Story 1:
When I was a child, my room had a small wooden rocking chair as part of the decor. I can’t recall ever using it, but my parents thought it added charm when we settled into our new house. Oddly enough, I often felt a strange sensation, like being watched in this new place at night.
Years after we moved in, I was cozily settled in bed with a book when, without warning, music began to play. My gaze darted to the little wooden rocking chair, now swaying gently. To my surprise, I discovered it had a hidden music box I knew nothing about. Terrified, I dashed out of the room, crying out to my parents, who merely laughed it off and said, “You must have accidentally nudged it while playing.” But I was sure—I’d been in bed the entire time, nowhere near the chair when it moved on its own.
Story 2:
Story 3:
At my first job at a hotel, I worked the front desk on the 3 PM to 11 PM shift. From 2 PM to 10 PM, I always had company, leaving me only a little more than an hour to man the desk alone. By 10:15 PM, with the kitchen closing at 10, it was usually just the bartender and me.
One night, nearing 11, an explosive clatter echoed from the kitchen. Together with the bartender, we rushed back, only to find chaos. Every pot, pan, ladle, and spoon that hung from the ceiling racks now lay scattered across the floor. A mess greeted us both for no apparent reason.
After our shift ended, we reviewed the security cameras, and an eerie silence filled the footage—no one stepped foot in that kitchen when it happened. The incident remains unexplained and remains one of the most unsettling episodes in my life, one that sent me fleeing as fast as I could. © Alejsays / Reddit
Story 4:
Story 5:
During my college years, I minded the house for my parents. Being a bit jittery, I made a habit of securing every door leading to the bedroom at night. One night, I experienced a peculiar dream—someone unlocking all doors and switching on every light. I awoke shivering, my dog barking in the darkness.
My heart pounded when I found every light blazing, and each door wide open. The barking continued, directed at some unseen presence in the hallway. Terrified, I huddled in the shower with my dog and my phone, spending a restless night full of fear.
Story 7:
One morning, I was on my usual commute along the highway. Cruising at around 65 mph, I noticed a rear-seat passenger in the car ahead. At first, I brushed it off as my less-than-perfect eyesight, but this passenger seemed unusually fixed on me.
Drawing closer, I expected a child or some prankster, only to meet the blank gaze of a mannequin head perched where the headrest should be, painted features staring blankly backward. The sight was enough to send a chill down my spine, urging me to slow down and add some distance between us for fear of any possible encounter. © Ritzaficionado / Reddit
Story 8:
Story 9:
As a teenager, around 15, I often babysat for neighbors down the road. Though the house was old, I never found it particularly unnerving, aside from their overly vocal rat terrier.
One evening, with the child asleep, I settled in the living room with the TV. Instead of her usual barks at the door, the dog began barking frantically at a corner. She darted to other rooms, as if pursuing something unseen, her barks echoing back to the kitchen where she finally stayed, barking in a frenzy for minutes.
To prevent the child from waking, I approached the kitchen, only to find every cabinet door wide open. Panic-stricken, I scooped up the dog and retreated to the living room, too unnerved to remain. When the parents returned, I vowed never to sit there again, a promise strengthened by my parents’ skepticism over my story.
Whenever I recall that night, a chill runs through me once more. © nothanksmil / Reddit
Story 10:
At 27, life dealt me a hard blow when my wife passed unexpectedly, leaving me to raise our 4-year-old son alone. I still keep her phone beside my bed. Last night, its familiar chime roused me—a text: “Trix, I’ll be home in 20 mins.” Our shared history turned haunting when I saw a response from her phone being typed out, saying, “I miss my daughter. I can’t stop thinking about her. We must follow through on our plan to bring her to her dad’s tonight!”
Disturbed, I searched through her messages, discovering countless exchanges with a mutual college acquaintance. Each text unraveled the reality of my loss, leaving me wrestling with doubt and fear, wondering if there was some cruel trick being played against the backdrop of my grief.
Now, each night, I hold my son a little closer, protective against the unseen threads trying to unravel our world.