Sometimes, on the longest night of the year, when the dark seems to stretch forever, something dark and sinister stirs in the shadows. The cold is biting and sharp, and the silence is thick with dread. On the night of the winter solstice, before the sun rises, terrible things awaken, waiting for the light to return… if it ever does. First, a bell calls the dead Followed by the snow hides more than secrets Finally in our last story, she waits in the dark Subscribe: https://bit.ly/subSNARLED Watch the latest: https://youtube.com/watch?playlist&list=PLlt49G0M7dfhhFe79kdPucjYzWv4CK8H1&index=1 Follow us EVERYWHERE: https://facebook.com/watchsomethingscary/ https://facebook.com/getsnarled/ https://instagram.com/wearesnarled/ https://twitter.com/wearesnarled Follow Blair: TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@blairbathory Instagram: https://instagram.com/blairbathory/ Facebook: https://facebook.com/blairbathory1 Twitter: https://twitter.com/blairbathory Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/BlairBathory About SNARLED: Your home for scary stories, from urban legends to true tales of murder, mystery and the unknown. If you have Something Scary to tell us, send it to [email protected]. More about the show! • Go to SomethingScary.com to check out the awesome Something Scary Merch. We’ve got something for everyone, from hoodies to hats to writer’s notebooks. • Do you want to connect with other people who love horror and all things Something Scary? Join our Patreon and you get members only access to our Discord. And you can chat with all the other horror lovers. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Chapter 1: What eerie tales are told on the longest night of the year?
Hi witches, I'm Blair Bathory and this is the Something Scary Podcast. Thank you so much for being here. Whether this is your first time or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week. Sometimes, on the longest night of the year, when the dark seems to stretch forever, something dark and sinister stirs in the shadows. The cold is biting and sharp, and the silence is thick with dread.
On the night of the winter solstice, before the sun rises, Terrible things awaken, waiting for the light to return, if it ever does. First, a bell calls the dead, followed by the snow hides more than secrets. Finally, in our last story, she waits in the dark. Before we get to our stories, I wanted to ask if you had checked out our brand new Something Scary Patreon Storyteller Experience.
Now you can dive even deeper into the eerie and mysterious with exclusive perks just for our storyteller fans. By joining this new Patreon tier, you'll unlock access to our monthly film club livestream with me, where we discuss horror films chosen by you. After each live stream, you'll also get exclusive behind-the-scenes access with a Q&A to answer your burning questions. But that's not all.
Storyteller Experience members will also enjoy a 20% discount on Something Scary merch and a chance to collaborate with our next spine-chilling story. Together, we'll create a terrifying tale that might just end up on the podcast. It's our way of saying thank you for being a part of this amazing community and keeping the spooky spirit alive all year round. Don't miss out.
Chapter 2: What is the significance of the winter solstice in the stories?
Join the Something Scary Storyteller Experience today for even more chills and insider treats. Head to patreon.com slash snarl to sign up now. So, wanna hear something scary? Stone Cold Hearted. Sometimes the sounds you hear in the night aren't just as innocent as the wind. Like in this story inspired by Jordan,
It was the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, and James could feel its weight pressing down on him as he sat alone in the cabin. The wind outside howled like a living thing, its cold fingers creeping through every crack in the walls. The sun had disappeared hours ago, leaving the mountains covered in a thick veil of darkness and snow.
The fire in the hearth had long since dwindled to embers, and the only light came from the pale glow of the snow reflecting the moon. James had come to the cabin to escape, to find peace away from the world. The isolation of the Smoky Mountains seemed perfect for a quiet Christmas, just him and his thoughts. But as the night deepened, he realized how wrong he'd been. The quiet wasn't peaceful.
It was suffocating. It started just after dusk, the bell. At first, James thought it was a figment of his imagination, the wind playing tricks on him. But then it rang again, low and mournful, cutting through the stillness. It wasn't the sound of wind or some distant farm bell. It was deeper, hollow, like something ancient.
He tried to ignore it, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying to focus on the flickering fire. But the bell rang again, louder this time, closer. James stood up, unease creeping through his body. The wind had died down, and the snow outside was falling in thick, heavy flakes. It should have been peaceful, but the bell's persistent toll gnawed at him, pulling him toward the door.
He stepped outside, squinting into the night. The world was a blanket of white, the snow muffling the sounds of the forest. The bell rang again, cutting through the silence like a scream. It came from deeper in the woods, beyond where the trees began to thicken. Old stories bubbled to the surface of his mind. Tales of a creature that roamed forests at night. A thing not quite human.
Eyes black as coal. Teeth that never stopped growing. A hunger that could never be satisfied. He'd heard these stories before, of course. Everyone in these parts had. But they were just stories, right? The bell rang again. James grabbed his shotgun from the closet.
It was all he had to defend himself, and though he wasn't sure if it would do any good, he wasn't about to sit around waiting for whatever this was to come closer. The forest was thick with snow, the path nearly hidden beneath the drifts. The bell continued to ring, leading him deeper into the trees.
His breath came out in visible clouds, and he trudged through the knee-deep snow, his heart pounding in his chest. The wind had died, but the silence felt oppressive, almost unnatural. The bell rang again, louder, closer. He pushed through the underbrush, every step slow and deliberate, his eyes straining for any sound beyond the ringing.
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Chapter 3: What haunting experience does James encounter in the cabin?
The thing was tall, its limbs twisted and unnaturally long. The skin was pale, stretched tight across its bones, and the air around it seemed to shimmer with a cold, unnatural fog. But it was his eyes that grabbed him, black pits where its eyes should have been, two empty voids that seemed to suck the light from everything around him.
The bell rang again, louder, and the creature tilted its head as though it could hear it too. James raised the shotgun. His finger was trembling on the trigger, but he didn't hesitate. He fired. The blast echoed through the forest, and for a moment, there was silence. The creature stood still, its head cocked to the side, as if unaffected by the shot.
The smoke from the shotgun hung in the air, but the creature did not move, did not flinch. Instead, its mouth stretched open, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth, each one more grotesque than the last. James stepped back, panic clawing at his chest. The creature stepped forward, its limbs bending unnaturally as it moved toward him.
It was fast, impossibly fast, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His heart pounded in his ears as he turned and ran. The creature's heavy footsteps were behind him, thumping through the snow like thunder. He could hear the bell ringing again, louder and closer.
and he realized it was no longer just a sound, it was part of the creature, something it carried with it, dragging him toward it. James' legs burned as he sprinted through the snow, his breath coming in short gasps. He stumbled, nearly falling, but he caught himself and kept going.
The trees blurred past him, the snow flying up around his boots, but no matter how fast he ran, he could hear the creature's footsteps behind him. always just a few steps away. Then he saw the cabin. His heart soared for a split second before the reality of his situation hit him. He was running straight toward it, but the creature was still behind him, faster than he could ever hope to be.
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Chapter 4: How does the bell signal danger in the woods?
He tried to push himself harder, but the snow was thick and his limbs were growing numb from the cold. He reached the door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the handle. The bell rang again. louder, more incessant, and in that moment the world seemed to stop. James turned, his eyes searching the dark for any sign of the creature, but the forest was silent now.
The bell had stopped, and then from behind him came a voice, a soft whisper, low and cold. He didn't need to be told twice. He yanked the door open and slammed it behind him. The cabin was dark, silent. The bell had stopped. For a moment, everything was still. And James thought, maybe, just maybe, he had escaped. But then the door rattled, shaking in its frame.
The bell started again, not from outside. No, this time it came from inside the cabin. James turned, but before he could react, the creature stepped into the room, its black eyes locked onto his. And as it took the first step toward him, the door closed behind it, locking them both in. The bell rang for the last time. Do you think you could outrun a monster in the woods? Have you had to?
Können wir. Klapp machen, ganz machen, neu machen, Mut machen, gut machen, besser machen.
Können wir.
Und Karriere machen.
Na klar, können wir. Was du aus deiner Zukunft auch machst. Wir können alles, was kommt. Das Handwerk.
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Sometimes, on the coldest nights, when the darkness is infinite, the things we fear most may come closer than we think. Written by Sarah Lukasiewicz. The snow came early that year, covering everything in a thick, quiet blanket. The time winter break started, it had already piled up outside, making the world look like still and frozen.
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Chapter 5: What terrifying creature does James face in the forest?
Jess's grandmother entered the room carrying a cup of tea. She didn't say much, but her presence was enough to shift the atmosphere. The girls, already comfortable and familiar with her stories, turned to her expectantly. Everyone except Maya.
She was new to the friend group, but the others warned her that based on previous sleepovers, Jess's grandmother told the best scary stories, stories that made them feel uneasy in the best way. She didn't waste any time. Without a word, Grandma sat down by the fire, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and began.
The story she told them wasn't one of magic or fairy tale creatures, but something older, something that felt like it had always been there. She told them about Frau Hall, the snow woman. A figure that appeared in the coldest nights of winter, around the time of the winter solstice, when the days were shortest and the darkest stretched on forever.
Frau Hall wasn't the warm, kind figure some people thought she was. She wasn't the one who made the snow fall to blanket the earth. Instead, she was a judge, a punisher. She appeared in the woods near the town, a tall woman dressed in white, her face hidden beneath her hood, and when she came, she was looking for those who had been selfish or cruel.
She would take them, dragging them into the snow, and they would vanish, never to be seen again. As Grandma spoke, the room seemed to grow colder. The fire crackled, but its warmth didn't seem to reach as far. The wind outside picked up, pressing against the windows like an unseen hand.
It was as though the very air in the house was beginning to change, and the girls, who had been laughing and joking only moments before, now felt the weight of silence settling around them. The clock on the mantel kept time, unnoticed by most of them, until one of the girls, Tara perhaps, glanced out the window.
She thought she saw someone standing at the edge of the yard, just outside the reach of the streetlight, still and unmoving. The others laughed, shaking off the uneasy feeling, but even their laughter fell hollow in the quiet room. Jessa wasn't so sure. She opened the door, looking out into the heavy snow. But there was no one there. Just the swirling storm covering everything in white.
The world beyond the door had disappeared beneath the snow, and the air felt thicker somehow, more oppressive. When she closed the door and turned back toward the others, there was a strange stillness in the room. Tara was still staring out the window, a frown on her face, her hand pressed against the glass. It was clear something was different now.
The laughter had stopped, and in its place, an uncomfortable quiet had settled in. The wind outside picked up again, louder this time, rattling the windows. The snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, like something being pressed down on them from above. The night had become something darker, something colder. Jessa looked out the window once more. This time she was certain.
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Chapter 6: Can James escape the monster's grasp?
The night stretched on, the fire burned in low in the hearth, and the house felt colder than it should have. The storm outside continued to rage, but the house, though full of people, seemed empty somehow. The air was thick with an unease none of them could explain. At some point... The girls all fell asleep, but Jessa was restless.
She woke up in the middle of the night and noticed one of the girls, Maya, was gone. Her sleeping bag was empty. The space where she had been just moments before left a vacant feeling. The others were still asleep, unaware. Jessa couldn't shake the feeling that the cold in the room was somehow tied to Maya's absence.
It felt as though the very walls were closing in on them, and there was no way out. The snow hadn't stopped. The wind hadn't stopped. The house seemed disconnected from the world outside, as if the storm had come from another place, somewhere far away. Jessa looked out the window again, her eyes drawn to the woods beyond.
There, at the edge of the trees, she could still see the figure standing, watching. Jessa couldn't shake the cold creeping through the house. Maya was gone, her sleeping bag empty, but no one had heard her leave. Jessa glanced out the window again. The figure at the edge of the woods was gone.
For a moment, she felt relief, until she turned around and saw Maya standing by the fireplace, her back to the room. Jessa whispered her name, but Maya didn't move. Snow clumps stuck to her feet, melting into puddles on the floor. Jessa's stomach sank as she noticed the trail of wet footsteps leading from the door. The wind outside rattled the windows.
The fire flicked out, sending the room into darkness. Then Jessa saw it. A tall figure stepping through the doorway, draped in white. Jessa's grandmother's voice was heard through the dark. You shouldn't have opened the door. And then everything went ice cold. By morning, the house was buried in snow and the girls were gone. Only the wind remained.
Have you ever felt something watching you just outside your window? Do you believe that the longest night of the year can bring more than just darkness? Sometimes, the quietest places hide the loudest horrors, especially in the dead of night, like in this story inspired by Schofund. In boarding school, weekends were for doing laundry.
The shared laundry room turned into a chaotic mess of buckets, clotheslines, and impatient girls. And just two weeks into the semester, I was already over it. During lunch one day, some seniors mentioned that late at night was the best time for laundry, when everyone was asleep and the washroom was deserted. But never go alone, one of them said with an intensity that lingered in my mind.
I didn't ask why, I didn't want to know. That night, I woke to the sound of the dorm door creaking open, blinking in the dim light of my bedside clock. I saw Lynn slipping out, bucket in hand, 2.50 a.m., Even without believing fully in ghosts, I'd heard the whispers about 3 a.m., the hour when the boundary between worlds thins. I told myself Lynn would be fine. She was practical, grounded.
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Chapter 7: What chilling story does Jess's grandmother tell?
We spoke briefly, catching up on life, but when I asked if she'd ever gone back to the washroom that night, her face hardened. Some places, she said quietly, aren't meant for us. I never pressed her for details. The truth was already clear. Whatever Lynn had encountered that night, it had left a mark.
She carried it with her, invisible but ever-present, like a shadow that didn't quite belong to her. And even now, all these years later, I can't help but wonder, was that girl still in the washroom, waiting for someone else to notice her missing feet? Have you ever felt something was watching you even when you were alone?
Would you continue with your task or would you leave if something in your gut told you you weren't alone? This week's podcast stories were edited by Sarah Lukasiewicz, narration by Blair Bathory, audio edited and mixed by Fitz Harris, additional audio editing by Calvin Linderman, produced by Anna Villalobos, executive produced by Gil Gilman, music by Sapphire Sindalo and Calvin Linderman.
If you have a story you'd like to submit, send me an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com. Don't forget to watch the video version of Something Scary over at youtube.com slash snarled. And if you'd like to support the show and everything we do at Snarled, join our Patreon at patreon.com slash snarled. As always, witches, thanks for joining me.
I hope you enjoyed these three original stories and safe travels this week if you're going to visit family for the holidays. I'll see you next week. Sweet screams.
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