These are 3 Scary Stories to Fall Asleep To – Creepy But CalmingLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Horror_writer_1717/https://linktr.ee/authormichaelkelsoTimestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:15:09 Story 200:38:13 Story 3Music by:'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.auhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpe
Chapter 1: What happens during the unexpected drive in a storm?
I never expected a simple drive to become the stuff of nightmares, but that was before I found myself on that forgotten stretch of highway. The plan had been straightforward. Head to Fairbridge for a last-minute work errand, then slip back home before the predicted blizzard grew teeth. By the time I passed the only gas station for miles, the snow was already thickening.
Big, heavy flakes collided with the windshield, muting the outside world into a swirling sheet of white. I kept telling myself to stay calm, but my palms stayed clammy on the steering wheel. The wipers groaned with each pass, smearing ice crystals instead of clearing them. At first I held onto a slim hope that the plows would come through, or at least that the storm wouldn't get much worse.
Within an hour, that hope died under drifts of snow. Visibility shrank until I could only see a few feet beyond the headlights. Every piece of roadside, signposts, fence lines, melted into a single endless blur. I must have driven another mile or two at a crawl before deciding I was better off stopping.
The shoulder was nearly invisible, so I edged over until I felt the tires slip into deeper snow, trusting that meant I wasn't on the main road anymore. I threw the car in park and let the engine idle, hoping it'd keep some semblance of warmth. But it didn't take long before the cold started creeping in. My breath clung to the windshield in hazy patches. Time blurred after that.
It felt like I'd been huddled there forever. My phone had maybe 10% battery and, of course, no signal. The worst part was the silence that set in once I finally killed the engine. No passing cars, no plows, not even wind-rattling branches. Just the low rumble of the storm pressing down.
I grabbed the spare blanket from the back seat and tucked it around my legs, telling myself I'd wait until morning, then try to flag down help. Then came a soft noise against the glass. Maybe sleet, I thought. But sleet doesn't scrape. It was so faint that for a second I doubted I heard anything. When it happened again, a quicker, more deliberate rasp, my pulse kicked into overdrive.
I peered through the driver's side window, but the storm was too dense to make out shapes, just shifting shadows. Minutes dragged on, the temperature dipping fast. Ice crystals formed along the base of the windshield, creeping upward. An uneasy feeling gnawed at me. Like the landscape outside wasn't just empty.
It felt occupied somehow, even though no headlights approached and no silhouettes loomed near the road. Still, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half certain I'd see something lurching toward me. A cracking sound echoed from under the car, sharp enough to jolt me. possibly just ice forming beneath the chassis. But it set my nerves on high alert.
I gripped the steering wheel, ignoring how stiff my fingers felt, and reminded myself that I just needed to last till daylight. Eventually the swirling darkness would soften into morning, and I'd have a clear way out. That's what I told myself anyway. In the moment, though, it was hard to feel comforted by any promise of dawn.
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Chapter 2: What strange noises are heard in the car?
Outside, the wind had shifted to a grating whistle through the side mirrors, as though the storm itself had grown a voice. I tried to convince myself that was the only sound in the dark. Deep down, though, I sensed something else was moving around out there. I twisted around in my seat, focusing on the back window.
Everything was a blur of frost and swirling flakes, but the shape of a shadow flickered, a large silhouette passing close, then vanishing again. My stomach went tight. I told myself it could have been a tree limb swaying, but the edges looked too defined. Then came that tapping on the trunk, light, testing, almost like it wanted to check if I was awake.
I breathed slow, hugging my arms against my chest. The air inside the car felt thinner, like it was being shared with someone, or something, standing just beyond the doors. A soft scuff came from the driver's side, too deliberate to be random snow-shifting. The handle jiggled once, twice. It set off a tiny click from the lock mechanism, and every hair on the back of my neck prickled.
a rush of adrenaline flooded through me i fumbled for the interior light switch flicking it on out of sheer desperation the overhead bulb revealed a cramped frost smeared interior and plenty of my own terror but didn't do much to illuminate the storm outside If whoever was out there saw the light snap on, they might realize I was watching. Suddenly, a noise broke the silence.
Laughter, but it sounded like a strangled imitation, forced through clenched teeth. My grip tightened on the seat so hard that my fingertips ached. I couldn't pin down where it was coming from, only that it shifted. First near the trunk, then along the passenger side. The laughter rose in pitch and died away, like an abandoned recording cutting out mid-track.
I nearly called out, but the words jammed in my throat. A part of me wanted to shout, to scare away whatever lurked out there, but I couldn't even form a full sentence. As if on cue, something heavy scraped across the roof. The car rocked slightly, enough to remind me that if it wanted to, that thing could punch through the glass or tear off a door. Minutes or maybe seconds later, time was a blur.
I heard my sister's voice. Only she was living halfway across the country, and definitely not in this snowstorm. Still, it sounded so much like her that my chest constricted. She called me by the old nickname she used when I was little. Her voice was faint, muffled by the storm, as if drifting just outside the passenger door. It couldn't be real. I knew that.
Yet it felt so wrong, like the words were borrowed from my memories. The handle on the passenger door popped up, testing the lock. My sister's voice said, Hey, open up, I'm freezing out here. A wave of dread clutched me, not just because the lock was rattling, but because it sounded almost affectionate. I stared, half expecting the handle to snap off under whatever pressure it was enduring.
The door rattled, then went still. For a moment I heard nothing but the wind. The overhead light flickered, a bulb on its last leg, casting jumpy shadows across the seats. Then came a new noise, a raking sound across the side panel, like the tip of a knife or a set of nails. Before I could move, the silhouette was at my driver's window. Its outline nearly filled the frame.
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Chapter 3: How does the eerie presence reveal itself?
Despite the adrenaline thundering through me, a sick part of my mind wanted to roll down the window, to see if that really was my sister's voice. To this day, I don't know what stopped me. Maybe a survival instinct, maybe pure shock. After what felt like forever, the shape withdrew. The noise of scraping paws or hooves, impossible to be sure which, faded to one side of the car.
My heart hammered so hard my vision blurred. For a second I thought about flinging open the door and running into the storm, but outside was a vast white maze, and that thing was out there too. Staying put seemed marginally safer. Hours bled together. The laughter returned a few times, closer and more brittle.
Once, a whisper brushed against the windshield, saying my name in a hushed, sing-song way. I huddled under the blanket and tried not to look whenever a shape slid past the windows. Eventually, in the hush that followed, I realized the storm was beginning to ease. Tiny shards of moonlight broke through the thinning clouds, casting pale streaks over the snow.
The interior light dimmed completely, leaving me in darkness. My legs were cramped, my feet numb, but I refused to move. Instead, I watched every direction as best I could, my breath coming in shallow bursts. At some point, a force dropped onto the roof. The metal groaned, pressing down just a few inches over my head.
My seatbelt jammed against my chest as I hunched down, waiting for steel to give way. When it didn't, I exhaled shakily. The pressure shifted, sliding toward the trunk, then vanished. My hearing buzzed with the aftershock. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was still there, wandering in the snow, looking for a way in. And it had learned to speak to me in voices I once loved.
I must have lost consciousness from the cold and fear. One minute, I was wedged against the driver's seat, ears trained on every bump and scrape on the roof. The next, my eyes snapped open to a milky gray dawn.
the storm had eased into a whisper of drifting flakes and a thin light was working its way through the iced windshield my body felt leaden as if all the tension of the night had settled deep into my muscles for a moment i thought i'd imagined it all-the laughter the rattling door handles that terrible silhouette Then I tried to move, and pain shot through my stiff shoulders.
The interior of my car was slick with condensation. My breath hung in a low fog. Worse still, my roof was dented inward, a few inches lower than it had been, right where something massive had put its weight. Claw-like gouges stretched across the passenger door in raw lines of paint.
seeing it in the dawn light made my stomach clench i willed myself to check outside to confirm the shape had truly gone the driver's side door resisted at first ice sealing it shut but i shouldered it hard until it popped open
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Chapter 4: What terrifying encounter occurs at the farmhouse?
Then, as I stumbled around to the back of the car, I found something that stopped me cold. A single line of deep, hoof-like impressions, elongated and too far apart to be any ordinary animal. They led away from the trunk to the treeline, then just vanished, as if whatever made them had taken off into the sky. My heart fluttered with a renewed jolt of fear.
Despite the daylight, the world felt no safer. I knew I couldn't stay, my phone was nearly dead, and the engine wouldn't start. Every creak or groan of wind had me spinning around, half sure I'd glimpse that elongated face again. So I grabbed the blanket, my phone, and what little gear I had left. Then, with my hood pulled tight, I started walking.
The snow swallowed my steps, dragging at my ankles as I forged ahead. Every few yards I had to look behind me, just to make sure nothing was following. The silence was a constant reminder of how alone I was. After what felt like hours, I crested a small slope and spotted a run-down motel and gas station, maybe a quarter mile away. Relief nearly buckled my legs.
I hurried across the lot as fast as the drifts would let me, panting, face numb. Inside the station, a startled clerk gawked at me, then rushed to fetch blankets and coffee. I tried explaining what happened, but words tumbled out in a jumbled mess of something was out there, and it wasn't human.
He looked at me the way you'd look at a person spouting ghost stories, but he still dialed the local police. When the authorities showed up, I expected skepticism, or maybe that indulgent nod you give someone who's hysterical. Instead, they listened carefully, especially when they heard about the scratches on the car.
Two officers drove out to investigate, and a few hours later, they returned looking shaken. They didn't offer me a full report, but one muttered something about unidentified prints and fur clumps around the vehicle. I caught the fearful glances they exchanged, like neither wanted to say what they really thought. The rest of the day passed in a blur of formalities.
A tow truck collected my battered car. The police advised me to get checked at a clinic for frostbite. Through it all, a single question hissed at the back of my mind. If that thing really just walked away, could it come back? I'm not sure how I made it home. My memories blur after stepping into a heated ambulance. In the days since, I've clung to the stinging memories of that night.
The laughter that mimicked loved ones. The impossible silhouette pressed against the window. The single trail of hoofprints burned into the snow. Friends keep telling me I was hallucinating from the cold. Maybe part of me wants to believe that. But I can't forget the damage done to my car. Or how the officers seemed rattled by whatever they discovered in the fresh drifts.
I share my story now because I need to, in the hopes that it'll finally shake loose the knots in my mind. Believe me or don't, I know it all sounds absurd, but if you ever find yourself traveling roads swallowed by a blizzard, checking that rearview mirror and seeing shapes that just don't make sense, do me a favor.
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Chapter 5: How does the narrator escape the creature?
Everything inside me screamed run, but I was frozen. Finally, I forced myself into action, thumb jabbing at the phone's keypad. When the dispatcher answered, my voice came out shaky. I rattled off bits about something in the field, a monstrous shape made of bones and horns. And halfway through, the operator's tone shifted from polite concern to an odd calm, like she'd heard this story before.
i almost asked if i'd dialed the right number but then the call simply dropped no warning no crackle of static just dead silence staring at the phone in disbelief i redialed nothing not even a ring i glanced at the curtains again regretting my choice instantly The creature was moving closer, crossing more of the meadow.
My old sedan was parked on the far side of the yard, but if I tried to sprint for it, I doubted I'd even make it halfway before that thing caught me. It almost seemed to relish closing the gap, as if it wanted me to see it coming. A low thud from the front porch jolted me out of my stunned haze. My entire body braced itself as a second impact rocked the door.
Dust trickled from the frame, and the hinges groaned under the assault. That door was old, the kind of heavy wood I once thought was secure. A new wave of horror rolled over me when I realized it probably wouldn't hold against this unnatural force. I gripped a kitchen knife on the counter, though how a bit of sharpened steel would help was beyond my imagination.
the next strike against the door threatened to rip it from its hinges my thoughts blurred fear fueling every frantic breath should i hide run fight none of it felt right but i had maybe seconds to decide That next collision, broke something in the door, sounded like an entire panel caving in. My pulse thundered in my ears.
My mind shot through possible exits, or maybe barricades, but the hammering grew louder, more insistent. I pressed my back to the far wall of the hallway, mustering whatever courage I had left. The house seemed way too small now, like there was nowhere safe to go. By the time I heard wood splinter, and saw a hint of that pale horror through the crack...
i'd already chosen my only real option the basement it might buy me time maybe it'd lose track of me or the locked door down there would last a few extra moments tightening my hold on the knife i threw myself down the stairs not daring to look behind me the ramming noise thundered again echoing through the house My hands scrambled for the basement door handle, yanking it shut.
A flimsy lock clicked into place. I stood there in the darkness, shoulders trembling, waiting to see if the door would hold. Above me the front entrance gave way entirely, letting in something that should not exist, and all I could do was wait. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stood on the basement steps, hand clenched tight around the flimsy lock.
The thuds from above left no room to doubt the thing had fully broken through the front door. Every impact jarred the entire frame of my old farmhouse. It was like the house itself shuddered in pain. For a moment, I just froze there, hoping, praying, it might lose interest. No such luck.
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Chapter 6: What happens after the fire at the farmhouse?
Oil sputtered from the intake valve, spraying the floor. Panic welded my feet to the spot. One more good hit and the tank might tip. Sure enough, the monster pounded again. A deafening clang jolted me so hard I nearly lost my grip on the knife. The tank lurched sideways, tearing free of its brackets. Oil poured out in a fresh torrent, spattering the floor and me.
A ring of dark liquid expanded around the base. My eyes darted to the old furnace, half dreading, half expecting the pilot flame to flicker in the corner of my vision. With a horrible inevitability, I heard the furnace click, a whoosh as it cycled on.
A spark must have leaped into the oil fumes, because in a heartbeat, orange flames burst along the slick floor, racing toward the thrashing creature.
a guttural screech tore from its skeletal jaws echoing off the walls fire coiled up its legs igniting the rags of fur and hide in an instant the basement was a nightmare of swirling flames and choking black smoke adrenaline surged and i scrambled backward brandishing the knife even though I had no clue how a mere blade would help.
The beast flailed, a living torch lurching toward me, swiping at the air with elongated arms. One claw snagged my sleeve, ripping through fabric and raking my flesh. Pain blazed at my side. I staggered backward, tears stinging my eyes from the mix of agony and smoke. Somehow I found my feet and lunged for the stairs.
The staircase swayed under each step, and with the basement filling rapidly with acrid smoke, I had to keep low. The creature shrieked behind me, and a burst of sparks shot up as it crashed into the furnace. Sheets of flame blossomed out, burning so hot it singed my hair. I clutched the railing, half blind, and stumbled onto the main floor with a gasp that was equal parts relief and terror.
Through the haze I could see my front entry, what was left of it. Flames danced wildly in the basement opening, and blackened bits of debris littered the hallway. Fire crawled up the walls, and the stench of smoke overpowered every other smell. There was no time to plan. I bolted for the front yard, heart galloping in my chest, the sound of that creature's tortured howling locked in my ears.
I burst through the shattered doorframe, hacking out coughs, the cool outside air feeling like salvation. The house behind me glowed with flickering firelight, an orange beacon of destruction against the morning sky. My hands trembled, side-burning, but I was alive, at least for the moment. I only paused long enough to glance back at the threshold, that sense of dread still clinging to me.
Somewhere under the roar of flames, I heard another unearthly shriek echo up from the basement. I didn't wait to see if it would emerge. I staggered into the yard, stumbling toward my car, convinced the nightmare was far from over. The last glimpse I caught of my basement was an inferno devouring everything in its path.
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Chapter 7: How does the narrator cope with the aftermath?
I replayed every terrifying second, heart racing like I was still in the thick of it. Unable to sleep, I booted up my phone. The 911 call log was blank, no record of a dropped call. Desperate for an explanation, or maybe just validation, I opened the Reddit app, found a horror-themed forum, and started typing my ordeal in frantic detail.
Every battered nerve insisted that no one would believe me, but I had to do it. If there was someone else out there who'd seen something like this, I needed to know. Or maybe I just needed to purge the memory from my system. I spent the night refreshing the page, but exhaustion won. By the time dawn light seeped through the thin curtains, I'd finally drifted off, phone clutched in my hand.
When I woke, my notifications tab blinked, loaded with replies. Some comments were jokey or outright dismissive, but a few stood out. One person mentioned an ancient legend of a horned skeleton figure roaming deep forests, haunting those who trespass on certain land. Another user claimed to have spotted something similar near an abandoned mine shaft in a nearby county.
attaching a blurry photo of a gangly silhouette by twisted trees. My heartbeat hitched. Even though it was out of focus, there was no mistaking those elongated limbs. For a second I felt a shred of relief. I wasn't alone in this. The next second brought a fresh wave of dread, thinking about the possibility that thing was still out there.
My phone buzzed with a direct message from the user with the photo. They asked if I wanted to go check that mine shaft, maybe gather real proof. I nearly threw the phone across the room, absolutely not. I grabbed a coffee from the motel lobby, forcing down the stale bitterness while my mind spun. The remnants of my house, and whatever lurked there, were still smoldering in Oak Ridge Valley.
The authorities would find nothing but ash and cinders. part of me itched to go back to confirm the remains of that monstrosity were scattered among the ruins the smarter part insisted i leave well enough alone there was no sense risking my life for closure later that afternoon the sheriff called me with a measured tone reporting the fire had destroyed everything but the stone foundation
No human remains turned up, no animal carcass either. I hung up, hands quivering. Relief and fear warred in my gut. If the monster died, it left no trace. If it lived, it was invisible now. That night, I packed my car with every possession I had left, which wasn't much. I took the highway toward a friend's place in another state.
My side ached with every mile, a dull reminder that something impossible had nearly ended me. Yet I kept going, eyes fixed on the horizon. It wasn't until I crossed the county line that I finally exhaled. A few weeks passed. The wound on my side slowly healed, but my night stayed restless.
Each new evening, I checked my Reddit thread, reading stories from people who'd seen vaguely similar beasts or heard tales from older relatives. Maybe half of them were jokes or fictions, but some had too much in common to discount. Over time, fear shifted into a grim understanding. These nightmares weren't as rare as anyone would hope.
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