In the small, forgotten town of Black Hollow, there stood an old house at the edge of the woods. The locals called it "The Widow's Lament," named after the woman who had lived there decades ago. She was said to have gone mad after her husband vanished one stormy night, leaving behind only a trail of blood leading into the forest. The house had been abandoned ever since, but strange whispers could still be heard echoing from its walls.
One autumn evening, a group of friends—Emma, Jake, and Sarah—decided to spend the night in the house on a dare. They brought flashlights, snacks, and a camera to document their adventure. As they stepped inside, the air grew heavy, and the temperature dropped unnaturally. The walls seemed to hum faintly, as if alive.
"Did you hear that?" Emma asked, her voice trembling.
"Hear what?" Jake replied, trying to sound brave. "It's just an old house. Stop freaking out."
They explored the dusty rooms, finding broken furniture and faded photographs of the widow and her husband. In one picture, the husband's face was scratched out. Sarah shivered. "This place gives me the creeps. Let's just set up in the living room and wait until morning."
As the night deepened, the whispers began. At first, they were faint—like the rustling of leaves. But soon, they grew louder, forming words.
"Leave... leave now..."
The friends froze.
"Okay, that's it," Jake said, his bravado crumbling. "We're out of here."
But when they tried to open the front door, it wouldn’t budge. The windows were sealed shut, as if the house itself was holding them captive. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.
"He’s coming... he’s coming..."
Suddenly, the camera they had set up on the table turned on by itself. The screen flickered, showing a shadowy figure moving through the house. It was tall, hunched, and dripping with something dark. The figure stopped in front of the camera and tilted its head, revealing hollow eyes and a grotesque, twisted smile.
The friends screamed and backed away, but the whispers turned into deafening screams. The walls began to bleed, thick rivulets of crimson oozing down the peeling wallpaper. The shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, its limbs contorted unnaturally. It lunged at them, and the screen went black.
The next morning, the townsfolk found the house eerily silent. The front door was wide open, and the camera lay shattered on the floor. The footage recovered showed only static, except for one brief moment—a single frame of Emma’s terrified face, her mouth open in a silent scream, before the screen went dark forever.
The house still stands, and on quiet nights, the whispers return. They say if you listen closely, you can hear the widow’s voice, warning you to stay away... because he is still waiting.
Hope that gave you a good scare! Let me know if you want more. 👻