I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”
The doctors told the amputee he might experience a phantom limb from time to time. Nobody prepared him for the moments though, when he felt cold fingers brush across his phantom hand.
I can’t move, breathe, speak or hear and it’s so dark all the time. If I knew it would be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead.
Don’t be scared of the monsters, just look for them. Look to your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, in your closet but never look up, she hates being seen.
I woke up to hear knocking on glass. At first, I though it was the window until I heard it come from the mirror again.
They celebrated the first successful cryogenic freezing. He had no way of letting them know he was still conscious.
She wondered why she was casting two shadows. Afterall, there was only a single lightbulb.
It sat on my shelf, with thoughtless porcelain eyes and the prettiest pink doll dress I could find. Why did she have to be born still?
The grinning face stared at me from the darkness beyond my bedroom window. I live on the 14th floor.
There was a picture in my phone of me sleeping. I live alone.
I just saw my reflection blink.
Working the night shift alone tonight. There is a face in the cellar staring at the security camera.
They delivered the mannequins in bubble wrap. From the main room I begin to hear popping.
You wake up. She doesn’t.
She asked why I was breathing so heavily. I wasn’t.
You get home, tired after a long day’s work and ready for a relaxing night alone. You reach for the light switch, but another hand is already there.
My daughter won’t stop crying and screaming in the middle of the night. I visit her grave and ask her to stop, but it doesn’t help.
Day 312. Internet still not working.
You start to drift off into a comfortable sleep when you hear your name being whispered. You live alone.
I kiss my wife and daughter goodnight before I go to sleep. When I wake up, I’m in a padded room and the nurses tell me it was just a dream.
I needed to quickly run a SQL command to update a single row in an Oracle DB table at work. To my horror, it came back with “–2,378,231 rows affected.”
You’re laying in bed and with your feet dangling out of the covers. You feel a hand grab your feet.
The funeral attendees never came out of the catacombs. Something locked the crypt door from the inside.
My wife woke me up last night to tell me there was an intruder in our house. She was murdered by an intruder 2 years ago.
“Mesa called Jar-Jar Binks. Mesa your humble servant.”
I was having a pleasant dream when what sounded like hammering woke me. After that, I could barely hear the muffled sound of dirt covering the coffin over my own screams.
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door.
After working a hard day I came home to see my girlfriend cradling our child. I didn’t know which was more frightening, seeing my dead girlfriend and stillborn child, or knowing that someone broke into my apartment to place them there.
You hear your mom calling you into the kitchen. As you are heading down the stairs you hear a whisper from the closet saying “Don’t go down there honey, I heard it too.”
I was stoned. And Taco Bell was closed.
I never go to sleep. But I keep waking up.
Nurse’s Note: Born 7 pounds 10 ounces, 18 inches long, 32 fully formed teeth. Silent, always smiling.
She went upstairs to check on her sleeping toddler. The window was open and the bed was empty.
The longer I wore it the more it grew on me. She had such pretty skin.
“I can’t sleep” she whispered, crawling into bed with me. I woke up cold, clutching the dress she was buried in.
You hear the scream across the hallway, but your eyes won’t open and you can’t move.
Being the first to respond to a fatal car accident is always the most traumatic thing I see as a police officer. But today, when the crushed body of the little dead child boy strapped in his car seat opened his eyes and giggled at me when I tried to peel him out of the wreckage, I immediately knew that today would be my last day on the force.
I looked out my window. The stars had gone away.
I always thought my cat had a staring problem, she always seemed fixated on my face. Until one day, when I realized that she was always looking just behind me.
The pairs of emaciated eyes outnumber the single round in my gun. With pleading tears falling on her doll’s hair, I point the barrel at my last surviving daughter.
Write your own creepy ass two sentence story in the comments. We can do a Thought Catalog Commenters’ Scary Ass Stories version.