CHILLS 5. This all happened about 3 hours ago. I moved back in with my mother about 2 weeks
ago due to my lease ending at my apartment and my girlfriend and I splitting up about
a month before the end date. She took the new place we had looked at together
and since she had put down the security deposit and paid everything up front, I didn’t have
a lot of say in the matter. My mother offered to let me stay in her spare
bedroom for a month or 2 while I get back up on my feet and save till I can get my own
place. This was a disaster waiting to happen and
my mother and I don’t live well together. Without any options on such short notice,
I took her up on the offer and moved in. It’s a small town house tucked away from main
roads, about 5 minutes away from anything of interest. It heats up like a sauna during the day and
so I didn’t spend much time there unless it was in the evening or my day off. Thankfully I work from 8am-7pm so I don’t
bare the brunt of the heat. Mom works from 5am-4pm herself and shes usually
going to bed by the time I’m home, and the less interaction we have, the less chance
we butt heads, but that all changed tonight. 2 weeks in and my mother and I have lived
surprisingly well with one another, which is a far from when I was in highschool and
growing up. She asked if I would go to the store with
her since it was finally cooling off, most people don’t crowd grocery stores at night,
and she needed help carrying a few things she needed to buy. Not like my company would have been nice or
anything. No big deal, I couldn’t argue with her letting
me stay rent free, so why not. I offered to drive, so she left her keys in
the house. My smart ass left mine too and it was a reflex
to twist the lock on the knob when you walked out. We both realized once we got to my car that
neither one of us had keys. Great time for our first fight in awhile,
right? After we cleared up the “way to go on forgetting
your keys,” and “I knew I shouldn’t have asked for your help” bullshit, she tried calling
her land Lord to see if she would come unlock the house with the spare key. While she did that, I walked around to the
front door to see if by some miracle it was unlocked, but no luck. The Landlord is out of town we find out, so
we call the landlords son to see if he has a spare, and he doesn’t either. Awesome! Thankfully, my mother has a back deck with
furniture and I had my cigarettes so we call a lock smith and decide to wait it out. Now, to describe things a bit, the town house
is 2 stories. From the table and chairs on the back porch,
you’re about 10-12 feet away from the back door and the spare bedroom overlooks the whole
back area. After a few more minutes of complaining At
each other, we sit in silence and my eyes wonder to the window for the spare room. Its about 915pm and so it’s still decently
light outside. I can see everything fairly well, and I see
the blinds start swaying slightly. At first I thought I was crazy, and didn’t
say anything. I thought it out and remembered I left my
fan on and it rotates to cover whole bedroom and regularly blows the blinds a bit. My mom and I start talking about work, friends,
life in general and I catch the blinds moving out of the corner of my eye again, but this
time, one of them is held up, and I make out the distinct shape of a face. I stand up, walk over to the side of the house
and try to get a better angle, but the blind slid back into place as soon as I moved. Its about 930 at this point, and my mother
keeps asking me what I’m doing, why I’m pacing in the yard. I’m thoroughly freaked out and I’m convinced
that someone was in the house, in my room, watching down at us. Despite my better judgement, I don’t tell
my mom. Instead, I come and sit back down, act as
natural as possible and wait to see if I’m not slowly going crazy like my dad did before
he ran out on us. In consecutive 5 minute intervals, I glanced
up at the window to see if there was anymore movement. By about 940, my mom’s getting cranky as hell
waiting for the locksmith and started laying into me again about forgetting my keys. I’m so far away from giving a shit, it’s dark
outside and we didn’t leave any outside lights on so it’s getting darker and I’m already
creeped out. The only lights in the house that were left
on when we left was the living room and dining room. My bedroom light was off, and at 945, when
the lock smith finally showed up, I looked up at my window again and the light was now
on in the spare room. The lock smith unlocks our back door, my mom
grabs her debit card and pays him, and I beat her to the door before she can go inside. I tell her to wait for me to check things
out, and before she can start complaining I tell her, “mom, I saw someone through the
window while we were waiting for the lock smith.” Color drains out of her face, and I step inside. Grab the keys from the counter where I left
them right inside the door, and I shut the back door. We walk over to my car, parked about 50 ft
away on the street and I retrieve my pistol. I always conceal carry, and I have 1 firearm
in the house, and 1 in my vehicle at all times. My mom sits down in my car, calls 911 and
I go back to the house, armed and ready to deal with whoever was in there. I checked every room, inside every cupboard
and drawer, the bathrooms and closets, and finally my room. Nothing, no one is hiding anywhere and I’m
starting to think I’m actually nuts for a second, until I check my bedroom closet and
find my 2nd gun missing. Okay, red flag.. I get the hell out of dodge at that point,
come blasting down the stairs and that’s when I realize the front door is unlocked. That was the first thing I checked when we
were locked out, and now it’s not. Someone was definitely here. Cops have been called and arrive after about
10 minutes. We explain what happened and obviously decide
not to stay there tonight but they checked everything out before we left, no signs of
forced entry and the only thing we could document as missing was my gun. What the do I do here? We’re not going back to that house, I’m damn
sure of that, but Jesus Christ man. I’m spooked as hell. I’m writing this from my phone and were at
my aunt’s house, and now we have half our damn family going nuts over this too. Not how I wanted to spend my Thursday night. 4. My parents divorced when I was eight years
old. They had just purchased a house together in
the woods in Walker, Louisiana, which is twenty or so miles from Baton Rouge. After seeing his subsequent relationships,
I realize that this is something my father does when his marriage is rocky- he sells
his house and then buys or builds a new one for the sake of distraction. I’ve actually seen it work for him. Once engaged in a new project and excited
by the possibilities, his wife might forget to ask why he was out so late, who he was
with, and why he smells like another woman’s perfume. But this time, his trick didn’t work. My mother had had enough. I don’t even think we lived in that house
in the woods for a full year before my mother suggested he go stay with his whore instead. I wasn’t terribly upset by this. My father and I had never been close. He was a no-nonsense high school coach, and
I was bookish and skinny and weird. Far from the athlete he’d wanted. Though, to be fair, he didn’t try to push
me into sports or pressure me to follow football. Instead, he ignored me entirely in favor of
my little brother, Trent, who seemed like he was born with a ball in his hand. Trent didn’t play one sport, he played all
of them, starting when he was merely a toddler. I never resented either of them for this,
I merely mention it to help paint a picture of my brother. If Trent and I had been one person, we’d be
a very well-rounded individual. Me, precocious and dreamy and even-tempered. Trent, sporty and rough and emotional, living
up very well to the reputation that came with his bright red hair even when he was still
in diapers. You couldn’t have two more opposite children. But we loved each other fiercely, particularly
in the early years of our parents’ divorce. Though there were three bedrooms in this house
in the woods, Trent and I shared one, not wanting to be separated. That changed around the time I turned ten. I was starting puberty as well as the weird,
self-exploratory sessions that came with it, so I figured it was time I had my own room. Without so much as asking my mother, I began
moving my things to the room across the hall to claim my new space. We’d been living in that house in the woods
for a couple of years now, and even though it had felt large and empty in the days following
my father’s exile, now it felt like home. And I had claimed a new room all for myself,
where I wouldn’t be bothered by Trent’s nightlight or those soft, irritating snuffling noises
he made in his sleep. But still, though I figured I was too old
for a nightlight, the inky darkness of my room when I turned my bedside lamp off was
a bit too much. My mother would sleep in her room at the end
of the hall with the door open, so she could hear us if we called, and she would often
fall asleep watching Letterman or Seinfeld. The ghostly blue glow of the TV in her room
illuminated mine just enough to pacify me, so I began sleeping with my bedroom door open. I was ten then. I’m thirty now. I have not been able to sleep with my bedroom
door open for twenty years because of what I saw standing in my room that night. I don’t know what woke me. I was simply awake and I hadn’t been a moment
before. Everything was quiet, everything was still. The sleep-timer on my mother’s TV must have
clicked it off, because there was no noise anywhere, not even the whirr of the air-conditioner. Not even crickets in the woods outside. Simple, unbroken silence. I lay in bed for a while, staring at my ceiling
and puzzling over why I had awoken. I realized I was very cold, even though the
A/C wasn’t running. With a small shiver, I pulled my comforter
around my shoulders and rolled on my side to face my bedroom door. And there it was. As I am reading this, a strong chill is passing
though me; even twenty years later, the thought of the thing is enough to make every hair
on my body stand straight up. I’ve got to pee quite badly too, but don’t
feel like I can move until I’ve finished telling this story and am done with it, until I push
that thing out of my head. A small part of me is afraid that by talking
about it tonight, I have somehow summoned it and that it will be waiting for me in the
hallway when I go to empty my bladder. All terrible and white and staring. I don’t know what I saw. It was tall – to a ten year old, anyway – and
ghastly thin. It seemed to shine in the thick darkness of
my room, it was so pale. It’s skin seemed whiter and thinner than paper,
its skull a round, hairless dome. It was naked, I think, I could make out the
sharp ridges and curves of its hips. Its fingers, which hung limply at the end
of flat, large hands like giant white spiders, seemed unusually long and alien to me. Whether or not it had a mouth or even a nose,
I could not say; the darkness was too deep and the thing too white to make such distinctions. The worst part was its eyes. I could see those. Or maybe it had no eyes. Maybe those round, black holes in its face
were empty sockets, or maybe its brow was so heavy it hid them entirely in shadow. Whether they were there or not, I knew those
eyes were looking at me. I froze. A scream rose up in me, but I stifled it into
a nearly inaudible sob. I did not move. Could not move. The thing saw me, I knew, but perhaps it didn’t
realize that I saw it. Maybe if I just kept pretending to be asleep,
it would leave me alone. I dared not close my eyes, though. I couldn’t let the thing out of my sight for
a moment, lest it attempt to creep closer. We stared at each other for what felt like
an eternity, but in reality was probably no more than a minute or two. Neither of us moving, neither of us making
a sound. Both of us just staring. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was
gone. It did not acknowledge me, did not attack
me, did not make a sound except for the odd popping of its joints and the creaking of
the floorboards under its feet as it strode down the hall to the kitchen. It was gone. But still, I could not move. The thing was still out there somewhere, and
it was even more terrible out of sight than it was standing in front of me. At least when I could see it, I knew where
it was and what it was up to. Now? My mind swam with horrific possibilities of
what this thing might be capable of, of what kind of terrible appetites it must possess. I lay there in the dark for over an hour,
fretting over this strange creature and listening to the dark, sleeping house for any sign that
it was still around. But nothing came. Steeling my nerves, I took and deep breath
and prepared to do the bravest thing I’d done in all my ten years- I prepared to run to
my mother. I slowly slipped out of bed, expecting the
moment my feet hit the floor for the thing to snatch them. But it didn’t. I stepped carefully and quietly to my bedroom
door, expecting that the moment I peeked my head out, it would be there. But it wasn’t. I looked left. I looked right. I looked left again. And then, in a burst of speed I didn’t know
I was capable of, bolted down to my mother’s room. My sudden and explosive entry was enough to
make her stir. “Drew?” she said blearily while clicking on
her bedside lamp. “Is that you? What’s wrong?” “Mom, there’s something in the house. I saw something looking at me, it was standing
in my bedroom doorway and it was looking at me and I think it kinda looked like the kid
from Powder. Like, a bald albino or something.” I was so relieved to be with her and telling
her what I had seen that I didn’t notice the look of shock wash over her face until she
grabbed me and pulled me close to her. She was wide awake now. And she looked terrified. “What did you say? Someone was standing in your doorway looking
at you?” I nodded. She turned and looked over her shoulder and
that’s when I realized for the first time that she wasn’t alone. My brother, Trent, was asleep in bed beside
her. My mother leapt out of bed and rushed to her
closet, where she kept her handgun. My mother hated that thing, but she insisted
on having one; a single mother with only a ten and a six year old needed to protect herself. “Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” I was starting to get scared again. She snatched the cordless phone off its cradle
and called my grandfather, who lived about two miles away. “Daddy?” she whispered into receiver. “I need you to stay on the phone with me,
if something happens, call the police. About an hour ago, Trent came and got in bed
with me, said he couldn’t sleep because somebody was standing in his bedroom doorway watching
him. And now Drew just came and told me the same
thing. I think somebody’s in the house.” I had never heard my mother so frightened. “Maybe it’s Tommy, maybe it’s somebody else. If it’s Tommy, I’m getting a restraining order. Apparently divorce wasn’t enough.” “Mom, it’s not Dad,” I said. “It can’t be…it was too thin. Dad’s got a big belly.” “Shh, sweetie. Shh. Okay, Daddy, I’m walking through the house
right now. Yes, I have my gun. Drew, follow me. If anything happens, run back here and lock
the door and do not open it until Grandaddy or the police get here. Okay?” I nodded solemnly. My mother began to move down the hall, turning
on light after light as she did so, checking every room, every closet. Within a couple of minutes, the whole house
had been searched. Only one room left. The kitchen. My mother entered the room and flipped on
the light, seeming to fully expect my father or some deranged killer to be standing there. But no. The kitchen was empty too. We were alone. We were safe. With a sigh of relief, my mother said goodbye
to my grandfather and put the phone down on the kitchen counter. “Nobody here,” she said, “You must have had
a dream, that’s all.” “No, Ma. I know when I’m dreaming. This wasn’t a dream. And Trent saw it too.” “Did you both watch that Powder movie recently
or somethi-” “MOM!” I shouted. She jumped, startled. “What? What is it?” I pointed. The kitchen door, which led out into the backyard
and the thick, old woods beyond it, stood slightly ajar. I still don’t know what I saw that night. I have thought about it and discussed it with
my brother and my mother. In recent years, I even questioned my father
about it. He wasn’t doing too well for a couple of years
following the divorce, was doing some weird and creepy things. But no, he hadn’t been there that night. And, honestly, I never thought he had. Still, I had to ask. Because the alternatives are too frightening
to consider. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what that thing
was. Maybe that’s for the best. What I do know is, I haven’t slept with my
bedroom door open since that night. If for some reason I forget to shut it all
the way before I climb in bed, I will not be able to sleep until I go and close it tight. Because now, in every dark doorway, I see
that ghastly white face. I see those terrible, dark eyes. Staring at me. 3. I’ve related parts of this story to friends,
family, acquaintances and even once to a girl I met online (that was a mistake). I think I do it in hopes that someone will
rationalize it for me. But I didn’t know this place existed, and
I was shocked to see how so many people have suffered similar experiences. So I hope that someone here might be able
to shed some light on what had actually happened to me. It started when I moved out of my mom’s
place and into my current apartment. I had gotten a great job and over the course
of a year managed to pay off most of my student loans. Around this time, my mom started dropping
hints about ‘birds leaving the nest’ and there ‘not being enough space’, so I packed
my things and left. I left in November. I remember because it was uncharacteristically
cold for a city on the coast. The apartment was old, and so the thermostat
was one of those plain rectangular boxes with an analogue lever underneath with no numbers
to indicate temperature. You just move it left or right until you find
your comfort level. My lease agreement stated that the landlord
would pay for heating so I decided to go to town on it and set it almost all the way to
the right. I could hear the floor-heaters light up with
this clicking sound that sounded like fingernails tapping on a lead pipe. The apartment came completely unfurnished
expect for a full-body mirror which was placed on the outside of my bedroom door. It wasn’t a permanent fixture, held up only
by a screw near the top so that when I closed it too quickly the whole thing would swing
off the door and slap it as it shut. I wanted to take it down except that the door,
which was the same cream colour as the walls, had been painted around the mirror. This meant that if I removed it, there would
be a brown rectangle of unpainted wood in the middle, so I left it up. Being a bit of a scrawny weakling, my extended
family helped me set up my bedframe and mattress before leaving me to unpack. By the end of the night I had some of the
furniture set up and emptied some boxes onto a shelf and not much else. I found the apartment to be quite warm so
I turned down the thermostat, closed the bedroom door and went to sleep. When I awoke the next morning the apartment
was startlingly cold. There was frost on the ground outside my window
so I did not think anything was amiss until I got out of bed. I stopped and stared out into the hallway
through an open doorway. In hindsight, I can tell you, that I closed
that door the night before. Even then I knew that I had closed it, but
I didn’t want to believe what I was looking at. I rationalized it and checked to make sure
that the latch was firm and that the door could not slowly slide open in the night. I made up my mind that I must not have closed
it all the way so that the latch may not have clicked into the bevel in the doorframe and
it must have popped open. I brushed it off and went to the thermostat
and turned it back up to where it was the night before and I heard that familiar clicking
of the heaters coming on. As it was a Saturday (and therefore no work),
I spent most of the day opening boxes and squaring away all the furniture. By night, I had most of the apartment set
up. I took pictures and sent them out to my friends
and family, making very sure not to include the gaudy mirror on the door in any of them. When I went to sleep that night, I closed
the door tightly. I heard the click of the handle, and I made
sure it would not open. The apartment was a little too warm as it
had been the night before, but after the chilling morning I had just had, I decided to leave
it turned up to where it was. I fell asleep that night facing the door. I won’t embellish this next part. When I awoke, my bedroom was ice cold—and
the mirror was now on the inside of my door. I can still recall my fear-stricken face reflected
in that mirror vividly. I didn’t even change in there. I grabbed my clothes from the box (I had not
put them away yet) and got changed in the living room. I didn’t even move the mirror back. I just left it on the door inside the room. The whole day I avoided the bedroom, but it
was hard not to notice the big, unpainted brown spot on the bedroom door where the mirror
used to be. I very seriously thought about calling my
mom and making up some excuse to spend the night over there, but I fought down the urge. I didn’t want to make it seem like I wanted
to move home after only two nights on my own. I even tried to get my girlfriend-at-the-time
to come spend the night with me, making very sure not to mention any of this to her. She respectfully declined with an excuse I
can’t remember now. I left the apartment frequently that day for
different things—usually shopping for little things I forgot to bring like soap, and paper
towels—but I couldn’t stay away because I didn’t have a vehicle and I didn’t want
to carry shopping bags everywhere I went so I had to drop them off. Even from outside I could see the bedroom
window and it would give me shivers. I kept worrying that every time I walked by
the window I would see a face or a monster leering out from behind the drawn curtain. I was dreading night. And by the time it was dark I had run out
of reasons to leave the apartment. I spent my time in the living room—as far
away from the bedroom as I could get without leaving altogether. I unpacked my things half-heartedly wondering
if I should be doing the opposite. I decided to sleep on the couch in the living
room not far from where I was sitting. But I still had to pass by the door to get
to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The thermostat, also, was right outside the
door to the bedroom, so I resolved to get both things done at once. I don’t think I have ever brushed so hard
and so fast in my life. I could have easily just grabbed my brush
and washed in the kitchen sink, but I still didn’t want to admit to myself how scared
I was. I pushed the lever to the thermostat all the
way to the right and returned to the living room, forcing myself to take slow, even steps,
and took courage from the lack of incident. As I was preparing to turn out the light and
go to sleep, I began to wonder if I wasn’t just going crazy. I wanted to believe in what I had thought
the day before—that there was a rational explanation for it. I wanted to think that maybe I had moved the
mirror myself while sleepwalking. Moreover, I had just spent much of the past
three days unpacking. I wasn’t thinking that I would have to move. I knew that I would have to face this at some
point. So I got up and turned on every single light
in the house. I steeled myself at the bedroom door. I remember looking at the hole where the screw
had been which had held the mirror when I first moved in. I opened the door and immediately hit the
light switch inside. The room lit up cheerfully—everything right
where I had left it. Even the mirror. I chose not to go into the room, fearing that
the door would somehow slam shut behind me so I closed the door—leaving the light on
inside. As I turned to walk back to the couch, I heard
the latch click open. My immediate reaction was one of pure dread,
but even in that moment I figured that I had not pushed the door entirely closed. I turned around—and the door was open—the
light was off. I still remember how my body seized. I was completely unable to move, but I could
feel every hair on my body standing on end. The door was open at a fourty-five degree
angle so that I could see perfectly into the room through the reflection in the mirror. Standing next to my bed, silhouetted against
the streetlight coming in through the window, something bulky and rounded stared out at
me. The edges were blurred and it had no eyes
but I could feel it staring at me. At that moment, even in my paralyzed state,
I could hear the clicking of the heater turning on. The shape moved out of sight of the reflection
of the mirror and I heard it whisper in my ear like it was standing right behind me. “Shhh”. I slammed the door so hard the whole wall
shook. I still live in that apartment, but I don’t
go into the bedroom anymore. The door hasn’t opened since. 2. So that’s not entirely true. But I’m somewhere that looks like my bedroom,
except there are some things that are different. For example my closet is filled in with concrete. My windows have lights behind them to make
the effect of day and night and the door is always locked until this person lets me out. For some reason he has left me a fully charged
laptop with superfast internet. I tried downloading a deaf dialer to call
the cops but the website was blocked, same with skype, facetime, messages any website
I could use to contact people except for reddit. Let’s move along with this story. He’s going to give me my next assignment soon. So 10 days ago I got a text from my girlfriend,
she wanted me to come to our spot because she had a surprise for me. Sweet, but when I got there she was no where
to be found. I texted her to see where she was and she
said she had no idea what I was talking about. Figuring it was just a friend spoof texting
I got back in my car. That’s where everything went black. I hit my head or someone hit me over the head. And I woke up and I was in my bedroom. I tried leaving but I couldn’t and there was
a notebook on my nightstand with these words written in it “WELCOME HOME”. I tried breaking the windows but all I got
was concrete and lights. I was completely trapped somewhere. A voice came over the loud speaker, it sounded
like Roger L. Jackson (the voice from the scream movies) welcome James, here is your
first assignment. And that’s where the laptop which I hadn’t
noticed buzzed. It said 1 new notification. I’ll try and attach a screen shot. Thankfully it’s a Mac and I might be able
to hack it’s Admin password. It looks like he’s messed up the UI a bit. My first assignment was to hang up my clothes
and make my bed like a good boy. There was a text box so I wrote “How. The closet is caved in”. With that I heard a rumble and looking at
the closet the concrete slowly moved down in the floor. How much money has this guy spent. So I did what it said. And I got a congratulations music track and
I got my next assignment. “Exit the room and go to the living room”. I closed the laptop lid and the door buzzed
open. I made my way out to a dark, cold, concrete
hallway. More doors. None that I could recognize. And I felt like I was walking down a tarmac. I entered the room in which the door was lit
up and the words Enter Here were lit. I pushed open the vault like door and inside
was my living room The couches, the tables, the TV, the chairs, even the piano. The TV buzzed to life “Sit down and play a
song”. I sat down at the piano and started playing,
at the same time the TV buzzed “Good boy, I’m proud of you”. Now I really want to know who this is, he
is treating me like his property. This is sick. The TV buzzed again. New Assignment. I stopped playing and read, it made me sick
“Strip down to your underwear”. I replied NO. And the TV buzzed again “Do it or regret it”. “I SAID NO”. With that the highest siren you could ever
hear was buzzing. I couldn’t take this. I ran back to my room. There was a box of items on the bed. Stuff he/she had to have taken from my house
after I was abducted. My noise cancelling headphones were in there. I put them in and they barely drowned out
the alarm. It hasn’t stopped blaring for 8 days. I’ve been trying to ignore it. But I can’t sleep. I have no plan of escape he’s trapped me inside
my room. The siren does stop for 10 minutes at 8PM. I’m not sure why though. Finally Day 10 and the siren stopped. The voice came over the speaker “You’ve learnt
your lesson, new assignment”. I went over to the computer and with the nice
startup sound I was taken to the desktop. I clicked open the new assignment and I got
this message. “Please proceed to Lily’s room and receive
your surprise”. Oh shit, Lily is my girlfriend. I’m afraid on what I’m going to find in there. I’m about to go there now. Please someone call the police. I need to get out of here. There are 3 things I need to do 1. Find out if my girlfriend is here 2. Figure out what the 10 minute silence was
3. Get out of here. Before we get to number 1, if you’ve ever
been curious as to what I look like in real life, then follow me on Instagram @dylan_is_chillin_yt,
with underscores instead of spaces. I also have Twitter @YT_Chills where I post
video updates. I’d really appreciate it if you followed me
and feel free to send me a DM if you have a questions or suggestions. If you’d like to see more of these videos
in the future, then hit that subscribe button because I upload a new scary video every Thursday. 1.It’s been almost 15 years ago since my family
moved out of the creepy old house that nurtured my nyctophobia which still persists to this
day. I have a panic attack if it’s dark enough
that I can’t see in front of me, and I cannot go to sleep in a room that’s dark enough that
I cannot see all 4 walls, so today I always sleep with my TV on. But as a 7 year old I didn’t have the privilege
of a TV set in my bedroom. My family was struggling (mostly due to my
mom’s now ex-husband’s tendency to spend each paycheck to support his drug addiction, but
that’s a whole different story) and they’d gotten a pretty good deal on a crappy house
in the poorer section of town due to being friends with the landlady. My bedroom was at the end of the hall with
a single window facing the back yard, and a tiny closet across from it that seemed to
creak open on its own overnight as the house settled. There was no central air, so I had to rely
on a window unit to keep cool during the night. For anyone who’s had to deal with window units
you’ll understand how easily the cool air in one room can seep out to the rest of the
house, rendering it completely ineffective if you leave your door open. But my parents were dicks and refused to buy
a night light–“You’re nearly 8 years old, you don’t need to use a nightlight anymore”–so
I would either have to shut my bedroom door so my room would stay cool enough that I could
sleep, or I’d have to keep my door cracked open so the light from the hallway would ease
my mind enough that I could sleep. In any other house I may have been able to
shut my door, hide my head beneath my blanket and learn to sleep in the dark. But I wasn’t in any other house, I was in
812 Havemeyer in Park South…a house so crap that nobody had been willing to live there
for 20 years, in a neighborhood so crap it got demolished just a few years after we left. We lived there for less than a year, but it
was the most memorable year of my entire childhood because of how terrified I was each night
to go to sleep. I remember the first night sleeping in that
room, door closed, blankets pulled up as the AC blasted, when the creaking of my ceiling
fan suddenly got louder just as I was about to fall asleep. I opened my eyes and there, hanging in the
middle of the room was a little girl in a plain woolen nightgown, long dark hair obscuring
her face. I screamed and flung the sheets up over my
head. My step-dad banged my door open a minute later
and flipped the light on. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he came up
beside my bed and pulled the sheets off my head. My eyes went to the middle of the room immediately,
and I pointed. “There was a girl hanging from the ceiling
fan.” Step-dad turned and looked, “There’s nothing
there. You had a nightmare, go back to sleep.” And just like that he walked out, flipped
off the switch, and shut the door. When my night vision came back in the girl
was there once more, swinging back and forth, as if she’d been there all along, hidden only
by the light. I pulled the blankets back over my head and
laid there shivering all night, too afraid to call out for my parents again because I
knew my step-dad would get angry and yell at me. The next night I slept with the door open,
so that the light from my parents room would light up the hallway and seep into my room,
and the hanging girl wouldn’t appear. It worked long enough for me to fall asleep,
but when I woke up an hour before daybreak needing to pee, all the lights in the house
were off and the girl was there once more, swinging slowly back and forth. I held it in, lying in bed squirming and waiting
for the sun to rise, and when she finally faded as the light seeped into my room I bolted
to the bathroom and pissed like a fire hose. That became routine the next couple weeks,
until one morning I woke having to pee earlier than usual and I couldn’t quite hold it long
enough. I knew I was about to piss myself, and I’d
have to make a run for it, so I steeled myself, edged out of the bed, then bolted across the
room when suddenly the girl reached out and lunged for me, hair flinging back off her
head, white, glazed eyes staring at me with grim intensity. With greater dexterity than I thought myself
capable I spun on the spot and lunged back into my bed, slinging my blankets up over
my head and hiding until sunlight. Needless to say, I caught hell for wetting
the bed. After that I absolutely refused to sleep in
that bed. My step-dad yelled and screamed and threatened
to beat my ass but I absolutely refused to go into that room after dark, and spent the
rest of our stay at that house sleeping on the living room couch. After we’d moved I was able to convince myself
that it had all been a recurring dream or a delusion or something…and despite my lingering
fear of the dark, I’d essentially forgotten about the house entirely until the day before
yesterday. I had taken my mother grocery shopping when
we bumped into our old land lady and my mother had to stop and chat. Naturally, assuming I didn’t remember her
my mom mentioned the house we lived in when I was 7 and wouldn’t sleep in my bed, and
I mentioned why. As soon as I mentioned the hanging girl the
former landlady’s face became grave. “There actually was a young girl found hanging
in that house in the 80’s,” she said. She wouldn’t elaborate, and my mom moved the
conversation to lighter topics, but when I got home and was able to hop online I looked
up old news regarding the house/neighborhood and found the article. It was a young girl named Deborah Gibbs. As the story goes, she had been complaining
of a monster in her closet watching her as she tried to sleep every night, and she would
scream and scream every time she saw it until her parents would come in and bring her into
their room. Allegedly the dad got sick of it and to teach
her to face her fears left her in her room one night when she screamed out. They found her hanging the next morning. The father was charged with her murder, but
I can’t help but wonder… Thanks for checking out this video. Be sure to subscribe because I upload a new
scary video every Thursday. Or if you’re still not convinced, here are
some of my other videos that I think you’d like. Enjoy!


  1. Adding me on social media is greatly appreciated 🙂
    Twitter: http://bit.ly/ChillsTwitter
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  2. #2 sounds exactly like the point in Pretty Little Liars where the girls all get abducted & put into duplicate rooms like their own but the windows are cement, yadayada, then they keep playing pg-13 saw-like games to "hurt" each other. There's also an alarm on that one that trips when the power resets once a night for ten minutes.

  3. is it me or the #2 one sound like the underground bunker off of PLL [ Pretty Little Lairs}, like the way the room is, and the way the door lit up and, the siren went off when he didn't obey?!?!?. like when the girls got kidnapped by A,

  4. Chills man I don't know what it is I can listen to any other guy reading scary stories like these and am fine but with your mono-toned voice reading these freaks me out lol

  5. I have a neat little story related to the topic.
    So this was last night, I was watching some Hulu and I started to fall asleep. Then out of nowhere, I woke up feeling the bed was shaking, and to my surprise it was. Though I was half asleep, I couldn't tell if either I was shaking without noticing or something paranormal was happening. I sat up and turned my lamp on, then the shaking stopped. I got up to look around, outside of my room and under my bed.

  6. Why would you walk through your house with your kids when there’s a fuckin monster in there, just stay in the room and call the po po, I’m talking about number 4c

  7. I dont have a bedroom, but I have a scary story. By the time I go to sleep, which is like 1am, there is always a feeling that someone is watching me from the room. The master bedroom is a the very right side of the house and that is where I sleep. I sleep close to the living room but not in the room. One day when i was lying down I had a strange feeling like someone was in the room with me. When I get scared i freeze in fear, but this day I walked to the living room to see if the force will follow me. It didnt, or so I thought. When I was calming down did something but after I did it my little sisters face looked like she was aging in front of me. At that moment the force was behind me. I sat still for a whole hour till I had guts to go tell my dad. My dad said he also felt something wrong a while back when my other sister fed our dogs. He said that he felt someone outside at that moment my sister came in the house all scared. We live in the country so our neighbors are two houses away from each other. Till this day I still have no idea what that was and I probably dont want to.

  8. hey i have a story for you here it is i and Lilly were 5 and 3 and my mother had hired a baby sitter because she had a job at night and would not come home until 9 a m so me and my sister had to be with the baby sitter until that time and the time that my mother left for her job 4 p m so right now it is 9 p m so mom was already gone and i and my sister went to bed but at 11 p m i had the bright idea to get out of bed but what ever the babysitter did'int care so what ever right and just barely fell asleep wen i herd the baby sitter on the phone telling my mom that she did not like the clown replica i swiftly sprung to my feet now wide awake i said what clown replica and she said shush and mom she also asked what clown replica my baby sitter did not scream like most would but her face i'll will never can get her face out of my head she swiftly got phone and call'd 911 and every one out side but by the time got the'r twenty minutes had past then after they check't they said the'r was no one in the house and no sine of breaking or entering and no clown

  9. Wasn't this channel the one named Dolan Dark? Now it's another one and when I tried to check for info @ google it made no sense. Is this the same guy? Wtf is going on I'm super confused, someone please fill me in on what's happening!

  10. Any animated spiritual beings that are made up will sure gets what he/she ask for…. Do not be an, impostor. by; God Ken(n)

  11. Number 4 is the only scary story that has affected me ever. This is a completely new emotion for me

  12. These all sound like movies 😂

    #5: Urban Legend
    #4: Son of Slender Man
    #3: Occulus 2
    #2: Saw 9: Ghostface
    #1: The Sixth Sense

  13. Got to say chills is like the creepiest YouTube channel and my favorite YouTube channel one more his voice make the videos more creepy

  14. 13:50 she said blearaly a- she said blearaly a- she said blearaly a-

    Do you ever have a dream you wish you could-you would-you have you you woukd

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