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Terrifying Halloween Stories

Updated on February 5, 2017
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Asher Socrates is a publisher of media and rich internet content. He has a vast knowledge in Business, Health, Green Tech, Art & Recreation

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Scary Halloween Stories

Welcome ghouls, goblins, zombies and witches! You have found the most Terrifying Halloween story around. If you enjoy reading scary stories and unsolved mysteries you have come to the right place. This is the Legend of the Black Forest, It's a real favorite with the local folks. i hope you enjoy the reading ahead because its about to get really scary!

The Night Falls On The Black Forest

Dark and dangerous goblins lurk in the dark cold fog. Reading Part l.

Welcome to Emerson County, home to the Black Forest and the legends that surround it. The legend involves something strange, demon pygmies or maybe goblins, which ate people. They live hidden in forbidding forest and kill all those who trespass. People have vanished into the forest, never to be seen again, for the Black Forest is a giant maze that goes for miles, entangled with fog filled trees and thick, tall brush.

Compasses and navigation devices don’t work in The Black Forest, and those who enter have no chance of getting out. You may not believe it, since the legends of the Black Forest seem like stories to frighten the local folk, but I do.

"At least, that's how the legend goes, and that is why I thought this story was imaginary. Last Halloween, I found out how wrong I was...”

My name is Blake Evans. Last Halloween, my friends and I took our annual camping trip, just outside the Black Forest. It has been our little tradition since High School. So there we were: Jack, Matt, Carley, Madison, and me, making our way down to our favorite camping spot. We got there just before sunset; after dinner, which was a feast of hot dogs and potato chips, I began to share an old ghost story as we huddled around the blazing camp fire. The legend of an old woman who lived in the Black Forest hundreds of years ago, who still walks the forest as a ghost searching for the unwary and lost.

As I pause, we could hear whispering voices echoing from the darkness of the trees beyond the circle of light cast by our campfire. The whispers were impossible to ignore for they seemed to be getting closer and louder. Our eyes met in quick, darting glances, each wondering who was going to be brave enough to get up and investigate the mysterious sounds. Jack suddenly jumped up, flashlight in hand, and started towards the Black Forest, and the whispers.

I grabbed my flashlight and hurried after Jack into the gloom. As we entered the forbidding darkness under the trees, the whispering stopped. “How odd,” murmured Jack, peering into the fog.

Walking slowly, our footsteps noisy with rustling leaves and crackling twigs, we made our way deeper into the murky fog. Icy chills shivered their way down our spines, but we pretended bravery, for each other. I tried to tease Jack by whispering, “Look out, there is someone behind you,” but Jack only rolled his eyes. We could still hear the girls and Matt back at camp, giggling at us, while Jack and I explored the gloomy darkness.

Continued Reading Part I.

It wasn’t long before I started to get the creeps. I could feel a presence, malignant and sinister. The trees looked dead; gnarled and twisted, black shapes against the fog. They were also huge,and only got bigger as we ventured deeper into the forest. It was terrifying; and yet, I still had seen nothing and was feeling a bit more confident. Looking back now, Jack and I should have taken more precautions, we should have done things differently; but now I’m getting ahead of myself.

I wish we had kept our camp in sight at all times, because after a while, we couldn’t hear Matt, Carley or Madison. "Hey Jack, I can't see the fire anymore." I announced suddenly, my stomach clenching in fear. We stopped and turned back the way we had come; the fire had vanished entirely into the gloomy darkness."Great. This is just great." I grumbled. Jack decided that we would walk back the same way we came. After a good twenty minutes of backtracking, we still couldn’t see our campsite. I worried that we had been walking in circles; the look on Jack’s face mirrored my fears. We begin to yell for help, calling to our friends to help us get out, but we heard nothing. Our voices did not seem to echo through the trees, it was like something was blocking us from being heard.

On and on, we walked, hoping to see the reassuring glimmer of firelight through the trees. I began to worry that someone was following us. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a crash echoed in the forest, causing us both to jump. "Was that the wind?" I asked Jack, but I knew it couldn’t have been the wind, I felt no breeze; saw no leaves dancing. "Or… maybe it was an animal." I added nervously. "Maybe!" Jack replied doubtfully, peering behind us, toward the mysterious noise. Up ahead, the fog swirled. “What is that?” I moaned to Jack. I could see blurry shadows of black figures roaming in the distance. The shadows were milling aimlessly through the forest. "Shh! Don't move, don’t talk." whispered Jack, clapping a hand over my mouth. The sound of eerie voices began to echo again; I sank down to the forest floor, accidentally snapping a branch as I sat, the sharp report echoing loudly through the trees. The shadow figures in the distance froze for a moment.

We would never forget what happened next. The ghostly shadows turned as one, looking in our direction. Eyes the color of flames glowed, too many to count. Jack, who had been barely keeping it together since we lost track of the campfire, was starting to hyperventilate. I kept insisting that it was only animals, but now even I was unsure what they could be. We turned and ran.

Continue Reading The Night Falls On The Black Forest Part II.


Black Forest Video - Super Scary Beware!

Night Falls On The Black Forest Continued

Part II

We crashed through the underbrush; the sound of the voices followed us every step of the way. The sound of our running footsteps made whatever we saw fade back into the darkness. As we slowed back down to catch our breaths we were both shaking in horror.

As I tried to pull myself together, I could swear that I smelled smoke from a campfire! "What is it?” Jack asked, as I looked around. "Hey, shine your light over there,” I replied. It can't be; we were standing in the middle of our camp. The campfire was smoldering, as if it had a bucket of water thrown on it. The camping gear had been tossed all over the place. Matt, Carly and Madison were nowhere to be seen. "There it is again! That is no animal!" That echoing whisper of voices had surrounded us again. I could see the glowing eyes in the distance. "What the hell is it?" yelled Jack! "I, I, I don't know what it is!” I stammered, practically vibrating in terror. Then it began…harsh, wicked chuckling, that seemed to come from everywhere at once, and the crunch of footsteps.

That's when I saw a clear glimpse of one of them. It was nude, leprous grey skin covered with black veins; it looked no bigger than a child, but no child had glowing, lidless eyes. They lurked in the gloom all around us. "Show yourself." I demanded, trying for confidence, but sounding almost petulant. The laughter continued; a bush shook and the footsteps stopped. Jack threw a rock at the bush; the laughter immediately stopped and Jack looked happy with himself. The same rock was thrown back at him, nailing him hard in the chest, winding him. As he stumbled to the ground, terrified and breathless, I turned back to the bush. The laughter started again, only more hysterical, louder than ever. They were definitely toying with us. Slowly I turned to check on Jack, but "Where did he go?" My voice was barely more than a sigh.

My terror was starting to get the better of me now. Jack had vanished without a trace! He was just… gone. "What do you want from me?” I screamed in panic. A voice, strident and sharp,spoke in language I had never heard before. “Where is he?" I demanded again, my own voice growing stronger now as I looked for the mysterious voice. “Where are Jack and the others?” All of sounds of footsteps and voices stopped, all I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

I began to run; out of the forest, past our camp, heading for the field where we had left my truck. When I reached my truck I stopped, hand on the door handle, to catch my breath. I assumed that I was safe now, out of reach of whatever it was that haunted the forest.

Decayed breath touched the back of my neck; behind me waited a woman! A tattered, grimy dress flutters in an unfelt breeze, her eyes glowed a sickly green, and in her arms were the heads of all my friends: Jack, Matt, Carly, and Madison.

Then she spoke, in a creaking whisper; telling me that her children had found these playmates. “They told me that they wanted to play with you to.” She dropped Jack’s head and reached for me, blood glistening on her fingers. In the distancefootsteps come running and glowing eyes peek from behind the bushes; childish giggles echo across the field. “They don’t want you to leave. No one leaves the Black Forest!” Her words become a scream, and I can see them all now, surrounding my truck.

I dove into my truck and slammed the door closed, locking it. I tried to start the engine, but it only stuttered.

The black shadows started scratching at the windows, leaving bloody fingerprints all over the glass. I realized I could see the steering wheel; the night sky was glowing with the light of sunrise! The fog and night began to melt away as daylightreplaced the implacable darkness of night. As I watched in my rear view mirror, the ghost and the children faded back into the darkness of the woods. Then I tried the engine again and this time it roared to life; I did not stop driving until I was far from the forest. I watched the rearview mirror to see if

anything followed me, but all I could see were a few lingering wisps of fog.

Well now, old Sam Gibb, he don’t believe in ghosts. Not one bit. Everybody in town knew the old log cabin back in the woods there was haunted, but Sam Gibb just laughed whenever folks talked about it. Finally, the blacksmith dared Sam Gibb to spend the night in the haunted log cabin. If he stayed there until dawn, the blacksmith would buy him a whole cartload of watermelons. Sam was delighted to accept because watermelon was Sam's absolute favorite fruit. He accepted the dare at once, packed some matches and his pipe, and went right on over to the log cabin to spend the night.

Sam went into the old log cabin, started a fire, lit his pipe, and settled into a rickety old chair with yesterday's newspaper. As he was reading, he heard a creaking sound. Looking up, he saw that a gnarled little creature with glowing red eyes had taken the seat beside him. It had a long, forked tail, two horns on its head, claws at the ends of its hands, and sharp teeth that poked right through its large lips.

"There ain't nobody here tonight except you and me," the creature said to old Sam Gibb. It had a voice like the hiss of flames. Sam's heart nearly stopped with fright. He leapt to his feet.

"There ain't going to be nobody here but you in a minute," Sam Gibb told the gnarled creature. He leapt straight for the nearest exit - which happened to be the window - and hi-tailed it down the lane, lickety-split. He ran so fast he overtook two rabbits being chased by a coyote. But it wasn't long before he heard the pounding of little hooves, and the gnarled creature with the red eyes caught up with him.

"You're making pretty good speed for an old man," said the creature to old Sam Gibb.

"Oh, I can run much faster than this," Sam Gibb told it. He took off like a bolt of lightning, leaving the gnarled creature in the dust. As he ran passed the smithy, the blacksmith came flying out of the forge to see what was wrong.

"Never mind about them watermelons," Sam Gibb shouted to the blacksmith without breaking his stride.

Old Sam Gibb ran all the way home and hid under his bed for the rest of the night. After that, he was a firm believer in ghosts and spooks, and he refused to go anywhere near the old cabin in the woods.

The End

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    • profile image

      John c. 4 months ago

      There should be real werewolves instead of just stories especially where I live werewolf stories should never be fake so if you find any real evidence that werewolves are around let me know.

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 23 months ago from Los Angeles, CA

      I've been working hard on the new revision to my creative story. I hope everyone is liking the changes!

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 23 months ago from Los Angeles, CA

      Thank you, I'm happy you like it! I do have a strong and powerful spirit from the mindful meditation I do to heal the body and soul and other things. I like boxing and kick boxing. Anything that keeps my blood moving, I have great interest in.

      Trust me, you and I are much alike. I've been criticized in many art and design classes, by Art directors and every other minion you could imagine. Writing is a bizarre form for me, because I think in pictures.

      I'm not like most who think in numbers and words with a very calculating outcome. This place helps me widen my creativity and views.

      The main reason, I' have stayed here with this very talented community is that, I'm hopeful that it finds its way through the nasty claws of the C.I.A ruined Google Corp. who is helping kill our freedoms of speach and Internet every second. This year will be the big closing deal for everyone. And another reason I've become active here again.

      Sharing my views and knowledge here with you as well as networking with awake minds. Thats what this is all about!

      I really enjoy your point of views and the way you think. The way you express yourself and your opinions. "Along with that humor!"

      Your advice is very valuable and I hope the millinials are listening. The road you've been down has built such a strong structure for you with your educational path. That's how the real world was. Today its a completely different time with such intentional confusion and corrupted, compartmentalized systems world wide.

      It's a pleasure connecting with you, and I hope this is a strong long term friendship!

    • rjbatty profile image

      rjbatty 23 months ago from Irvine

      Jupiter Justice (love that name). You have the spirit of a boxer, and you'll need that if you want to continue writing. Suggestion: enroll in a writing class. Man, if you want to be crucified, there's nothing like being a member of a writing class.

      I've gone through this territory, and it's a tough thing to have your work torn to shreds. But the honest reactions to a prized story can be humbling (to say the least). Other would-be writers can be devastating. Having your nose broken repeatedly does in the end have the effect of making one hardened and serves as a kind of impetus to make your stuff better.

      Sometimes we just have to offer ourselves up as punching bags. The pain of being critiqued to death makes a writer more agile. And by being in a class, you also get to hear what others have on their template, which gives you a sense of your own standing.

      It's interesting to listen to the stories of others -- some will be outstanding and others seem better suited for a life-long career at Wal-Mart. My early work was really bad shit. Well, we all have to begin somewhere.

      Initially, I wanted to become a comic book artist. I showed some promise as a graphic artist. Almost effortlessly, I kept earning "A" marks, but I wasn't satisfied. It could take me weeks to complete a single painting assignment. That didn't bother me. I enjoyed what I was doing but felt I could communicate much more via the written language.

      A single picture may be worth 1,000 words, but I felt I had 100,000 words cooking inside me. So I jumped ships (for better or worse). What killed my pursuits as an artist was junior college. I had to put in more hours in order to meet enrollment requirements. I thought this was unfair. But even worse was the fact that I had to go through the whole process of taking elementary level classes in how to draw, how to paint -- and I came from a high school that was way ahead of all this.

      Going through long classes at an elementary level felt like a giant leap backwards, and I was bored to death. So I switched my major from art to English. I wouldn't wish an English major on a broke-dick dog. You have to read so much crap -- or otherwise recognized as classic English literature -- that you end up wanting to vomit.

      It wasn't until I finally got into my senior years and was finally allowed to read more modern fiction that I began to see any light inside this seemingly endless tunnel of darkness. I never excelled in writing essays that might come at the conclusion of a class. Sometimes I nailed it but more often I was extemporising because I hadn't even bothered to read the necessary text. Happily, I got accepted into UCLA's very limited/exclusive writing program. Finally, once again I found my grade point average climb.

      So, I wouldn't encourage or necessarily discourage anyone from writing. If you have a proclivity that directs you to communicate via fiction, God help you. Writing is a really tough job. It's lonely and mostly thankless. Writing can be like masturbation. If it feels good, you just go on and on, like how much room I'm taking in your space.

      Do I regret switching majors and attempting to become an author? Yes and no. I managed to eek out a living as a technical writer -- something else I wouldn't wish on a broke-dick dog. But the career paid pretty good bucks and taught me a great deal about punctuation. That's supposed to be humorous, but I'm not really skilled in this area.

      If I were placed into a position of advisement, I'd steer young people away from the humanities unless their objective was no higher than becoming a teacher -- ladeling out the same old shit year after year. I think the only thing worse than being an unpublished writer is being a teacher. I hated becoming a technical writer but I think teaching is an even worse fate.

      So, I'd encourage young people to learn how to write code and forget about any aspirations of becoming an author. That reflects my experience. But I'm just this jaded old guy, so don't allow me to interfere with your personal ambitions.

      So, Jupiter, I don't mean to rain on your parade, and I wish you all the luck in the world. Becoming a published author is equivalent to wanting to be a Hollywood star. Very, very few make it.

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 23 months ago from Los Angeles, CA

      Thanks very much for critiquing me. It does need work, I must agree with @rjbatty. I appreciate your honesty and writing skills as well. This will get the attention it deserves at some point soon. All the recommendations offered here will be considered and greatly appreciated. Asher

    • rjbatty profile image

      rjbatty 23 months ago from Irvine

      Kahleen: I'm truly amazed by your offering praise here. I know you to be a tough customer, so I don't get your encouraging this "writer." If your comments are geared to this man's ability to write receipe material, okay, but come on -- his fiction writing stinks to high heaven, and we have to be honest about that -- for his sake. Even with a "good editor" I see no evidence of him being a skilled storyteller. I believe in supporting Hub writers but this support includes being harshly honest at times. I can only assume you were drunk when you left your comment.

    • Kathleen Cochran profile image

      Kathleen Cochran 23 months ago from Atlanta, Georgia

      You've done a great job putting together a HOD-worthy hub with a little help from a good editor. We all need one. You've already carved out a niche for yourself with your hubs. You will do well here.

    • rjbatty profile image

      rjbatty 23 months ago from Irvine

      You are better off writing about food and forget about becoming a fictionalist. I read your Halloween story and it wasn't a great display of talent.

      If you want, we can take that rebuke offline, and I'll show you the obvious errors. I'm not trying to be cruel, but as someone who has studied fiction writing for a long time, I think I'm qualified to point out the errors in your writing.

      I wouldn't offer this kind of critique to everyone, but you seem to be an earnest guy with a passion for writing. You possess a vivid imagination but lack the skills of putting your thoughts into mind-grabbing text.

      I hope I'm not being too blunt. I'm not trying to offend you.

    • tamarawilhite profile image

      Tamara Wilhite 23 months ago from Fort Worth, Texas

      Good Halloween stories.

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 4 years ago from Los Angeles, CA

      @tonybonura: Thanks, TonyB

    • profile image

      Bartukas 4 years ago

      Great stories

    • tonybonura profile image

      Tony Bonura 5 years ago from Tickfaw, Louisiana

      This is a very entertaining lens. I really enjoyed visiting here and reading your stories.


    • profile image

      kelsey-christensen-98 5 years ago

      Visit my web page to see some great ghost hunting tips

    • TheFalconPress profile image

      The Falcon Press 5 years ago from Los Angeles, California

      That Black Forest video was epic!

    • profile image

      mouse1996 lm 5 years ago

      Great and creepy stories!

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 5 years ago from Los Angeles, CA

      @Ardyn25: Hope you are having a fantastic day! Thank you for those kind words..

    • jupiter justice profile image

      Asher Socrates 5 years ago from Los Angeles, CA

      @mouse1996 lm: Thank you! I Enjoy your work also..

    • Ardyn25 profile image

      Ardyn25 5 years ago

      Great stories!