These are 7 True Scary Stories To Help You To SLEEP Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:07:27 Story 2 00:16:05 Story 3 00:27:49 Story 4 00:34:43 Story 5 00:42:36 Story 6 00:50:00 Story 7 Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Thumbnail art: ►Just Creepy Business inquiries: ►[email protected] #scarystories #horrorstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What is the first scary story about?
He lived with his Aunt Margaret, who seemed very strict to my eyes. He would make light of how she was tough on him, giving him curfews as if he were some little kid. But he was in his twenties. He would laugh about it, but I could tell it got to him. Margaret made him be home by 9pm every night, and she wasn't playing around.
Chapter 2: What happened to Alex and his Aunt Margaret?
alex said that if he wasn't home on time she would either lock him out or threaten to call the police honestly sometimes it was hard to believe how can one be that strict with a full-grown man but then again alex was never in a mood to discuss that and neither did emily urge him to do so We just accepted it as one of those weird parts of his life.
Chapter 3: How did Emily react to Alex's confession?
Even so, Alex spent a lot of time at Emily's place, and I was there most nights too. We had a good laugh together. We'd play cards, drink cheap beer, and make fun of each other. It was pretty much normal, and before long, Alex was pretty much a part of our little group. But every now and then, I would catch something.
Chapter 4: What unsettling events occurred after Alex's confession?
Like how he'd suddenly go silent when anyone even mentioned Margaret's name, or how he always checked the clock, even if we were just lounging. I convinced myself it probably was nothing at all. Still, a small voice at the back of my head, I've since discovered, always asked, what if? Then came that one night.
Emily and I were just beginning a new round of cards when Alex charged into the room It was like 9.30, way past when he was supposed to be home He looked rough, all messed up in the hair and kind of dirty in his clothes He had that look in his eyes, like he'd just gone through something He said he had gotten into a fight on the way over
I do not know whether to believe him or not, but he was always getting into some kind of trouble, so we just shrugged it off. We started playing cards again, but it wasn't the same. Alex was acting weird. He laughed at things that weren't funny too loudly, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking when he picked up his cards. I tried to brush it off, but it was hard to ignore.
Chapter 5: What was the second story's main theme?
I remember looking over at Emily, and she gave me this look back, like she was wondering the same thing I was. What was going on with Alex? Around midnight, Emily asked him about Margaret. She wanted to know if she was going to freak out since he wasn't home. Alex hesitated, then said Margaret was asleep. He said he'd snuck out, and she probably wouldn't even notice he was gone until morning.
It made sense, I guess, so we didn't press it. We just kept playing, but the air felt heavy, like there was something none of us were saying.
the rest of the night seemed to drag on forever i kept watching alex trying to figure out what was wrong with him he would smile but it never reached his eyes he kept looking at the door as if he was waiting for something to happen it made me feel on edge but i didn't say anything I just played my cards, laughed when everyone else did, and tried to ignore the knot in my stomach.
In retrospect, I wish I had trusted that feeling. Things might have been different if I had done so. The next day I went home, exhausted from staying late up with Emily and Alex. It had been a weird night, and something about Alex was gnawing at me no matter how much I was trying to shake it from my head.
I did not really have much time to ponder it because my phone was ringing off the hook around noon. It was Emily. She sounded like she was falling apart. Jamie, you have to check the news. Now, she said, her voice shaking and thick with tears. I could hardly understand her, but the panic in her voice made me sit up straight. My hands fumbled as I pulled up the local news website.
I wasn't ready for what I saw. There was Alex's face, his mugshot, staring back at me from the screen. The headline read, Local man arrested for brutal murder. My eyes skimmed over the words, but it was like they didn't make sense. Margaret. Dead. Bludgeoned in her own home. My stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to be sick.
I could hear Emily crying on the other end of the line, but I managed to push the words out. Emily, what happened? I asked. though I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear it. She took a wavering breath and began to explain. After I left the previous night, Alex had confessed to her. He told her how he'd snapped.
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Chapter 6: What strange behavior did Hannah exhibit?
Margaret had yelled at him again, something about being late, and he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed a hammer and... Emily couldn't even finish the sentence. I could hear her gasping for air, trying to pull herself together. She said Alex had talked about it like it was no big deal, like it was just something that happened. He'd even smiled while he talked.
Emily said she was terrified, but knew she had to act calm. So she acted like she was on his side, telling him that they could run away. She even started packing her bag while Alex watched. All the time she thought of how she might get out from under him. locking herself in the bathroom finally worked, and she immediately called 911, whispering to the operator so Alex would not hear.
The police came quickly. Emily said it felt like forever, but it really wasn't more than a few minutes before they were pounding against the door. She could hear when they busted the door open, the yelling, the crash of furniture as they took Alex down. She stayed in the bathroom. Too scared to come out until one of the officers came and knocked on the door and told her it was safe.
I didn't say anything. My best friend had been sitting next to a murderer, pretending to be okay. Pretending to run away with him, just so she could live. I felt cold all over. I thought of Alex sitting across from me, laughing too loud, his hands shaking as he dealt the cards. I thought of the streaks on his sleeve, the way he kept glancing at the door. It all made sense now, but it was too late.
That day, Emily and I talked for a really long time. She cried until she almost couldn't breathe anymore, and I tried to comfort her, though I was shaken too. We both knew nothing would ever be quite the same again. Alex was gone, locked away, but the memory of that night would live with us.
Every time I thought of it, this heavy weight would fall onto my chest, knowing we had come so close to something so dark, and we hadn't even seen it. The house was so silent I could almost hear the dust drop. I had collapsed onto the couch, my body sinking back into the cushions as I held my Nintendo Switch, zoned out to the jaunty music of Animal Crossing.
The afternoon had slipped by quietly enough, me chatting easily with Jake over my gaming headset. Nothing seemed out of place until I heard it, a definite crunching of gravel outside right from the driveway. It wasn't the familiar sound of my dad's truck tires or the friendly rumble of the neighbor's car. I paused the game and moved toward the window, my eyes searching the driveway.
There it was, an old blue van sitting awkwardly like it didn't belong. I peered through the curtains, my breath catching for just a moment.
a man in an unwieldy black hoodie and boots caked with mud climbed down from the van his clothes were too heavy for the weather and he moved all wrong too purposeful too intense he strode toward the front door long and confident as if he had a purpose in here my stomach twisted as he approached and i ducked behind the curtain careful not to make a sound
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Chapter 7: How did the narrator finally confront Hannah?
i could hear him now pounding on the door the sound echoed through the hallway a hollow demanding sound that filled every empty space of the house i stayed in hiding holding my breath each knock was louder than the last as if he was determined to be let in A few seconds passed, and I looked again. He was no longer in front of the door.
My gaze followed him as he walked past the van, his direction toward the side of the house. A tendril of unease curled across my skin. Scrambling to the opposite side of the room, I stayed low, tracking his movement. He disappeared around the corner, heading out into the backyard. Crackling in my headset jolted me. It was Jake, asking how things were going.
I whispered to him, trying to explain but my words felt thin and shaky. Now the creak of the backyard gate reached my ears, followed by a metallic clatter as it swung open, my mind racing, the sliding door. My parents always forgot to lock it. I had to see what he was doing, but I couldn't let him see me.
I crept down the stairs, each step a deliberate conscious movement, in an attempt to keep the sound beneath a whisper. I could hear him, through my hiding place by the kitchen, testing the sliding door, then the thud, as if he were striking it, testing its resolve. The noise clanged through the vacant kitchen, vibrating through the atmosphere until it dropped into silence.
I crouched behind the wall, hardly daring to breathe. the minutes dragged on each second longer than the last i could hear the man muttering to himself his voice low the words indistinct i didn't dare peek not until the muttering stopped and the sounds of footsteps on the deck faded away
i slowly inched my way back up the stairs i literally snatched the headset off the hook and my hands were shaking violently as i whispered frantically to jake about what just happened he told me to stay calm watch where the man went next I moved over to the window in time to see the man standing beside his van. He wasn't leaving. He just stood there, staring at the house.
His eyes too went over every window, searching for movement, for some sign of life inside. I saw the back of his van, a rusty crowbar, a heavy chain, and a soiled tarp, haphazardly thrown into the open space. He stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the house. I remained still, my pulse pounding in my ears, praying he didn't see me. And then finally, he climbed back into the van.
The door slammed shut. The van reversed, its headlights flickering, and slowly disappeared down the road, leaving the driveway empty once again. The silence settled back into the house, only it was no longer an easy one. It was heavy and thick and bore down from all sides, like a physical thing.
I couldn't get out of my head the feeling that something fundamental had changed in the time between those knocks, and now, as he drove away. I stood at the window, watching the empty road, waiting for some, any, sign. The only sound was the soft ticking of the kitchen clock, marking off the minutes since the van had disappeared down the road.
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Chapter 8: What shocking news did the narrator receive after Hannah left?
His presence was both a relief and a chilling intrusion. He asked questions. What the man looked like, what he had done, what he drove. I replied, my voice sounding far away, as though I was telling a tale that had befallen another person. He nodded. Writing notes, his eyes straying occasionally toward the windows as though he half expected the man to reappear at any moment.
When he left, silence came back, thicker now, and filled with all that could have happened. I walked through the house, checking each lock twice, then a third time. The windows that had let the light in now felt like eyes watching me exposed and vulnerable. I moved from room to room, my gaze drifting to each shadow, every corner, as if daring something to come out.
The hours dragged on and the darkness outside seemed to press against the house. I found myself standing in the living room, staring out the front door, replaying every sound, every movement.
the van the man the way he had stared at the house vivid memories that refused to fade the crowbar the chain the tarp things that seemed to promise something much worse than a simple breaking and entering the fear stuck to me like a limpet persistent that safety was not assured eventually i dropped down on to the couch
still keeping my eyes on the door, my ears straining for any sound that didn't belong. The clock continued to tick, each second feeling like a small victory, a moment that I had managed to stay safe. But the house was different now, and I knew the fear would stay long after the night had passed.
The stranger might have gone, but his presence still lingered, etched into the walls, woven into the silence that now filled the house. I had always been the type of person who would help others, open my home to someone in need. So when Hannah called and I could tell by the quietness in her voice that something was wrong, I didn't think twice.
She had nowhere else to go, and although rumors swirled around her eviction, I wanted to believe her story. I wanted to help. she moved in on a cold winter's afternoon carrying just two bags and a tired smile and she kept thanking me again and again and i kept telling her it was no problem that we'd work it out but right from the very start things weren't quite right
The first night, I woke to hear her in the kitchen at two in the morning. The hiss of the kettle, the clink of a spoon against a mug. I pulled the blanket over my head, but the smell had wafted in, bitter and strong. When I mentioned it the next day, she looked at me, her eyes slightly unfocused, as if she couldn't remember, and shrugged. I couldn't sleep, she said.
Her voice was so quiet, almost apologetic. i let it go and the days turned into weeks and the oddities piled up i would come home from work and all the doors would be closed though i always left them open for the cats they started to hide in my room their usual playful selves now seemed wary and distant hannah spent most of her time on the couch staring out the window expressionless
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