Post by Meowth on Mar 11, 2009 17:45:37 GMT -5
Here is where you can post scary stories. That could be things that happened to you or things that you read or heard.
I'll start off:
Here is a story I read today:
Dead Call by William F Nolan
Len had been dead for a month when the phone rang.
Midnight. Cold in the house and me dragged up from sleep to anwser the call.Helen gone for the weekend.Me, alone in the house.And the phone ringing...
"Hello"
"hello Frank"
"Who is this"
"You know me.It's Len...ole Len Stiles."
Cold.Deep and intense.The receicer dead-cold matter in my hand.
"Leanard Stiles died four weeks ago"
"Four weeks,three days,two hours,and tweenty-seven minuts ago-to be exact"
"I want to know who you are?"
A chuckcle.The same dry chuckle I'd heard so many times
"C'mon,ole buddy-after tweenty years.Hell you know me."
"No joke,Frank.You're ther alive.And I'm here dead.And you know something buddy....I'm realy glade I did it"
"Did... what"
"Killed myself.Because...death is just what i hope it would be.Beautiful...quiet...no pressures'
"Len Stile's death was an accident...a concerte freeway barrier...His car-"
"I aimed my car for that barrier"the phone voice told me"Pedal to the floor.Doing over ninety when I hit..No accident,Frank"The voice cold...cold"I wanted to be dead.And no regrets"
I tried to laugh,make light of this-matching his chuckle with my own "Dead men don't use telephones"
"I'm not really useing the phone,not in a physical sense.Its just I chose to contact you this way.As a detached spirit I'm able to align my comic vibrations to match the vibrations of this poweer line.Simple real"
"Sure.A snap.Nothing to it"
"Naturally,your skeptical.I expected you to be.But listen carefully to me Frank"
And I listened-with the phone griped in my hand in that cold house-as the voice told me only things that only Len cold know.
He was Len Stiles.
"All right...I don't...believe in ghosts,don't...pretend to understand any of this but..I'll accept this.I must accept this"
"I'm glad,Frank-because its important that we talk"A long moment of hesitation.then the voice,lower now,soft."I know how how lousy things have been ole buddy"
"What do you mean"
I just know how things are going for you.And...I want to help.As your frien,I want you to understand."
"well..I'm really not"
"You've been feeling bad,haven't you?Kind of down,right"
"Yeah...a little I guess"
"And I don't blame you.You've got reasons.For one...there's your money problem"
"I'm expecting a raise.Shendorf promised me one-within the next few weeks"
"you won't get it Frank.I know. He's been lying to you.Right now,at this moment,he's looking for a man to replace you at the company.He's planing to fire you"
"He never liked me...we never got along from the day I wal;ked into that office"
"And your wife.all the arguments you have been having with her latly....It's a pattern.Your marrige is over.Helen's going to ask for a divorce.She is in love with another man"
"Who dammit?What's his name"
"You don't know him.Would'nt change things if you did.There is nothing you can do about it now.Helen doesn't love you anymore.And there's Jan.She's back on it,Frank.Only its worse now.Alot worse"
I knew what he meant-the coldness raked along my body.Jan was 19,my oldest duaghter and she's been into drugs for the past 3 years.She promised to quit.
"What do you know about Jan?Tell me"
"She's into the heavey stuff Frank.She's hooked bad.It's too late for her"
"What the hell are you saying?"
"I'm saying she's lost to you...She's rejected you and there's no reaching her.She hates you...blames you for everything"
"I won't accept that kind of blame! i did my best for her"
"It wasn't enough Frank.We both know that.You'll never see Jan agian."
The blackness was welling within me,a chicking wave through my body
"Listen to me buddy.Things are going to get worse,not better.I know.I went through my own kind of hell when I was alive"
"I'll...start over...leave the city-go East,work with my brother in New York"
"Your brother doesn't want you in his life.Your an intruder...and alien.He never writes you,does he"
"No but that dosn't mean"
"Not even a card last Christmas.No letters or calls.He doesn't want yoou with him,Frank,believ me"
And then he begane to tell me other things...He began to talk about about middle age and how it was too late now to make any kind of new beginning...He spoke of dise...loneliness..rejection and despair.And the blackness was complete.
"There's only one real solution to things,Frank-just one.That gun you keep in your desk upstairs.use it,frank.Use the gun"
"I couldn't do that"
"But why not?What other choice have you got.The solution is there.go up stairs and use the gun.I'll be waiting for afterwards.You won't be alone.It'll be like the old days...we'll be together...Death is beautiful,Frank.I know life is ugly,but death is beautiiful...use the gun,Frank...the gun... use the gun.. the gun"
I've been dead for a month now, and Len was right.It's fine here.no pressures.No worries.Gray and quiet and beautiful...
I know how lousy things have been going for you.And they won't get any better....
Isn't that your phone ringing?
Better anwser it.
it's important tha we talk.
From the book 100 Hair-Raing little Horror Stories
I'll start off:
Here is a story I read today:
Dead Call by William F Nolan
Len had been dead for a month when the phone rang.
Midnight. Cold in the house and me dragged up from sleep to anwser the call.Helen gone for the weekend.Me, alone in the house.And the phone ringing...
"Hello"
"hello Frank"
"Who is this"
"You know me.It's Len...ole Len Stiles."
Cold.Deep and intense.The receicer dead-cold matter in my hand.
"Leanard Stiles died four weeks ago"
"Four weeks,three days,two hours,and tweenty-seven minuts ago-to be exact"
"I want to know who you are?"
A chuckcle.The same dry chuckle I'd heard so many times
"C'mon,ole buddy-after tweenty years.Hell you know me."
"No joke,Frank.You're ther alive.And I'm here dead.And you know something buddy....I'm realy glade I did it"
"Did... what"
"Killed myself.Because...death is just what i hope it would be.Beautiful...quiet...no pressures'
"Len Stile's death was an accident...a concerte freeway barrier...His car-"
"I aimed my car for that barrier"the phone voice told me"Pedal to the floor.Doing over ninety when I hit..No accident,Frank"The voice cold...cold"I wanted to be dead.And no regrets"
I tried to laugh,make light of this-matching his chuckle with my own "Dead men don't use telephones"
"I'm not really useing the phone,not in a physical sense.Its just I chose to contact you this way.As a detached spirit I'm able to align my comic vibrations to match the vibrations of this poweer line.Simple real"
"Sure.A snap.Nothing to it"
"Naturally,your skeptical.I expected you to be.But listen carefully to me Frank"
And I listened-with the phone griped in my hand in that cold house-as the voice told me only things that only Len cold know.
He was Len Stiles.
"All right...I don't...believe in ghosts,don't...pretend to understand any of this but..I'll accept this.I must accept this"
"I'm glad,Frank-because its important that we talk"A long moment of hesitation.then the voice,lower now,soft."I know how how lousy things have been ole buddy"
"What do you mean"
I just know how things are going for you.And...I want to help.As your frien,I want you to understand."
"well..I'm really not"
"You've been feeling bad,haven't you?Kind of down,right"
"Yeah...a little I guess"
"And I don't blame you.You've got reasons.For one...there's your money problem"
"I'm expecting a raise.Shendorf promised me one-within the next few weeks"
"you won't get it Frank.I know. He's been lying to you.Right now,at this moment,he's looking for a man to replace you at the company.He's planing to fire you"
"He never liked me...we never got along from the day I wal;ked into that office"
"And your wife.all the arguments you have been having with her latly....It's a pattern.Your marrige is over.Helen's going to ask for a divorce.She is in love with another man"
"Who dammit?What's his name"
"You don't know him.Would'nt change things if you did.There is nothing you can do about it now.Helen doesn't love you anymore.And there's Jan.She's back on it,Frank.Only its worse now.Alot worse"
I knew what he meant-the coldness raked along my body.Jan was 19,my oldest duaghter and she's been into drugs for the past 3 years.She promised to quit.
"What do you know about Jan?Tell me"
"She's into the heavey stuff Frank.She's hooked bad.It's too late for her"
"What the hell are you saying?"
"I'm saying she's lost to you...She's rejected you and there's no reaching her.She hates you...blames you for everything"
"I won't accept that kind of blame! i did my best for her"
"It wasn't enough Frank.We both know that.You'll never see Jan agian."
The blackness was welling within me,a chicking wave through my body
"Listen to me buddy.Things are going to get worse,not better.I know.I went through my own kind of hell when I was alive"
"I'll...start over...leave the city-go East,work with my brother in New York"
"Your brother doesn't want you in his life.Your an intruder...and alien.He never writes you,does he"
"No but that dosn't mean"
"Not even a card last Christmas.No letters or calls.He doesn't want yoou with him,Frank,believ me"
And then he begane to tell me other things...He began to talk about about middle age and how it was too late now to make any kind of new beginning...He spoke of dise...loneliness..rejection and despair.And the blackness was complete.
"There's only one real solution to things,Frank-just one.That gun you keep in your desk upstairs.use it,frank.Use the gun"
"I couldn't do that"
"But why not?What other choice have you got.The solution is there.go up stairs and use the gun.I'll be waiting for afterwards.You won't be alone.It'll be like the old days...we'll be together...Death is beautiful,Frank.I know life is ugly,but death is beautiiful...use the gun,Frank...the gun... use the gun.. the gun"
I've been dead for a month now, and Len was right.It's fine here.no pressures.No worries.Gray and quiet and beautiful...
I know how lousy things have been going for you.And they won't get any better....
Isn't that your phone ringing?
Better anwser it.
it's important tha we talk.
From the book 100 Hair-Raing little Horror Stories