Scariest Nonfiction Ghost Stories
These 19 real ghost stories will have you questioning that bump you hear in the night. Los Angeles is one of the best destinations for haunted-house hunting, and this Bavarian-style home in Beverly Hills has a particularly gruesome history. In 1932, it was home to the iconic actress Jean Harlow and her abusive husband, Paul Bern, who shot himself in the head while standing in front of the mirror. Their butler discovered him and called MGM instead of the police, so there were tons of rumors that it wasn't actually suicide.
I push opened the graveyard's gate and it creaked horribly. Mists had settled in the graveyard, making it hard to see. I lighted my flashlight and started to walk across it to the other gate at the other end. So I put on my jacket and walked to the graveyard, my friends following me.
Berruyer mentioned that he had, in fact, organized a concert that very day at his apartment, and would be honored for Jean Romier to join him. Seeing no cause for alarm, Jean Romier readily accepted. This was around 2004 in California when I was a sophomore in college. I lived and worked on campus in Irvine, about 45 minutes away from where my parents lived, but would drive back every weekend to do laundry. (Cheaper than doing it in the dorms.) One night, I came in hauling my big plastic Target hamper full of dirty clothes. No one was home, so I put my stuff down in the laundry room and made my way to the living room couch and turned on the TV.
But there’s something strange about the home, which seems to be especially unwelcoming to outsiders. Miranda feels that the house is driving her to have strange hungers. This deeply unsettling novel incorporates many horror elements to confront how the effects of grief and loss, mental illness, and racial politics on one family over generations.
She then pumped her car full of gas before hopping back in and flooring it, basically stealing the gas with two hitch hikers in the back. My dad and his friend were beginning to freak out when she pulled a gun from under her seat and asked “are we gonna have a problem” or something like that. But that wasn’t what gave me the real Heebie jeebies. My dad attended the trials, and said it was the first time he had ever had thoughts of supporting the death penalty.
Their grandma went into her room, and our Reddit user went to the bathroom to brush their teeth. That was when they heard three light knocks right behind them. It’s 1912, and the Moore family, along with two sisters who were friends of the Moore children, scary true stories arrived at their home. They had just spent the evening at a children’s day celebration at their local Lutheran church, an event Mrs. Moore had helped plan. After spending some time together, they all settled down for a good night’s sleep.
I spent many mornings on the front porch waiting for the sun to come up before I went back in the house. Almost everyone who stayed at my house had sleep paralysis at least once in the house. "I lived in a house for about five years that was haunted, but not in a malicious way. In a 'shitty roommate' kind of way." She asked where the maid went, and thought that the maid was cooking breakfast. My uncle had no idea what she was talking about and asked what she looked like. Walked her to the living room and pointed to an old picture.
My friend took this picture of his cousin in their new house. He says it was just the two of them there but that's not what it looks like. Every image of her, when observed, gives her power. "Living fiction." She lives off our observation and thoughts of her. When we all watched that stream, banded together and gave her all of our attention all at once, we made her more powerful than she'd ever been before. We made her strong enough to manifest through the images we'd posted on our message board and speak directly to us.
More silly than scary, and at one point an auxiliary character says, “But witches have gone out of style, haven’t they? The company that convinced you and all your down-and-out friends to sell kitchen knives during college as part of a pyramid scheme? In this story, we see a man so hopeless that he resorts to cold-calling anywhere he can, even a warehouse parking lot after hours.
I asked him why the regular mailman wasn't here, and I was told he was visiting family. He kept telling me to open the front door, but I politely told him that I wasn't feeling well and that I wasn't allowed to leave the house. I told him we would pick up the box from the post office, and he was telling me how much of a hassle that would be, and how my mom would want me to do her this favor. I told him that I would come outside, but that I had to get my shoes from upstairs first. Then I ran through the house and locked the back door and called my neighbor who worked from home. She was a close family friend, and I called her up screaming into the phone that she had to come over right now.
The apartment was searched, and there was no sign of the notebook, but “pictures” were found. As a teenager, I was finally told the pictures were graphic and included violent child pornography involving young boys. About a week later, still no winners, and kids have moved on and stopped talking about it. Around mid-morning our teacher gets called out to the hall to talk to someone for about five minutes and comes back looking wide-eyed and scared or something. Each boy in the class gets called to the office and does not return. Whenever I went to class or hung out with friends on campus, I felt better.
Over the years, sightings were reported of a little girl living with a pack of wolves, and later a grown woman, covered in hair, nursing wolf pups... And finally sightings of a strange-looking wolf with suspiciously human-like features. The girlfriend is obviously frightened, and wants to go home straight away, but the boyfriend insists that they'll be fine. He locks all the car doors and tries to kiss her again.
The girl turned to look in her room, but saw nothing. She flicked on the lamp, which now worked, and saw a red stain where she was standing. It wasn’t blood, because the red was too bright, almost pink, like paint. She scratched at the purple wall of her room and, believe it or not, behind the purple paint was pink, the same dark shade that had been on the floor. Continue this story as long as you wish, with more details about the scary noises in the house and repeating the question “Where is my Hairy Toe” more forcibly and louder.
I push opened the graveyard's gate and it creaked horribly. Mists had settled in the graveyard, making it hard to see. I lighted my flashlight and started to walk across it to the other gate at the other end. So I put on my jacket and walked to the graveyard, my friends following me.
Berruyer mentioned that he had, in fact, organized a concert that very day at his apartment, and would be honored for Jean Romier to join him. Seeing no cause for alarm, Jean Romier readily accepted. This was around 2004 in California when I was a sophomore in college. I lived and worked on campus in Irvine, about 45 minutes away from where my parents lived, but would drive back every weekend to do laundry. (Cheaper than doing it in the dorms.) One night, I came in hauling my big plastic Target hamper full of dirty clothes. No one was home, so I put my stuff down in the laundry room and made my way to the living room couch and turned on the TV.
But there’s something strange about the home, which seems to be especially unwelcoming to outsiders. Miranda feels that the house is driving her to have strange hungers. This deeply unsettling novel incorporates many horror elements to confront how the effects of grief and loss, mental illness, and racial politics on one family over generations.
She then pumped her car full of gas before hopping back in and flooring it, basically stealing the gas with two hitch hikers in the back. My dad and his friend were beginning to freak out when she pulled a gun from under her seat and asked “are we gonna have a problem” or something like that. But that wasn’t what gave me the real Heebie jeebies. My dad attended the trials, and said it was the first time he had ever had thoughts of supporting the death penalty.
Their grandma went into her room, and our Reddit user went to the bathroom to brush their teeth. That was when they heard three light knocks right behind them. It’s 1912, and the Moore family, along with two sisters who were friends of the Moore children, scary true stories arrived at their home. They had just spent the evening at a children’s day celebration at their local Lutheran church, an event Mrs. Moore had helped plan. After spending some time together, they all settled down for a good night’s sleep.
I spent many mornings on the front porch waiting for the sun to come up before I went back in the house. Almost everyone who stayed at my house had sleep paralysis at least once in the house. "I lived in a house for about five years that was haunted, but not in a malicious way. In a 'shitty roommate' kind of way." She asked where the maid went, and thought that the maid was cooking breakfast. My uncle had no idea what she was talking about and asked what she looked like. Walked her to the living room and pointed to an old picture.
My friend took this picture of his cousin in their new house. He says it was just the two of them there but that's not what it looks like. Every image of her, when observed, gives her power. "Living fiction." She lives off our observation and thoughts of her. When we all watched that stream, banded together and gave her all of our attention all at once, we made her more powerful than she'd ever been before. We made her strong enough to manifest through the images we'd posted on our message board and speak directly to us.
More silly than scary, and at one point an auxiliary character says, “But witches have gone out of style, haven’t they? The company that convinced you and all your down-and-out friends to sell kitchen knives during college as part of a pyramid scheme? In this story, we see a man so hopeless that he resorts to cold-calling anywhere he can, even a warehouse parking lot after hours.
I asked him why the regular mailman wasn't here, and I was told he was visiting family. He kept telling me to open the front door, but I politely told him that I wasn't feeling well and that I wasn't allowed to leave the house. I told him we would pick up the box from the post office, and he was telling me how much of a hassle that would be, and how my mom would want me to do her this favor. I told him that I would come outside, but that I had to get my shoes from upstairs first. Then I ran through the house and locked the back door and called my neighbor who worked from home. She was a close family friend, and I called her up screaming into the phone that she had to come over right now.
The apartment was searched, and there was no sign of the notebook, but “pictures” were found. As a teenager, I was finally told the pictures were graphic and included violent child pornography involving young boys. About a week later, still no winners, and kids have moved on and stopped talking about it. Around mid-morning our teacher gets called out to the hall to talk to someone for about five minutes and comes back looking wide-eyed and scared or something. Each boy in the class gets called to the office and does not return. Whenever I went to class or hung out with friends on campus, I felt better.
Over the years, sightings were reported of a little girl living with a pack of wolves, and later a grown woman, covered in hair, nursing wolf pups... And finally sightings of a strange-looking wolf with suspiciously human-like features. The girlfriend is obviously frightened, and wants to go home straight away, but the boyfriend insists that they'll be fine. He locks all the car doors and tries to kiss her again.
The girl turned to look in her room, but saw nothing. She flicked on the lamp, which now worked, and saw a red stain where she was standing. It wasn’t blood, because the red was too bright, almost pink, like paint. She scratched at the purple wall of her room and, believe it or not, behind the purple paint was pink, the same dark shade that had been on the floor. Continue this story as long as you wish, with more details about the scary noises in the house and repeating the question “Where is my Hairy Toe” more forcibly and louder.
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