My First Entry

Lame title, I know.

This website was created when I was searching everywhere online for a website that was not blocked by the school and their wifi administration where I could enter a true scary story for free while being anonymous. I could not find one, so I decided to start one!

If you cannot enter a story anonymously, I will be searching for a website that allows you to. If I find one, I will leave this site up with the current stories and a link to the new site, where I will have the same stories. I will be posting my own story soon, but I want this to work for everyone. So, if you have a story of any type, feel free to share!


Note: If, for some reason, the current set up does not let you be anonymous, please have someone you know who is comfortable doing so contact me, and I will revise the settings. My main concern is that the identity of the authors are 100% anonymous, so PLEASE contact me somehow if this is not the case! This will help not only you, but others who are worried about the same thing.


I Watched Myself Hunt Down My Friends

This took place while changing rooms to go to class in 6th grade. It was a small, religious private school that had grades K3 (preschool) to 8th grade. There were maybe 400 kids at the most in the school for the entire year. My grade was the smallest, having less than 25 kids (including me), so we all had the same classes together. We were walking down the hallway to the science room, I was leading everyone so I could get my usual spot next to the turtle, when I stopped for some reason. Then, I am standing in front of myself, watching myself look at the ground. I-the other me-looks up and I (not the one in my body) get very bad vibes and chills flow through my veins. I can only remember a few events during the event, one memory being tackling the gym teacher by leaping on his back, chasing some of the boys in my class/grade through the tunnel that goes between the church and the school, and I remember chasing an 8th grade boy into the gym where he began to swing a blue plastic hockey stick at me. I woke up on the hallway floor where I had stopped at the beginning of the event, and my classmates were cowering behind the teachers, who themselves looked alarmed and were standing further away from me than they would be if they had been trying to wake me up. From a few conversations I had afterwards, I learned that I had apparently pinned some boys to the floor and drooled on them. I barely remember anything, but I do remember leaning over my body’s shoulder as it tried to corner some of the students. I remember running after my body as I was watching myself catch up┬áto fleeing kids, when I’m the slowest in the grade and the other girls can outrun me. This was a religious school that had been built and rebuilt after a few fires. There had always been a school there since the nuns across the street bought the land over 300 years ago. I’m pretty sure this was a possession, but I’m not entirely sure. How could there be a possession in a school attached to a church?

The Russian Sleep Experiment

These are the facts I can remember. If you want more details, you can look at the original story, or if there is enough demand, I will edit this post.


In Germany, American soldiers are held as Prisoners of War. These Americans are offered a deal; their freedom in exchange for willing participation in an experiment. None made it home.

The soldiers were placed in a room filled with a special gas that would effect their sleeping schedule. These soldiers were told to stay awake for thirty days. They were given containers for waste, and newspaper for entertainment. There were tiny holes in the walls for observing the subjects, with microphones near.

The first five days pass without much incident, until on the fifth day, when the subjects began to try and persuade the scientists to let them go early in exchange for information about the other subjects.

Day six, one of the subjects begins to scream until his vocal cords break. No words or sentences accompany the screams, only the noises of a startled, or deeply disturbed man.

Day seven, complete silence in the test chamber. No noise at all.

Day eight, the observation holes are seemingly covered by something with a smell so bad, several scientists threw up upon entering the room where the microphones were.

On the evening of day nine, with no noise or sign that the subjects still lived, a group of armed guards escorted scientists to the sealed entrance of the test chamber. The gas was turned off as the doors opened.

Inside, the room was covered in feces, the newspapers having been shredded and plastered over the observation holes in the walls. One subject was laying dead in the floor, with similar wounds as the others who were sitting, holes in their bodies showing working organs, some having been removed. They each attacked the guards with strength beyond that which a man who had not slept in ten days should have. The entire time, each was screaming and begging for the gas to be turned back on. Once they had finally been restrained with chains, the doctors set to work on the wounds.

After careful examinations, the doctors declare the wounds to be self inflicted. When the contents of their stomachs are examined, the insides seen to be filled with their own flesh.

One subject was shot dead when he attacked in the chamber.

Another died the moment his eyes closed after being pumped with three times the amount of sleeping gas it would to kill a large farm animal.

The one with snapped vocal cords died on the operating table after writing “Keep Cutting” on a pad of paper he had been given.

The last subject managed to break out of his bonds, and kill the remaining guards and scientists, but one. The last scientist, pointing a gun at the crazed man’s chest, cries “What are you?!” The last subject calmly responds with “We are the most primal instincts of man, the creatures in the dark that you fear, the beast that comes.” The scientist then shoots him.

The Girl on Snapchat

This was recited to me by a female (we shall call her “Bella”) in my Gym class. I had just listened to the story “The Russian Sleep Experiment” (I HIGHLY recommend it), so I was asking around to see if anyone had a scary story. When it was Bella’s turn, she began to tell the story of a sleepover she had had with one other girl a few months before. They had been in Bella’s basement, and they found an Ouija Board, so they decided to try it out. They asked if there was anyone present, and who they were. The answer they got was “weska17” confused by this, the girls abandoned the board and went onto Snapchat. On Bella’s Snapchat, there was a picture of a girl in a red dress in a ballet pose, surrounded by candles. The picture was posted by someone named “Alice” seconds previously, about the time when they tossed the Ouija Board to the side. On a whim, Bella decided to log out of her account and log in as Username: Alice, Password: weska17. It worked. The only picture on the account was of the dancing girl. Bella’s friend went home, but sent a text a few hours later telling Bella that the location of the uploading of the picture was Bella’s house.

Categories not showing

Sorry if this causes confusion, but the only categories listed on the website are “Stalker” and “Announcements”. There are, in fact, MANY categories, such as:


Escape Success



Near Abduction

Near Death Experiences



Stories that I heard, and am repeating (I DO NOT claim to have written them!)



THIS IS A BLOG FOR ALL TYPES OF STORIES! I apologize if the lack of visible types is offputting at first. If you wish to submit a story, just click on the button that takes you to writing a post, and there should be a tab called “Categories & Tags”.

Happy story sharing!

The First Story

The names of people and countries have been changed for privacy reasons


I was nine years old when my parents, our dog, and I moved in to the house we had built after a year renting a house. The house we had been renting was unlucky, but that is not what this story is about. This story is about the house we moved in to and the land it is on.

The first day of elementary school (which was a block away from our new house), a girl ran up to me and said “You’re the kid who moved in to the haunted house!”. I thought she was joking, so I didn’t mention it to my parents. The neighbors, however, rarely went near the house. They would walk on the other side of the street when they walked past, and, from what I remember, only two families greeted us. The other neighbors started to be less cautious after a year.

Then, when I was ten years old, we were packing for a one week vacation. My dad had been complaining about seeing litter around the house. He found things like cigarettes, trash, and a lot of paper. There were also homeless cats at first, but they were scared by the dog and left the neighborhood. Anyways, we were packing, and our doorbell rings. One of our neighbors had a piece of paper, and said “I didn’t know you were having an open house!” I should mention that a week prior, my dad had exchanged choice words with a man we did not know who had been taking pictures of our house with a professional camera.

The slip of paper that our neighbor handed to us was a flyer saying that we were having an open house the week that we would be away for vacation. It had directions to our house from public places such as the library and school. It also had a picture that had been edited to take my dad out of the picture from when he was yelling at the guy with the camera.

My dad went to the police, where one of them asked another “Do you think John is out of jail yet?” My dad asked the elderly couple who were one of the only four people who greeted us when we moved in who John was. This is the story they told him.

Over three decades previously, a family of five had lived in a house (that we had torn down to build ours after we bought the land) on the land with a neighboring wooded area. This family had consisted of a mom, dad, two daughters, and the son who was named John. John was a bad apple, as when the dad died and the mother went to a nursing home, John and his sisters had a feud as to what would be done with the property.

The feud went on so long that John decided it was his, and he used the house and land for drugs, parties, etc. John also neglected to pay the bills and taxes, resulting in a sum so large that his sisters fled somewhere else with their husbands, and John stayed with the house. Since no paperwork had been completed and the utilities were shut off, the house was deemed “abandoned”. John continued using the now-crumbling house as a base for homeless people, drugs, and prostitutes. Keep in mind that the Catholic Christian elementary school is a block away.

Then, John is arrested for a disgusting crime. He had molested his mother in the nursing home. The home, with the land, was finally put up for sale ten years later. Then we bought the land and house.

Vacation day arrives, and my dad has convinced the police to patrol near our house very often while we are away. Nothing happens until a year later. One day, we get a check in the mail sent from someone in Germany. It was addressed to “John” for a large amount, and the address on the envelope was our house. Once again, my dad goes to the police, but this time they say that since it was an international package, there is nothing they can do. Once again, we flash forward, to when I was fourteen.

We get a knock at the door, and once again, it is the elderly couple, who simply hand us a newspaper clipping. The clipping says “Sam arrested for Swiss bank account embezzlement!” Our neighbors confirmed that “Sam” was indeed “John”. We would have let it go, but then my dad remembered we have proof of another bank account of his in Germany.

Lately, I have been receiving phone calls from an unknown number on my cellphone and the home phone. They will happen whether I am in school or asleep at two in the morning. I answered once, and I heard heavy breathing before whoever it was hung up.