True Scary Stories

The Scariest Story Ever Told

Long:)

At the end of a quiet road, behind a veil of twisted black oak trees, there was a house. A woman lived there. On bitter nights like this one, she sat by the fire and read until she grew tired enough for sleep. But on this night, as her lids grew heavy, she was startled by a sound. A sound she wasn’t accustomed to hearing these days. Who could be calling, she wondered? And this late? She rose from her chair and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“I’m going to kill you,”  a man with a deep voice said.

“Who is this?” she asked.

No answer.

“Who is this?” she repeated, her hand trembling.

There was a click. Silence. She quickly dialled the police and explained what had happened. The officer told her to wait while he traced the call. After a few moments he said, “The call is coming from . . . inside your house.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “How could someone be inside my house?”

“He probably broke in,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“And that’s not everything,” he said. “I’m not a police officer.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, I’m the killer guy from before. I never actually hung up.”

“But I heard a click.”

The man made a clicking sound with his mouth. “Like that?” he said.

“Wow, that’s really good.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are you really inside my house?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Where?”

The man’s breathing grew heavier. “I like your hair,” he said.

“Wait, you can see me?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you like my hair?”

“It’s really nice.”

“If you can see me, then what am I wearing?”

“Looks like a blouse from Banana and a skirt from . . . Anne Taylor Loft?”

“Wow, you really can see me.”

“I can also see—wait, what the hell is that?”

“What?”

“There’s a person, a ghost hovering near you.”

“It’s sort of hard to trust you after the click thing.”

“No I’m serious, over by the couch.”

The woman turned and gasped, “Oh my god, I see it! I knew this place was haunted.”

“Jesus Christ. Is it a kid? Eww, he’s all translucent.”

“Looks like a little boy.”

“What does he want??”

“I think he wants to play. He’s holding a kite.”

The ghost boy floated closer and spoke: “Play with meeeeee.”

“Oh my God, he can talk!” the man said.

“Play with meeeeee,” the ghost boy repeated.

“Um, no thank you!” the man said.