Creepy Halloween Stories/Videos

[Deadpool1986]

Janitor with bad intentions

So I'll start this out with a little context. I went to an all girls high school in downtown Toronto that was in very close proximity to many government buildings, some of the UofT buildings, and apartment buildings as well. Anyone who knows downtown Toronto knows how close these buildings could be, and that means that this story could've ended much worse than it did.

A little bit about me at the time of this incident, I was in the 11th grade and though I wasn't a bad student I didn't really make a priority of getting to school super early like some of my friends did. I remember that day, I had gotten off the subway about 10-15 minutes before school started and as soon as my cell regained service (for those who don't know you do not get cell reception on the subway for the most part) I had gotten a few text messages from a good friend of mine. The first was something along the lines of "the school smells really gross right now, like somebody farted or something but it's everywhere" which, for an all girls school, wasn't really that abnormal (sorry to all the guys' who think girls don't fart- we're actually really gross) but her next text was what made me panic a little bit. Her next text had said that the school had been evacuated, and that everybody arriving was being told to wait where we would normally go if the fire alarm had been pulled. Although I knew something was off, I didn't really put too much thought into it as I was in high school and this was possibly giving us a day off!

Sure enough, we wait around for a little bit outside. A lot of the older students have taken off already, and then we get the go ahead from the principal that there will be no school today and we all head home.

Cue to later that night as I'm sitting at home watching the news with my parents. I'm not really paying attention, and then I hear the name of my school. I immediately look up from my phone and I notice that both my parents are listening intently as well. Basically what happened was that early in the morning the janitor had come in to the school and cut the gas line (that would explain the fart like smell my friend was talking about) and he was waiting for the beginning of classes to basically set the school up in flames. It's still unclear to all of us whether he had just intended to blow the school up, or if he was trying to take down the buildings around us as well, but either way: NOT COOL!

So creepy arsonist janitor, let's not meet again!

EDIT: in my search of news articles to verify this incident did occur, I came across a terrifying statement from the Toronto Gas Company saying that with the amount of gas in the school, something as simple as flicking on a light switch could've set the school (and the neighbourhood) in flames shiver
Students and parents shocked as Toronto girls’ school custodian charged in explosion plot | Toronto Star

 

[Deadpool1986]

He was not a cop

This didn't happen to me, but to my mom about 4 years ago. I was about 12 and was at a 3 day long fieldtrip with my school and I had left Wednesday and would be back Friday. when I had come home my mom and brother told me this story.

My Mom, brother and sister were driving back from my brothers wrestling practice that was from 7pm to 8:30pm. It is about 30 minutes away from my house so it was not a long drive. About 10 minutes into the drive my mom had noticed that she was being followed by a grey car (I don't remember what the car was) and she had a earie feeling but pushed off, as it was a busy street and is wasn't really anything scary.

It had followed her until she got off the road and onto a more quiet street and the car was still follower her. At this point she was started to feel weird. But she hadn't said anything to not freak my little brother (who was 10 at the time) and my little sister who was 8. So she kept quiet and kept looking at the review mirror. it had followed them till she got onto our road, and out road didn't have any street lamps except for one that was at the end of our road.

So this means that our street was very dark. so she had pulled onto out driveway, and to my moms horror the car had stopped in front of our house. My mom was a very strong women, so she got out and told my brother and sister to stay in the car. A skinny white man had stepped out of the car and told my mom that he was a police and that he would need to take her to the station to ask her some questions about her "reckless driving".

My mom is a very safe driver and she never drinks or smokes. and she knows that she wasn't reckless driving. She told that he didn't recall any of that and would like to see proof that he was a cop, but he just kept persisting that she come with him. then he said, "Bring your children as well." at this moment she knew that this man was not a cop, because she never told him that she had any children. She kept refusing to go and told him to leave the man suddenly started to walk toward my mom.

She was startled at this sudden movement and was frozen in fear as he came closer. suddenly My front door opened to my house and my dad stepped out. The man froze in his tracks and squinted at my dad. My dad was a big guy, he was a wrestler and he boxed. The men made eye contact with my dad and started to walk back to his car. He then said to my mom, "I will let you off with a warning," and he got into his car and drove away. My mom quickly rushed my brother and sister into our house and locked the door. She started to hug them and cry. My dad then told them that he had had a strange gut feeling and felt like something made him go outside. My parents believed it was a guardian angel.

When she had told me this story, one thing that bothered me the most is that he had know she had kids and that we drive home from practice every day of the week. This could only mean that he was stalking us and had known our daily routine. but it doesn't end there, About 2 weeks later me and my brother are getting dropped of at our bus stop to go home, we are the only two kids that get off at our stop and the walk home is only a 3 minute walk. As we are about to get off the bus my brother freezes and grabs me by my shoulder and points out a window to a grey car and whispers in my ear, "that's the guy that followed us." I stared and got a chill down my spine.

A man was sitting in the van looking at our bus. I turned towards the bus driver and explained the situation. he then told us to go sit down in the seat right behind him and call the police. I did and explained to the dispatcher that a man was acting suspicious but as he wasn't doing anything they couldn't do anything. He then drove us directly to our house and dropped us off.

our dad was home and we came running to him and told him the man was back as we said this he told us that it was maybe just a coincidence but then looked up and his eyes grew wide. I turned around to see the car was slowly coming down our road. But as it came in view to my house the man looked at my dad and speed quickly away. he told us to go inside. From that day forward my dad picked us up and dropped us off to school everyday and my mom or dad never left us alone.

We never saw the car or man ever again. So creepy man who pretended to be a police officer and stalked us, lets not meet ever again.
He was not a cop • /r/LetsNotMeet

 

[Sam.I.Am]

Horror Webtoon : Ghost of Bongcheong-Dong

2011 미스테리 단편 - [ENG ver.] Bongcheon-Dong Ghost - HORANG (봉천동귀신 영문판)

Oh hell naw bruh

 

[Deadpool1986]

Tinder meetup gone wrong

Around March of 2014, I started talking to this girl on tinder. She seemed cool and fun, and after about a week of talking, she suggested we meet up in person. She invited me to this coffee shop, and I accepted. However, the day of, she started messaging me saying she had to tell me something - Her pictures on tinder weren't actually of her, and yes, she was a guy. He claimed he really liked talking to me though and begged me to still meet up with him. Naturally, I declined. I blocked his profile and continued on with life.

About a week later, I started talking to another girl. Once again, she seemed cool and fun and we hit if off. She asked me If I spoke to people on Tinder frequently, and rather stupidly, I told her about my previous encounter with the manlady (weeks later, I would realize that this new girl was the same girl as the week before). She asked me if I wanted to meet up and I said sure as long as it was in a public place. We decided on a cafe and the next day I sat at the table waiting. Five, ten, fifteen minutes had passed and she was nowhere to be found. I then peered out the window, and saw, from a cross the street, a man staring at me intently. I looked away, waited a few seconds, and looked back - he was still standing there staring. At that point, I left the cafe, got on my bike (I always bike everywhere), and booked it home. I was definitely a little freaked out, but tried to pull myself together, and reasoned that no one could have followed me. I then deleted my tinder profile, and things were normal for a few weeks

About three weeks later, I started getting phone calls. The numbers all showed up as "Unknown." I picked up the first few times to some guy breathing heavily into the phone. I was already a little freaked out. After about a day, I stopped picking up any call unless it displayed the caller's name. I then started receiving texts. At first they were pretty harmless. Calls for attention and begging me to meet in person. It then changed to very sexual texts, until eventually the messages became threatening and whoever was messaging me started throwing out my family and friends' names and whereabouts. Saying he/she would get them involved unless I answered. Because they were texting me, I could see a displayed number. But when I called phone providers, they told me the number couldn't be traced and that it was probably a tracfone. Great. I waited about two weeks, not responding to the texts (thinking I shouldn't feed the troll), but eventually it became to much. I started getting upwards of 50 texts and phone calls a day. I would wake up to 10-20 texts every morning. I then decided to change my number all together. The texting/calls stopped for a while, but sure enough, it started happening again. I called my phone provider asking if they ever gave out numbers at a user's request, and they said their policy stated that they wouldn't/couldn't unless valid identification was provided. Then one day, I tried logging into my Facebook, but was denied. Within a day friends start contacting me asking what the hell I was doing. Saying that they were getting terrible messages from my account. In particular, one of my girlfriends was receiving messages about her mom who died years ago. I apologized profusely and told people what was going on. I contacted Facebook and explained the situation and they helped me access my count again, at which point I deactivated it for a while. Enough was enough. I decided to contact the FBI, explaining what had been going on (for over a month now). They documented everything but told me since I, or any of my relatives/friends, were in no immediate danger, they probably wouldn't be able to do anything. At that point I felt stuck. I thought about hiring a private investigator or a hacker. I decided against it however and just hoped it would fade out If I never answered. I left my facebook deactivated and ignored any texts/phone calls. I never had any trouble at home, but some of my closest friends received the occasional text as well which weirded us all out. I hated that they got dragged into it. One day I came home and things felt very eery. Door unlocked, windows open and no one home. A strong breeze running through the apartment. I did a check of the place and found nothing else weird so I locked everything up and just waited for my roommates to get home.

Its been almost seven months now. The calls/texts have more or less stopped. I'll get an occasional text, but at most one every two weeks. At the peak of it, I was receiving almost 100 texts a day. It definitely affected my social/personal life. I became much more weary of the people around me and my surroundings. I just felt like I couldn't really focus on anything until this stopped. Work was difficult, though I tried to maintain my composure as best I could. Everything was just weird. Life was weird. I've since stopped using all forms of dating apps/websites. Things are getting back to normal and at this point, I just want to put it all behind me. I'm moving at the end of this year, so it'll be nice to have a fresh start in a new place. I'm not going to sit here and say all dating apps are dangerous and no one should use them. But definitely cover your bases, ask more questions before meeting someone, facetime them first, skype, anything. I was naive about it, and I regret it. Be safe, stick close to your friends and try meeting people in more traditional ways!

Weird tinder stalker, lets not meet.
tinder meetup gone wrong • /r/LetsNotMeet

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[CarbonBraddock]

I already shut the thread down with the goatman story i posted before. the rest of this is just masturbation.

 

[Deadpool1986]

Little did I know who he was

I like to devide my life into two separate times; before Clarke and after Clarke. In 2012 I started working at a corrections facility in a small town close to where I lived. The job was actually very easy and I enjoyed my work there. At home though, things were a bit rocky. My husband and I were fighting a lot and had finally decided to seperate. I was sad but honestly I was more relieved, it had been causing me a lot of stress that I was venting about to this guy at work named Clarke. I will say that Clarke is his last name but we all went by our last names at this place. I wanted to mention that now so theres no confusion later in the story.

Clarke was a really good listener. He always heard what I had to say, never pressured me into talking about things that I didnt want to, offered well thought out insight when asked for, and just all around was a great friend. So it wasnt long before we started to develop feelings for each other and started seeing each other outside of work..... intimately. Now before you ask, yes I was still married but my now ex husband and I were no longer physically or romantically together and Clarke to my knowledge was single.

Clarke and I met up around 3 times outside of work and everytime we met up it was at a hotel which I thought was odd since he lived alone that we couldnt go back to his place. He always had an excuse why we couldnt and I never really pushed the issue. This should have been my first sign that something was off. Over the time of us seeing eachother and talking, Clarke had mentioned his "crazy ex" to me. He never told me her name, only that she was crazy and they had once been engaged but it didnt work out and they now never talk. It was nice that he was sharing his past with me and I was in no place to judge him so I just listened to him vent to me like he had listen to me vent many times before and I felt as if we really connected. Little did I know who this man really was.

It was the day after Christmas and I worked and Clarke was off. We always called eachother after work so when I got to my car and turned on my phone I was a little shocked to see that I had 30 missed texts from Clarke. He was drunk and basically saying that although he cared for me a lot that we couldn't be together because he was still in love with his ex and that I deserved someone better than him. It was really confusing because we just had a friends with benefits thing going on and had talked about how although it would be nice to date, neither one of us was in a place to be in a relationship. I tried to call him but he never answered so I went home and went to sleep.

The next day at work I wasnt feeling well so I asked to go home early and left 2 hours early around 10pm. I called Clarke when I got to my car and he answer. We talked about what he said and he apologized and said that he still wanted to hang out if I wanted to, which I did. The strange thing was we kept taking these other calls and clearly making up stories about who he was talking to over and over. I just over looked it and said it wasn't any of my business. We got off the phone and I went home. The next morning when I woke up I had a text from Clarke that simply said forget me. I instantly had this horrible feeling in my stomach that something was wrong. I tried to text him back but got go reply. When I got to work, he wasnt there like he was supposed to be. I was worried. When I clocked in, my supervisor asked to speak to my privately. He wanted to know if I knew where Clarke lived or how to get a hold of his family. I told him I didn't as my heart sank. He said thanks and walked off. I felt sick. I ended up going back to my supervisor to tell him about the 30 text messages and how I was worried about him and if he could send someone to his house to check on him. My supervisor was really quiet and then told me that Clarke had tried to kill himself last night and was in the hospital. I was shocked and heart broken. I left work and went to go see him in the hospital. He looked rough. He had a big bandage on his wrist and a huge scratch mark across his face, which I thought was odd. I asked him why and he said he couldn't tell me because if he then I would be ashamed to have ever known him. I didn't know what he was talking about at all but when I did leave he asked me not to come back, not to call, and dont try to find him. It would be easier this way he said. I was crushed.

A couple days later I was contacted by an investigator saying that he was investigating the death of a young woman named Cassandra Clark. As it turns out, before my friend, Ryan Clarke, tried to commit suicide, he had killed his girlfriend by slitting her throat and stabbing her multiple times. This happened only a couple hours after we had gotten off the phone with each other that night.

From what I was told, Clarke was still seeing his girlfriend off and on and still staying at her place. This was because he was homeless and living out of his car, hence why we never went to his place. The night of the murder, Clarke had confessed to seeing someone else, me, to her and they ended up getting in a physical altercation in which he killed her.

Hes in jail now, serving 30 years for his crime. I cant begin to tell you how much this has affected my life and how much blame I have put on myself in the past for this. If any of Cassandra's family is reading this, I am so sorry for you're loss. And for Clarke, if there is a god, I hope he shows you no mercy.
Ryan Kyle Clarke gets 30 years for girlfriend’s murder

 

[Tunez]

I read them all

 

[Deadpool1986]

Ghost in Masung Tunnel
“There buried a family in mountain Seok-sung located in Yongin-si, Gyeonggi-do,decapitated to death, due to a wrongful accusation as traitors by King Gwang-hae. One of them was a little child who just started to say a few words. A spirit of a young child looking like a half rotten corpse used to come down to a village and claimed tens of people’s life.”

2013 전설의고향 - [ENG ver.] Ghost in Masung Tunnel - HORANG (마성귀신터널 영문판)

 

[Deadpool1986]

Speed Dating

Speed Dating is a scary story about a man who wants to find true love, but can’t find a woman that lives up to his expectations.

At the age of 30, I was still single. My mother kept asking me when I was going to find myself a nice girl and settle down. I assured her it was only a matter of time, but I knew that was a lie. I hadn’t been out on a date in over six months. All of my friends were already married and some of them even had kids. I was beginning to feel left out.

That’s why I decided to try speed dating.

The event was being held at a fashionable bar in the city center. I dressed in my best shirt and pants, splashed some aftershave on my neck and left the house. When I reached the bar, I walked in, trying to project an air of confidence. I was shocked when I saw how many other people had shown up. I counted 21 men and 21 women in total.

The host explained the rules of speed dating. The women all sat around at separate tables, while the men moved from table to table, spending three minutes talking to each woman. When the buzzer sounded, it meant your three minutes were up and it was time to move on.

When everyone was ready, the buzzer sounded and the speed dating began.

The first girl I sat down with was 21, much too young for me. The second was forty-something, much too old. The third woman was really ugly and I caught a very bad smell from the fourth. The fifth woman seemed nice, until she mentioned that she was divorced and had five children already. The sixth happened to let slip that she had a history of drug addiction and the seventh had a weird-shaped head. I began to give up hope of ever finding a perfect match.

The eighth lady was very fat and sweat was rolling down her face. The ninth had false teeth that fell out when she started to talk and the tenth was much too skinny. The eleventh woman couldn’t speak English. The twelfth had a squished nose that made her look like a pig. The thirteenth kept farting throughout our time together and the fourteenth just stared at me and never said a word. I noticed, when she stood up, that she only had one leg and walked with a cane. I was glad when the buzzer sounded and I was able to move along.

The fifteenth woman had a terrible rash all over her body. I made the sixteenth lady laugh so hard that she threw up all over the table. The seventeenth seemed alright, except for the fact that she kept picking her nose and eating it. The eighteenth seemed attractive, but she had a deformed hand. The nineteenth was in a wheelchair. When I got to the twentieth woman, I threw up my hands in disbelief. She obviously had too much to drink and was curled up in a ball on her seat, snoring loudly.

Just as I was contemplating skipping out early and going home, I sat down opposite the final lady. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had long, flowing dark hair, bright, green eyes and a cute little smile. She was dressed completely in black – black dress, black shoes, black everything – but she had a very bubbly personality. Everything I said made her giggle.

Her name was Karen and she was 28 years old. She said she had qualified as a nurse, but she was currently unemployed. She had been married with two children, but after her kids died of cancer, her husband had abandoned her. I immediately felt sorry for Karen and praised her for keeping such an upbeat attitude despite all the tragedy in her life.

At the end of the night, we stayed chatting together and we got on like a house on fire. When it was time to go, I asked her for her number and we arranged to go out on a date the next evening. I couldn’t believe it. I had actually scored with a beautiful woman.

Things went very well and we began dating regularly. As the weeks and months passed, our relationship moved pretty quickly. It seemed as if we were truly matched for each other. After about seven months together, I decided to pop the question and asked her to marry me. Of course, she said, “Yes.”

After the wedding, I moved out of my small apartment and began moving my belongings into her home. I had a lot of boxes filled with old books and I asked if I could store them in her basement.

“Relax,” she said with a laugh, “I’ll bring them down there while you’re at work tomorrow.”

The next few months were great. We never got tired of each other’s company and I thought I had found true love. Unfortunately, something happened that shattered our blissful idyll and changed my life forever.

One Sunday, I was sitting in front of the TV, reading the newspaper. Karen told me she needed to go to the grocery store and pick up something for dinner. She kissed me on the cheek and, just as she was about to walk out the front door, I told her there was a book I needed to get from the basement.

“Oh, the door is locked,” she said. “Wait until I get back. I’ll go down there and get it for you.”

After she left, I became curious. All the time I had been living with her, she never allowed me to go down into the basement. She always came up with some excuse or other. I decided to explore while she was away. The basement door was locked, but after rummaging around, I managed to find the key, hidden at the back of a kitchen drawer.

As soon as I opened the basement door, I smelled a terrible, rancid stench. The entire basement looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. The concrete walls were crumbling and the wooden stairs were damp and rotten. When I reached the bottom of the steps, the smell was putrid.

In the corner, I noticed a box with an old video recorder and some VHS videotapes inside. A strange curiosity overcame me and I grabbed the box and brought it upstairs. After plugging the video recorder in and hooking it up to the TV, I inserted the first videotape and pressed play.

I never should have done that.

The video was extremely shaky and grainy. In the darkness, I could just barely make out the figure of a man tied to a chair. Another figure stood over him, wearing a black mask and dressed from head to toe in shiny black leather. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the figure was holding a large axe. Suddenly, to my horror, it lifted the axe above its head and brought it crashing down, slicing off the man’s hand. He screamed in pain as the figure delivered more and more blows with the axe. I watched in utter terror, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. Each blow of the axe hacked off another piece of the man’s body until his arms and legs were lying in pieces all around him and he was just a writhing, bloody torso in a chair.

Throughout the carnage, the killer was giggling like a schoolgirl.

With shaking hands, I reached out and stopped the video. Just then, I heard a voice behind me.

“So you stumbled on my dirty little secret,” it said.

I slowly turned. My wife was standing at the door, dressed in a black leather bodysuit. In her hands, she was holding a large axe.

She began to giggle.

I don’t remember what happened after that. The next door neighbors must have heard my terrified screams and called the police. Four officers burst through the front door. They managed to tackle my wife and subdue her before she killed me. Then, they rushed me to hospital.

Of course, there was a big trial afterwards. My wife was found guilty and the judge gave her the death penalty. I was present at the execution. Just before they threw the switch on the electric chair, they asked her if she had any last words.

“It’s his own fault,” she yelled. “He never should have married me!”

Then, she giggled like a little schoolgirl as the executioner pulled the lever and electricity surged through her body. Five minutes later, she was pronounced dead.

Years later, I still have nightmares about her. I’ve been through therapy and the doctors say that, with time, I may be able to overcome the horrific trauma I experienced.

While I was in the hospital, I met a wonderful woman. She was my nurse and, over the weeks and months, we fell in love. She isn’t the most beautiful woman I ever met and she doesn’t have a perfect body. She lost an eye and three of the fingers on her left hand in a car accident. Despite all that, she is certainly the most loving and caring person a man could wish for. Inside, she has a heart of gold.

Last Summer, we got married and moved in together. She has helped me a lot. Whenever I read the newspaper, she turns the pages for me. Whenever I have an itch, she scratches it for me. She managed to restore my trust in women, but sometimes, late at night when I’m lying in bed, I still miss my arms and legs.

 

[Deadpool1986]

He Who Follows Me

He Who Follows Me is a scary story about a man and wife who are followed by ghostly footsteps and someone known only as “The Death That Walks”. The story is adapted from an old time radio show called The Hall of Fantasy.

Prologue

Here in my hands, I hold the diary of a dead man. He and his wife were friends of mine. Their names were Bill and Helen Mason. The words he has written down tell a tale almost too fantastic to believe.

This is what was found written in the diary. The entries end on the day the man was found dead.

March 3, 1938

Today, Helen and I came across one of those delightful, old southern mansions. We decided to stop and take a look around the place. Helen was wanted to take some pictures. Although there was nobody home, we felt than no one would mind us taking a look around the place.

We both felt it was a shame that the owners let the place get so dilapidated and run-down. It had probably been beautiful in its day. After taking some shots of the house from the front and the side, I noticed a strange building at the back of the house, so we walked back there to take a look.

The grounds at the back were more shabby than the front. The building at the back didn’t seem so run-down. In fact, it was in remarkably good condition. It looked like it had been built a lot later than the house was. I estimated it to be no more than twenty years old. It didn’t have any windows and was made of stone… gray stone.

Helen noticed that the padlock on the door was broken. Our curiosity got the better of us and we decided to take a look inside.

The massive heavy iron door swung open reluctantly. We stepped inside. Although there were no windows, light entered the structure through a skylight in the ceiling. The cold, damp musty air chilled our bones. There was a large stone block in the middle of the floor, right where the light was coming down from the skylight. That was when we realized the building was a mausoleum, and the stone case on the floor was a sarcophagus… a stone coffin.

Although there was nothing else in there, it felt strangely crowded… as if there were things there that we couldn’t see. Helen took out her camera. She wanted to get a picture of the sarcophagus.

All of a sudden, we heard a man yelling at us, “Hey, what are you two doing in here?”

“We noticed the lock was broken and we came in to have a look,” I said.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the man warned us.

“We didn’t mean any harm,” Helen protested.

“HE won’t like it,” the man told us, ominously.

“Who’s HE?” I demanded.

“The thing that sleeps in that stone coffin,” the man replied. “You didn’t notice the writing over the door as you came in, did you? That’s a shame, ’cause you didn’t know what you was gettin’ into.”

“I don’t understand,” I told him. “We weren’t trying to steal anything…”

“That don’t make no difference,” the man said. “HE doesn’t care what your reasons were.”

“Who’s HE?” Helen asked.

“They called him Mr. Thomas when he was living,” the man told us. “They call him The Death That Walks now that he’s dead. People around here seen him at night. He’s dead, but they seen him walkin’. I know, ’cause I seen him myself.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “I think we’d better go, Bill,” she said to me.

“You don’t believe what I’m tellin’ you,” the man said. “That’s all right with me. I don’t care what you believe. But you listen to what I’m sayin’ now. If I was you, I’d get away from this place as fast as I could. Not just this place, but this town… this part of the country.”

“Why?” Helen demanded.

“Want me to tell you a little story?” the man asked. “All right. Maybe you’ll believe me then. Old Mr. Thomas came from some place in Europe. I say “old,” but he really wasn’t old. Just seemed that way. He bought the house and grounds here and had them cleaned up, till the place looked like it was brand new. Then he started buildin’ this here building.”

“There was something funny ’bout Thomas… somethin’ in his eyes that made you frightened of him. His eyes, they looked like the eyes of a dead man. He didn’t act like anyone I ever knew. He was always talking about death, always tellin’ me how he could come back after death. I was the caretaker then, just like I am now.”

“After this building was completed, I used to watch him at night. He’d come out here. It seemed like he was in some sort of trance. He’d stay out here for hours. And when he’d come back to the house his eyes would glisten and shine, so you couldn’t hardly look at him.”

“A week before he died, he told me that as long as I live, I was to take care of this place, ’cause if I didn’t he’d come back and kill me. And then he died… just like that… and he was put in here, in this coffin.”

“One night, about two months later when the moon was full, I heard a noise. And when I come out to look, I saw the door to this place opening, and him come out in the moonlight. I could hear his footsteps, something queer and draggin’-like. Then he turned around and I could see his face in the moonlight, pale and pasty and sick-lookin’. Those eyes of his seemed like two burnin’ coals of fire.”

“He seemed to be lookin’ at me. I heard him say, ‘They have disturbed me, and the moon has awakened me. I shall follow them.’ That’s what he said. I heard him just as plain as you’re hearin’ me. And then, he vanished into the night. Towards morning, I heard his footsteps again. I heard that big iron door closin’. And I knew he was back.”

“The next day I heard Ralph Cummins died the night before, screamin’ something about not meanin’ to go into the mausoleum. I knew who killed him. This has happened again and again for the last ten years since he’s been dead. Folks around here say he’ll follow you wherever you go if you come inside here.”

“Why haven’t you been killed?” I asked.

“Because he needs me!” the man said. “He… He… He ain’t gonna kill me. But if I was you, I get out of this part of the country, just as soon as I could.”

A shiver ran down my spine and Helen and I turned to leave. “We’d better get going,” I said.

“I wish I’d been here when you came,” the man said ruefully.

As we walked out, we looked up and saw the writing above the door. It read: “IF YOU ENTER HERE, INTO THE REALM OF DEATH, I SHALL FOLLOW YOU, AND BRING HIM WITH ME.”

March 3, Later

I sit here and write these words. It is late and the moon has risen full in the sky. Helen is standing by the window looking out.

For some reason, I am frightened. Yet I know that a few months from now I will laugh at the memory of my fright. However, in the morning, I do believe that we will leave this place. Helen is glad. She doesn’t believe the caretaker’s story, but she is concerned, just as I am.

It was a beautiful night. Helen and I looked out the window. The moon was so big and full. All of a sudden, we noticed a man standing on the street below. He was looking straight up at us and pointing at us. His face was pale and pasty-looking and his eyes… his eyes were like two bright coals of fire.

March 3, Still Later

The man down in the street, whoever he was, left after about ten minutes. He gave us quite a fright. If I had felt any doubts as to whether we should leave this place they’ve all been dispelled now. I don’t know what to believe. Helen has just gone to bed. I think I’ll do the same.

March 4, 1938.

As we were settling down to sleep last night, we heard footsteps pacing back and forth. They were coming from the room above us. I called down and complained to the clerk at reception. He told us that the room above ours was unoccupied.

A short time afterwards, we left the hotel. We immediately got into our car and drove all night and all day. We are stopping now in a motel almost 1000 miles away. It’s reassuring to know that HE can’t possibly follow us. I’m very tired. I will go to bed and get an early start in the morning.

March 5, 1938.

Last night was not very comforting either. We heard the same footsteps outside our room, and Helen let out a scream. She claimed she saw the man’s face outside the window. This morning when I went to pay the bill, the motel owner said that a strange, pasty-faced man had been in earlier and told him to tell me that he would follow me.

March 11, 1938.

It’s impossible to get any material together that will help me in my work. Everywhere we go, HE is there also.

March 16, 1938.

This morning, the clerk at the front desk told us that a strange man came in and left a message for us. He said it was OK for us to go on ahead because he was going to follow us…

March 22, 1938.

HE left a message with the lady at the desk telling us that he would be in touch.

April 7, 1938.

HE left another message at the desk. The manager had the nerve to ask me if he was a friend of ours.

April 18, 1938.

Another disturbing night without any sleep. More footsteps from the hall outside.

April 29, 1938.

When we went to check out this morning, I asked the clerk if there were any messages. He said a strange man in a white suit came by and left a message saying he would follow us.

May 15, 1938.

I don’t know what to do anymore. We can’t stop for the night without HIM showing up. The only sleep we get anymore is in the car while on the road.

May 30, 1938.

Helen and I argued again today. Since we’ve been on the run, that seems to be all we ever do. She wanted to go home. I fear that if we go home, HE will stalk us there too. She felt it was the only place left to turn. I didn’t know what to say, so we left for home.

June 23, 1938.

We arrived home this evening. I called my friend Gary as soon as we got home. He said he’d be out within the hour to see us.

June 24, 1938.

Gary wasn’t able to help us in any way. I really didn’t expect any help. I was hoping he would be able to offer some suggestion as to what to do. However, last night was the first night in months that we haven’t been aware of HIS presence. Maybe… maybe Helen is right. Perhaps HE won’t follow us here.

July 3, 1938.

We have not seen or heard anything unusual since we first came home. I feel like a man who has been given a new lease on life.

July 10, 1938.

Still nothing.

August 19, 1938.

For the past two months, a feeling of peace and security has enveloped the house. Helen and I have been able to go around with no sense of danger or dread. But last night that feeling was shattered…

Gary had come over for dinner. It was almost 10 o’clock. We heard footsteps upstairs. “HE’s back,” I gasped. I asked Gary to come upstairs with me to investigate. Helen stayed downstairs and waited anxiously for us to return.

We cautiously made our way upstairs. The footsteps sounded like they were coming from the guest bedroom. Gary and I opened the door and peered inside. It was empty.

All of a sudden, we heard a scream. It was Helen.

We ran back downstairs and found Helen sitting in an armchair. Her eyes were wide open and there was a look of unimaginable horror on her face… She was dead.

August 23, 1938.

We buried her today. I sit here in the empty house, writing this. I know that soon HE will come for me too. I write this in the hope that someone will find it, read it and maybe understand my death.

It’s lonely here. Yet, suddenly I have the feeling that I am not alone. Someone is here with me.

HE is here, in this room with me. I am afraid to turn to meet him. Those eyes of his burning into me. Yet, I must. I pray that someone reads this. Perhaps he will….

Epilogue

The diary ends here. I have read the manuscript in full. I can’t shake the feeling of creeping horror that runs through the pages. The August 23 entry was the last he ever made.

The man was found dead in the very room he wrote about in his diary. There was a look of unimaginable horror on his face. The coroner couldn’t determine a cause of death, but you and I know what killed him… The Death That Walks.