Halloween Stories

A collection of spooky stories written by teachers and students. 

Spooky Stories

Parchment

Before I could finish, Randy pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a gun. 8 Bullets. Loaded. “Wo wo wo, Calm down. This doesn't need to get violent.” I said, trying to reassure, still wondering how this escalated.  Suddenly, He Fired 5 shots. But they weren’t just bullets. It was something else, much harder and deadly. I tried to run, but a shot ran through my heel. I dropped at the pain. I clenched my foot. He pursued towards me, now holding it at my face. I closed my eyes. But nothing happened. I opened my eyes. He was gone. I looked around. Nowhere in sight. I heard rustling from my right. Just a raccoon. I steadied myself up and limped back to the place. I sat down at my desk. What was that? Was that actually Randy? Where’d he go? I tried to look outside. Nothing.  	Just then a hand hit the window. I jumped. I clinched on to my table. The hand had splashes of blood, moving it around, now dirtying my window. I heard a knock on the door. My mind started to race. My heart is beating faster than a drum roll. The thing started to try and unlock the door. Good thing I locked it. It stopped. I thought it was over. I tried to breathe it out. In and out. In and out.

Just then, the door broke, landing on the ground, revealing a long, thin, tan monster. It came in turning its head repeating “Let’s play.”. I slowly walked backwards, feeling for my gun. “You want to play, fine let’s play.” I stated. I pulled out my gun to reveal one bullet still in it. I shot, aiming right for the heart. The pop of the gun shot me and him back. I got up, hoping he had died, only to find him still alive. I needed to get another bullet, but how. Then I remembered the bullet that shot me. I saw it in a cowboy movie, the sheriff got shot in the hand, took the bullet out and shot it again to kill the wrangler. It might just work. Besides, this thing is so big, it could eat me in one serving, so I’ll take my chances. I felt for the bullet, and peeled it out. I yelped in pain but I knew what I needed to do. The thing got closer, almost hovering over me. I clocked it in,  and pulled it up to his chest. He opened his mouth, at my hair.

Paper texture

I'm going to write all this down so people can know what happened to me. So let me start at the beginning. Me and my daughter were planning to go explore and go in the woods. My daughter likes going out into the wilderness and watch the stars and look for new leaves or plants. We always go to the same spot. My daughter likes that spot, for some reason. My daughter says she likes it because she can see her dad. Her dad died when she was born. My daughter says he's tall. And he's really nice, she says. I say, well how do you know that. And she says, he's right next to us …

Light wood

The alarms blared, lights flashed, screams of fellow guards echoed through the halls. I think he escaped. He was the most dangerous person in the whole asylum. We had to keep him in a sensory deprivation tank to keep him calm. We hooked him up to life support to keep him alive. He killed 52 people before he was caught. He was a cannibal, that’s all he did to survive, Kill. I heard my friend, Weslee Bowman, scream in terror. I ran for the exit door. I hopped in my Mustang and drove off. Or at least until I felt something thud on the tires of my car. I looked into the mirror to see Garland Aston, the warden on the road behind me. I screeched to a halt. I went to check on him. But he said, “Run. Save yourself,” in a raspy voice. Then Fraco Dennis (which was apparently his name) lunged at me. I dodged him but I needed to get to the car. It had been idling so I hopped in and drove off when he hopped on the back of my car. He smashed my back window. “My insurance ain’t gonna cover this,” I whined. I swerved but he had a strong hold. Then I slammed the brakes hard and then drove. He fell off the car. I drove off from the blaring asylum. I hoped I wasn’t going to see it again…

Chalkboard

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“BOOM!!” The gun fired. I looked up. It was struggling on the ground in front of me. I ran to my desk, and found my pocket knife. I pulled it up, ready to stab him. But something was happening. It was like it was…shrinking. A popping noise and smoke filled the room. I waved it out of the way to see what happened. There right in front of me was Randy Vesly. He groaned as he sat up. “Randy!” I yelled. I was gonna give him a hug, But then I remembered. I have to be professional. I pulled him up from the ground, and shook his hand. 	“What happened.” He exclaimed. I looked around for an answer. “How about a drink?” I asked. “You know I’m just gonna get water, Right?” Randy asked. I smiled. He did the same. We walked out, heading to my car. “Glad to have you back, Randy.” I said. “Where did I go?” He joked. “Nothing, Just a bit crazy.” I said. “I’m glad you got me back.” He said. “Me too,” I said. “Me too,”

The Moon glimmered in the sky. The dark streets gleamed with street lamps, every other one flickering. Steam from the half-broken air conditionings fill up the alley. It’s cold tonight, I can see my own breath. I just closed the door to my private eye business, Werning’s Privite Investigators. Solved 200 mysteries, not one closed. I have a tingle in my stomach, that sweat behind my ear. Something’s about to go wrong. I turn around to someone standing there. Gray suit and pants, black shoes, red tie and a white fedora. “What’s up Jimmy?” He calls out. Then I realized, It’s my partner, Randy Vesly. 	 “Not much, just closed up shop. Whatcha doin’ out here Randy?” I ask as I start to approach him. 	 “I’m just waiting on you. You said you’d buy me a shot.” He recalled. 	 “I don’t remember saying that,” I say. And I wouldn't've.  1: Randy went home early today. Said he was sick. 2: He doesn't drink. Went to a bar and asked for water. This is the moment I knew something was wrong. And I saw it. He looked up and I saw blood shot red. But more deadly. “Randy! Yo-”

It's so funny how fast fire can spread. One minute you’re playing with your friends, the next you’re set ablaze. The flames engulfed the orphanage in minutes, with no escape. Inside felt like the face of the sun, the smoke blinding our every exit. It burned, until there was nothing left to burn. Everything was ashes, crumbling at the slightest movement. So many things were charred, there was broken glass everywhere and splintered wood scattered across the property. All that lived was a small doll in the courtyard, and the souls trapped inside the scorched abode. Years later, it was rebuilt. So many children without a home could come to one. But the children from the past were still there. One thing about spirits is that they will always remember their death. It will seem as if it happens everyday for them. They always stick close to where they died, and typically are violent within reason. “The crispy kids”, as the town calls them, would kill the orphans. To them, if they couldn’t have a home, no one could. The only way to get rid of them once and for all was to figure out what kind of ghost they are, find their motive, and then banish or kill them once again. So when the first few children went missing, the orphanage knew who to call.  (Inspired by Anna dressed in blood and Phasmophobia. Recommend both!)

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