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Ghost Story Short Essay For Kids

The Man Who Found Out

by Algernon Blackwood

Professor Mark Ebor, the scientist, led a double life, and the only persons who knew it were his assistant, Dr. Laidlaw, and his publishers. But a double life need not always be a bad one, and, as Dr. Laidlaw and the gratified publishers well knew, the parallel lives of this particular man were equally good, and .....

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The Insanity of Jones

by Algernon Blackwood

Adventures come to the adventurous, and mysterious things fall in the way of those who, with wonder and imagination, are on the watch for them; but the majority of people go past the doors that are half ajar, thinking them closed, and fail to notice.....

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The Glamour of the Snow

by Algernon Blackwood

Hibbert, always conscious of two worlds, was in this mountain village conscious of three. It lay on the slopes of the Valais Alps .....

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The Wendigo

by Algernon Blackwood

A considerable number of hunting parties were out that year without finding so much as a fresh trail; for the moose were uncommonly shy, and the various Nimrods returned to the bosoms of their respective families with the best excuses the facts of their imaginations.....

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Endless Loop

by Unknown

One night, a man had a nightmare. It was the most frightening thing he had ever experienced. In the dream, he found himself walking in a desert. Somehow, he had no idea how he had gotten there, but he knew he was lost and alone......

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A Haunted House

by Virginia Woolf

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure--a ghostly couple."Here we left it," she said. And he added, "Oh, but here tool" "It's upstairs," she murmured. "And in the garden," he whispered. "Quietly," they said, "or we shall wake them."......

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The Cask of Amontillado

by Edgar Allan Poe

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could ; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged ......

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The Pit and the Pendulum

by Edgar Allan Poe

I was sick, sick unto death, with that long agony, and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence, the dread sentence of death, was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy......

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The Haunted Orchard

by Richard Le Gallienne

The Signal-Man

by Charles Dickens

The Silver Mirror

by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Street

by H. P. Lovecraft

Accessory Before the Fact

by Algernon Blackwood

The Terrible Old Man

by H. P. Lovecraft

Check these two out. Totally original. I’m new to scaryforkids and I’ve loved it since I was eight…but I’m terrified by it. XD LOL. Here they are: my two little works of genius:

Scary Stories

Tick Tock

A teenage girl named Rachel was sitting at her desk, doing homework, one day, when she thought she heard a peculiar noise. She stopped typing her essay, and listened. It was a soft voice, a person singing:
Tick, tock, tick tock, I’ll be coming soon.
Believing it was her neighbor, a gang, or her brother Derek messing with her, Rachel shrugged and returned to her homework.
After sixteen minutes of peace and quiet, Rachel was startled to hear the calm, quiet voice, now louder, and sounding closer.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, not much longer now.
Rachel was a very uneasy girl. She resumed her homework – this time, listening to soothing music.
Her brother went out to get ice cream at a nearby convenience store when Rachel heard the mocking, threatening song for the third time.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, not much time to run.
The girl was so frightened by now that she went out with Derek to the store. Anything to get away from the voice.
Rachel was fishing a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet. As she was doing this, she shuddered. The voice sent a chill down her spine.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, you can’t hide from me.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, almost time to bleed.
Rachel was extremely worried.
“Derek, do you hear something?”, she asked after the two left the shop.
No answer. Rachel glared at him.
“What? Seriously”, he groaned. “Don’t hear anything.”
On their way back from the store, Derek was driving home while Rachel sat in the front seat next to him. He plugged in his headphones and turned up the music on his MP3 player.
As a result of this, the following sequence of events occurred.
A young woman was driving her car to the intersection where Derek, who had just gotten his license, was headed.
However, he didn’t see her. By the time he did, it was too late.
Derek blew through the red light, swaying his head back and forth to the music.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, this is part of my plan.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, that young and stupid man.
Rachel glanced over at her stupid brother and realized the voice was referring to Derek. She shuddered.
Suddenly, Derek saw the girl driving her car and swerved to the right –
It was too late.
An awful scraping noise throbbed in Rachel’s ears. A metallic CRASH! jolted Rachel to her senses.
The car started turning, not by steering, but by force, until it flipped over and crashed, upside-down.
Rachel was terrified. Did she dare look to her left? Her hands trembled as she looked over –
Sure enough, Derek was dead. He was bleeding from the mouth and his neck was broken. Rachel screamed. Why hadn’t she warned him?
She unbuckled her seatbelt and was able to get her legs out from under the dashboard. She pressed the button to open the rear door.
It didn’t work.
Rachel crawled through the car to the back seat. She went to the trunk and hid there in grief.
When she heard the rustling noise, she knew she wasn’t alone.
The filthy man next to her, eyes wide with excitement and insanity, turned his head to look at her. His evil grin made Rachel shudder.
Then he opened his mouth and said,
“Tick, tock, tick, tock, you’re not with us now…Time’s up.”
The End

Hunger Games

It was a hot summer night, six years ago. I was playing Hunger Games with the kids on my block. The rules are very simple: You try to tag other people without getting tagged yourself, but you need a weapon in order to tag, or kill, someone. Weapons were located in a great big pile in somebody’s front yard. If you were killed, well…you died, and had to sit on the front porch in front of the weapons, or, the Cornucopia.
I was running, panicking, through backyards, trying to stay alive. My neighbor, Lindsay, was right at my heels. He had a huge swim noodle, and I was inches away from it slapping down my back. In a fit of terror, I dove for some bushes in a nearby front yard.
My chest and leg ached. I struggled to stay quiet as I remembered falling from the dead, crusty tree I’d been climbing to avoid Elliot killing me with his toy bow and arrow. I had gotten a huge cut, and even today, it still left its mark, serving as a reminder of what happened that night, so long ago.
I lay down, perfectly still. I breathed through my nose to reduce the sound. A car shone its headlights in my eyes. I scuttled into a thicker area of the bush-wall that I had settled in.
Taking in my surroundings, I realized no one was near. Sofia, Aiden, and Lissa were interlocked in a fight across the street on the other side of the block. I listened for footsteps, then sprinted into the alley, my dumbbell in hand, just in case. I was one to hide, and I never looked for a kill.
I stepped close to the garages in the alley, clutching my weapon. I had earned it, but had had to kill Chloey in exchange for it. She was two years younger, but not an easy kill. Man, she had an attitude.
I walked into the backyard of a house where no one lived. Most of the kids said it was haunted. I didn’t believe a word of that.
I hid inside the garage. It was a small, musty room. The ugly green paint was peeling, revealing a sickly grey shade underneath it.
No wonder no one lived in the place. The red brick walls were coated in green ivy. A brick was even sticking out, its edge jagged and sharp.
Suddenly, I heard a rustle. I spun around madly, shining my flashlight.
“Who’s there?”, I whispered. My eyes darted left and right. “Please, tell me! I won’t hurt you!”
The voice gave a low chuckle.
“But I might”, the man’s voice said. His voice was deep and threatening.
I backed away.
“Who are you?”, I stammered. My eyes were wide with fear.
“And why would I tell you?”, the man said. The moonlight shone on him, but his black-grey cloak – jacket, I should say – concealed his face.
He stepped closer.
“Get away from me. If you come any closer -” I browsed through my pocket, finding what I needed – “I’ll use this!” I brandished my pocketknife.
No reply. I ran out of the yard, faking a right, but actually stumbling to the left.
I looked over my shoulder. There was no one behind me. I kept running –
I screamed when I stopped. The figure was in front of me. Without thinking, without speaking, I grabbed my trusty knife –
And slashed it across his face. Across his eye. Just one long, bloody, scarring gash across his face, reaching from his forehead, across his eye, his lips, to his chin.
“You little – !”, he shouted, grasping blindly. He ran after me, groaning in pain and agony, chasing after me, in the dark, the moonlight forming his terrifying silhouette. It was only when he tripped over a root – the root of the tree where I had fallen – that I stopped running. A pool of blood formed. Realization came over me that he was still alive and that he’d be up and running after me soon. Without looking back, I ran out of the dark, bloody alley and back to my house. The last thing I heard before I left the alley was the man’s rasping voice:
“I’ll be back. I will find you.”
Ever since then, I haven’t gone near that house or the alley without my pocketknife. Six years later, I still live in terror, thinking that one day, that man will return, waiting to take his revenge on me.