably died from fright in the first hour. ahahha! Hope the finals went well!

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Red Door, Yellow Door, Any other Color Door!

by Emily Mason
(New York)

INFO: for this game, all you'll need is 1 person as your guest to play. They have to remain silent and only nod their head and get up in their mind.


STEP 1: Get your guest and have them lay down on the ground, with a pillow.

STEP 2: Massage their temples and fingers and say the following: Red door, yellow door, any other color door.

STEP 3: If there are people watching, it will help if they chant too.

STEP 4: Next, ask them questions such as: Do you see any doors? Like the colors purple, red, or yellow?

STEP 5: Remind them not to go INSIDE the purple door.

STEP 6: Ask them if they see any people in black. If yes, tell them to not make ANY contact with them! And if they see a man in a suit, don’t even look at him!

STEP 7: Tell the person to go in any door they choose to, and if they aren't answering your questions, WAKE THEM IMMEDIATLY.

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Dec 01, 2015
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Sounds really eerie
by: Francis

Scary stuff! What sort of things do you guys see when you do this? Do you darken the room, put up candles and stuff to make the mood even scarier?

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