I bought a new house in the small town of Winthrop. The house was cheap, but the most
important part was that I needed to get away from the city. A few months ago, I had a run-in with
a stalker. While I had managed to get him arrested, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes just
constantly watching me. I felt like there were eyes everywhere, at home and on the street, so I
decided to move out into the country to somewhere with less people, just for peace of mind.The
house itself was big and somewhat old, but otherwise very welcoming. The agent who
introduced me to the house had been required to mention that a serial killer had lived here in
the past, which was why the house was so cheap. However, he, and later, my next door neighbor
Sarah, both told me to pay the thought no mind. Four other owners had lived in the house since
then, and all of them were very happy with it.I loved the house. Its interior furnishings were
beautiful and very comfortable. The people of Winthrop were friendly, often bringing over
freshly baked pastries or inviting me over for dinner. "Get-togethers," they said, "were the key to
making sure everyone who lived in Winthrop loved it there."Yet after a week, I stopped "loving
it." The feeling of someone watching returned, worse than before. I tried to ignore it, but soon I
started losing sleep. Giant bags grew under my eyes and I began yawning almost as much as I
breathed. Sarah was kind enough to let me stay in her house for a few nights.It was during this
time that I heard the legend of Forrest Carter, the serial killer who had lived in my house. While
no one knows his exact kill count, Carter, also known as the Winthrop Peacock, was a man with
extremely severe case of narcissism. Legends say that he couldn't fall asleep if he didn't feel like
he was being watched. He was finally arrested for putting up a scarecrow to watch him during
the night. Only it wasn't a scarecrow. Carter had murdered a 17 year old girl, just so her corpse
could stare at him.The story gave me shivers, and after I went home, I felt like there were
hundreds of pairs of eyes just watching me no matter how I turned.Today, however, was the first
day that I acted out. I was cooking breakfast, when I felt the eyes. Instinctively, out of fear, I
threw my kitchen knife, which lodged itself into the wall. As I pulled it out, I found myself staring
at a pair of eyes, pickling in formaldehyde.I've been watching the police peel away the drywall of
my house for hours now. So far, they've found 142 pairs of eyes in little glass jars. The scariest
thing is, each and every one was staring at me.
YOU ARE READING
50 Short Scary Stories
Short StoryEvery one has a story. Some are blessed enough to say they've never encountered a break-in or a ghost; but some people aren't. Are you ready to read the stories of the less fortunate? Who have experienced a dangerous situation in which could of cost...