8 SCARY Ghost Stories (Don’t Watch Alone…) | SPINE CHILLING STORIES

Hi, I’m Faith. This is the story of the Disembodied Voice. Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] It was a hot spring night in Florida. Chrissy had just gone home from school and settled down to do her homework in her old wooden house.

It had been in the family for over 100 years. And it creaked and groaned as the winds blew. To Chrissy, they were the familiar sounds of a house full of love, one that never used to be silent. She fondly remembered her grandmother cooking, bashing pots and pans in the kitchen. [woman humming]

She’d yell, Chrissy Loo– the nickname she’d given her when dinner was ready. But the house was quiet after school now. Chrissy settled in her room and began her homework waiting for her mom to get back home. Her dog sat beside her. Chrissy had just finished her first math problem

When she heard the door slam downstairs. Mom must be home early. Chrissy called down to her, “mom.” There was no response. Probably just the wind, she thought. She shrugged it off and continued her homework. [dog whimpering] An hour past. She almost finished her first assignment

When she faintly heard the sounds of pots and pans clanging downstairs. She hadn’t heard mom come in the door. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. A voice called from downstairs. “One second,” Chrissy responded, finishing up her final math problem. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. The voice called again. Chrissy closed books and walk downstairs,

Calling her dog to follow. But he wouldn’t budge. She shrugged it off and walked downstairs and into the kitchen. No one was there. But what she saw sent a chill down her spine. Every pot and pan in the house had been stacked neatly in the middle of the room.

Cabinets lay open and empty. [door creaking] The side door flew open beside her. In the doorway stood Chrissy’s mom, groceries in hand. But if she was only just getting home, who laid out the pots and pans? [door creaking] Mom looked around at the scattered pots and pans, confused.

“You helping me cook tonight, Chrissy Loo?” “I didn’t do this,” replied Chrissy, as she and her mom looked around the kitchen. “Then who did,” asked her mom. (DISEMBODIED VOICE) Chrissy Loo. Dinner is ready. Chrissy Loo. [sudden haunting music] I’m Faith. And this is the story of The Woman in the Well.

Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] Each year, Rachel’s mother would drop her off at her grandma’s house for their yearly visit. Grandma lived down a long dirt road, miles from neighbors tucked away in a beautiful forest. At night, Rachel would take grandma’s dog Harry

For a long walk in the woods. As she clips on Harry’s leash and stepped outside to begin their walk, Rachel’s phone buzzed. It surprised her. She didn’t usually have service so far away from town. An unknown number had sent her a text. “Come to the well,” it read.

She tried to respond and ask who it was, but her message wouldn’t go through. She shrugged it off. It was probably a wrong number anyway. Harry pulled along the dirt road, picking up a scent. She let him to lead her as she looked up at the beautiful moon through the trees.

Suddenly, Harry stopped. [dog growling] He began growling at what was in front of him. Looking around, Rachel realized she was in unfamiliar territory. She’d never walk this way before. She strained her eyes to see what Harry was barking at up ahead. There stood a large stone well in the middle of the pathway.

She’d never seen it before. [dog growling] Curious, she crept toward the wall with her cell phone flashlight and peered down to the bottom. But the well had dried up. All she could see was a bit of wet dirt and darkness. “Hello,” she called down playfully,

Listening to the echo bouncing back at her in the blackness. [cell phone buzzing] Her cell phone buzzed again. It was another text, but this time it was a picture– of her. She jumped back in shock, tripping over a tree root, her phone flying in the air and shattering down beside her.

She and Harry ran back toward the house. Her grandma tried to calm her. The well was old and dried up, she explained. In fact, it was odd she stumbled across it tonight. Contractors were coming tomorrow to cement it over. Rachel tried to show her grandma the picture she’d been sent,

But it had disappeared. Her grandma made her some tea and Rachel fell asleep on the couch. Early in the morning, she was awoken by the sound of a cement truck backing up and her cell phone ringing incessantly. [cell phone buzzing] Half asleep, Rachel picked up her shattered phone

And held it to her ear. “Hello,” she answered. (GHOSTLY) “Come to the well.” Said a voice on the other line. (GHOSTLY) They’re burying me.” Rachel leapt up and ran as fast as she could, but she was too late. The cement truck was driving away, and a pile of gravel

Lay where the well had been. Hurriedly, she picked up her phone and dialed back the number. [cell phone ringing] It rang. Then she heard a ringing on the other line. [cell phone ringing] The ringtone emanated from the ground deep, deep below her, buried in the darkness. [cell phones ringing] Until the ringing stopped.

(GHOSTLY) “Hello?” I’m Faith. And this is the story of the Maid in Suite 23. Don’t turn out the lights. [music playing] Zach and his mother could barely see the road ahead as they drove home from their family holiday. They couldn’t see more than a foot in front of their car

As the snow fell down like sheets on the window shield. Tired and scared, they breathed a sigh of relief when they saw a sign up ahead for a place to wait out the storm– the Inn at Mudford. They’d spend the night and finish the drive in the morning when the storm had passed.

The old inn smelled like moist wood and mothballs and felt eerily empty. They were greeted by an old innkeeper. He informed them excitedly that they were his only guests. And so he’d give them his favorite suite to stay in. He led them to suite 23. He showed them the first room– it

Was large and luxurious with a king bed and large windows. Then he showed them down the hall to the second room, where Zach would stay. It was smaller with a twin bed. “Back when people used to travel with stuff,” the innkeeper explained. This is where the maid would sleep.

Once he was done with his tour, the innkeeper bid them good night and left the room. Zach got ready for bed. That night, Zach was awoken by a faint knock on the door. [knocking on door] “Turn-down service,” a voice faintly called from beyond the closed door. “No, thank you,” responded Zach.

But then he heard the knock a second time. [knocking on door] Zach stood up, frustrated. What kind of maid visited in the middle of the night. He opened the door. [door creaking] But no one was there. Perhaps he was dreaming, he thought. He closed the door, locked it, and got back into bed.

[bed creaking] But something strange happened to Zach as he slept. When he awoke, all his clothes were neatly folded and put away. His bed was made around him and his hair was carefully combed. He gathered his things and went to the front desk. [pen scratching paper]

Mom was already in the middle of checking out, clearly losing patience with the old innkeeper as he filled out his paperwork by hand. She went to get the car as Zach waited with the bags. The innkeeper silently stood behind the desk, watching Zach as he stared out the window.

The innkeeper thanked Zach for his day. “It can get quiet around here with just me and the maid who died 200 years ago.” A chill went down his spine. Zach hurried his bags outside. The maid couldn’t be 200 years old– that was impossible. He googled the Inn at Mudford, trying to find answers.

Headline after headline popped up– “The Maid Who Haunts the Mudford Inn,” “Mudford Inn– The Most Haunted Inn.” Suddenly, Zach knew who knocked on his door. He knew who kept the innkeeper company, and he knew who tidied up his room in the middle of the night. [ghostly swoosh]

It was the maid in suite 23 who died 200 years ago. [music playing] This is the story of The Traveling Doll Maker. Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] [music playing] The story took place in a very small village a long, long time ago. Little William walked to school along

A familiar road when one day he passed something strange. In an open field that had long remained empty stood a traveling doll maker’s caravan. The caravan was breathtaking, displaying realistic, life-like, beautiful little boy and girl dolls arranged neatly in colorful rows. William stopped and stared at the dolls,

Mesmerized, when the doll maker stepped out from behind his dolls. “Do you like my creations,” asked the doll maker. “They’re beautiful,” responded William, unable to look away. “Will you make me one?” “No,” said the doll maker. “They’re far too valuable.” William pleaded and pleaded with the doll maker. He’d said he’d steal.

He’d sell all his possessions. He’d do anything if only the doll maker would just make him a beautiful doll. Finally, the doll maker responded, “all right, but each of these dolls is based off of someone I know. They’re my greatest joy. If I were to make one for you, you’d

Have to give me a gift that’s equally as valuable in return.” “Anything.” The doll maker smiled wide. “Bring me back the most valuable thing in your home and I’ll make you a doll.” “I don’t have anything of value, but my father might.” “I’ll make you a deal then,” said the doll maker.

“Tomorrow morning, bring me your father’s greatest joy and I’ll make you a doll.” They shook hands. That evening, William ran home after school. He searched his father’s office for the perfect thing to bring back to the doll maker. But he was scared his father might notice if something too valuable was missing.

So he looked for something he could fool the doll maker with. He found a golden painted rock on the bookshelf. His father would probably never notice it was missing, and the doll maker would never know it wasn’t his father’s greatest joy. Proud of himself for his clever trick,

William walked back to the doll maker in the morning. He handed him the rock with anticipation. “This is not your father’s most prized possession,” said the doll maker, throwing the rock to the ground. “I do not like liars. If you want me to make you a doll,

Come back with your father’s greatest joy.” That night while his father was at work, William searched high and low for the most expensive thing he could find. He opened the safe to find solid gold cufflinks. He surmised they must be worth a fortune. Surely, the doll maker would want these.

The next day, he returned to the doll maker with cufflinks in hand. “Is this what you believe to be your father’s greatest joy,” asked the doll maker. “Yes,” said William. The doll maker examined the cufflinks. “I still don’t believe you,” he said. “And now I’m growing angry. I leave in the morning.

This is your last chance. Tomorrow, you will bring me your father’s greatest joy, if you want me to make you a doll.” Growing desperate, William ran home with his cufflinks as the sun went down, hoping to find what the doll maker required. He burst into his father’s office

To find him home from work, toiling away at his desk. “Where were you, son,” asked his father smiling. “I was worried. Well, what’d I do if something happened to you?” A chill went down William’s spine when you realized what he’d just heard. You see, his father’s greatest joy was him.

And he couldn’t very well give himself to the doll maker. He resolved to go back to the shop in the morning and tell the doll maker the deal was off. The doll maker was packing up the shop as William approached. “I’m sorry,” said William, as he looked one last time

At the beautiful dolls. “I cannot give you my father’s greatest joy, after all, because my father’s greatest joy is me.” “Oh, but you can,” said the doll maker, his face turned hard as stone. “That’s how I make all my dolls.” William’s blood went cold when he looked at the dolls

Again, finally seen them clearly. Every doll had realistic, terrified eyes like children trapped, frozen, and scared. He tried to turn and run, but his body stiffened. It was too late. The doll maker had his new doll and William’s father lost his greatest joy. The caravan traveled down the road

To a new town, this time carrying William– just another doll on a shelf. [music playing] Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] Ever since Sarah was young, she always had a power she kept secret. Whatever she drew came true. Every day she played with her best friend, Elizabeth.

They’d play on magical creations that came straight from Sarah’s imagination. But as the girls got older, they grew apart. Sarah threw herself deeper into painting while Elizabeth played sports and started hanging out with her friend Jessica more often. However, the two still maintained a tradition

Of meeting up in front of school and walking home together– until one day. Sarah waited outside for Elizabeth– and Elizabeth never came. And then it happened again the next day. After days and days of Elizabeth not showing up, Sarah confronted her at school. “Why won’t you walk home with me,” she asked.

“I walk home with Jessica now. It’s no big deal. Sometimes things change.” Sarah cursed at Elizabeth and screamed hateful things. Heartbroken, she ran home. She grabbed an old drawing of the two of them and tore it in half. The next day at school when Sarah

Went to apologize to Elizabeth, Elizabeth didn’t recognize her. She simply looked at her with a blank stare. Later that day, she noticed Jessica whispering something in Elizabeth’s ear as though they were talking about her. She became enraged again. That night, she taped the drawing back together so Elizabeth would remember who she was.

But then, she made another drawing. Clearly, Jessica was poisoning Elizabeth’s mind, and she had to be stopped. Jessica didn’t come to school the next day. Elizabeth remembered Sarah again. And without Jessica in the picture, the two met up in front of the school and walked home together once again.

They hung out like old times in Sarah’s room. Sarah was ecstatic to have her old friend back. But when she went downstairs to get lemonade, Elizabeth discovered Sarah’s drawings. As she flipped through the drawings on Sarah’s desk, her life flashed before her. She saw drawings of their childhood,

Meeting up to walk home after school, a ripped photo taped back together. But it was when she saw the last drawing that her blood ran cold. She ran out of Sarah’s house and down the street to Jessica’s house where she sprinted upstairs. She walked into Jessica’s room. And there she saw her–

Jessica was lying in bed with no mouth. It was the last drawing she had seen on Sarah’s desk. When Sarah came back with lemonade for Elizabeth, she panicked. Her drawings were strewn about and Elizabeth was gone. She knew that Elizabeth would never forgive her. And she couldn’t live with the despair of knowing

That her best friend hated her. Then and there, she ripped up every drawing she’d made, erasing herself from Elizabeth’s memory for life and putting Jessica back to normal. She went to school the next day, a stranger to her best friend. And she never drew again.

This is the story of The Scratches in the Closet. Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] It was the dead of night. The house was quiet as Stacey lay asleep down the hall from her parents. Suddenly, she awoke to the sound of something in her closet. [doors rattling]

She mustered up all her courage and slinked out of bed and down the hall, breaking into a run to get to her parents’ room as quickly as she could. Groggy, her father followed her toward the closet to investigate the noise. The two of them slowly opened the closet door. [door creaking]

But nothing was there. Stacey slept peacefully the next few nights– until she was woken up again. This time, the sound was different. [scratching on wood] From behind the door, she heard a rhythmic scratching, like someone carving into wood. The door opened just slightly. And through the cracks she saw two, red, glowing eyes.

The scratching continued. Scared she’d be seen, she lay still, pretending to be asleep until the morning. When the sun was up, the noise was gone. She grabbed her dad to check the closet. On the inside of the door was lettering in a strange kind of language she couldn’t understand scratched into the wood.

Stacey’s dad was shaken. He installed security cameras all over the house. They locked up all the doors. They closed every window. Nothing would get in or out without them knowing. Stacy slept soundly that night– until she heard the scratching again. [scratching on wood] Unable to stay put, she bolted.

The family fled outside and called the police. The cops searched the whole house. Then they reached Stacy’s room. In the back of the closet they discovered a hole. It was scratched through the wall and led to nowhere. It was dark and cavernous and deep. Where did it lead? What beast had made it?

Would it come back? Stacey’s dad had the hole boarded up and covered with cement, ensuring that nothing would come in or out again. But Stacy never slept the same again. If the thing found its way in once, couldn’t it find its way in again? [eerie music] Hi, I’m Faith.

This is the story of The Principle. Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] As Gretchen sat with the other freshmen on their first day of high school, she could tell something about Middle Heights High was different. But what Gretchen noticed the most was how strangely well-behaved the students were.

They were smiling and polite and almost too calm. Compared to the upperclassmen, the freshmen were unkempt, loud, and even a bit rowdy. Principal Richards welcomed them. And after a speech about how excellence is expected of Middle Heights High, he led the student body in singing the fight song. (SINGING) Middle Heights High forever.

In unison we learn together. We’re all bound for life– secret, safe, and held so tight. Very quickly, Gretchen noticed that her classmates started to change. One by one, they began to adopt smiling, polite, eerily calm demeanor of the upperclassmen. The hallways got quieter students as walked silently from room to room.

Gretchen found herself appreciating the last few rambunctious and loud classmates she had left, like Chad Thomas. But that ended one day during first period when Chad made a joke during Mrs. Woodrow’s class, and she sent him straight to detention. When he came back, he wasn’t the same. Suddenly, he seemed like everyone else.

His hair, usually messy, was perfectly combed. His jacket was clean. He had on a rigid smile and his eyes were blank. Something was happening in detention that was making the students change. As the days went on, Gretchen struggled to fit in. While she worked diligently in Mrs. Woodrow’s class,

She felt her classmates staring at her, suspicious of how she didn’t fit in. As she felt their eyes on her, she got more and more nervous. And she dropped her pen on the floor. [MAGNIFIED SOUND OF PEN HITTING GROUND] Mrs. Woodrow immediately spun around with glee,

Maniacally smiling in a way Gretchen had never seen before. It was like she’d been waiting for Gretchen to mess up. “Detention,” she screamed. Terrified, Gretchen grabbed her things and walked out of class. But as Gretchen passed Chad’s desk, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t go,” he mouthed.

She walked into the hallway and slowly toward the exit, ready to book it when she got outside the school doors. Suddenly, Principal Richards appeared in the hallway, blocking her way out and motioning her toward the Detention Room. There was no getting out of it. “Welcome to detention,” Principal Richard

Said as he pressed Play on a TV at the front of the room. She stared at the door, trying to figure out if she can make a run for it, when she found her eyes being drawn toward the screen. There were flashing lights, beautiful music. And she watched the whole thing.

After that day, Gretchen fit in just fine. [music playing] Hi, I’m Faith. This is the story of The Wandering Woman. Don’t turn out the lights. [spooky gush of wind] [music playing] Brother and sister Mark and Jess walked down the street on their way home from school.

The two were so engrossed in talking about their day that they didn’t notice the old woman standing in the sidewalk up ahead, staring right at them. “Hello,” she said, startling them. “I don’t mean to alarm you,” she went on. “I’m simply looking for the library.

I need to return my book and I can’t seem to find where to go.” Something about the woman made the hair stand up on the back of their necks. She was quiet and small. She wasn’t scary, but something wasn’t right. “The library is back the way you came, just down the road,

Around the corner and to the right.” “Darn it,” she said, frustrated. She’d have to go back the way she came. As she got upset, Mark and Jess felt the air around them grow colder. Just offered to help. “We’re going that way. How about I bring your book to the library?”

The woman smiled wildly. “Thank you so much. That would help me a lot.” She handed just the book. It was hot to the touch. The woman thanked them and they parted ways. “Fee the book,” said Jess to Mark. “It’s burning up.” He turned around to see if the old woman was still there.

But somehow, she was already gone. They picked up their pace and headed toward the library, ready to return the book and get home. But when they rounded the corner, they saw it– where the library had been was a smoking pile of ash. Pieces of singed paper fell down around them. Mark caught one.

At the top of the page he read the title, Stranded. And then he read the title of the book, Stranded. [spooky gush of wind]