- today
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### 💀 **Grave Hour**:
**Welcome to Grave Hour — where every story is a step closer to the dark.**
Here, the shadows whisper and the dead don’t stay silent. Each video delivers a chilling tale that will crawl under your skin and stay there. From true horror stories and ghost encounters to terrifying fiction and cursed legends — we bring nightmares to life.
💬 **New to the channel? Hit subscribe and join the horror family.**
🔔 **Turn on notifications — you never know when the next scream will drop.**
👇 Tell us in the comments: **What’s the scariest thing you've ever experienced?**
⚠️ *Watch alone... only if you dare.*
\#GraveHour #HorrorStories #CreepyTales #RealHorror #Haunted
---
### 💀 **Grave Hour**:
**Welcome to Grave Hour — where every story is a step closer to the dark.**
Here, the shadows whisper and the dead don’t stay silent. Each video delivers a chilling tale that will crawl under your skin and stay there. From true horror stories and ghost encounters to terrifying fiction and cursed legends — we bring nightmares to life.
💬 **New to the channel? Hit subscribe and join the horror family.**
🔔 **Turn on notifications — you never know when the next scream will drop.**
👇 Tell us in the comments: **What’s the scariest thing you've ever experienced?**
⚠️ *Watch alone... only if you dare.*
\#GraveHour #HorrorStories #CreepyTales #RealHorror #Haunted
---
Category
🦄
CreativityTranscript
00:00My name's Caleb, and I'm an Uber driver up here in Anchorage, Alaska.
00:04The clock on my dashboard read 2.47 a.m., and the streets were dead, cloaked in that eerie quiet that only hits when the world's asleep.
00:12Snow flurries danced in my headlights, the kind that don't stick but make everything feel just a little more isolated.
00:19I was bone-tired, my eyes burning from 12 hours of driving, my thermos of coffee long gone cold.
00:25I just decided to call it quits when my phone pinged with a new ride request.
00:30One more, I thought. One more, then I'm done.
00:32The pickup was way out on Old Seward Highway, a stretch of road that's more wilderness than city.
00:38No streetlights, just endless pines and the occasional flicker of animal eyes in the dark.
00:44The app said the rider's name was E.M.
00:46No profile picture, no rating, just those initials.
00:50Weird, but not unheard of.
00:52People up here don't always bother with the niceties.
00:55I figured it was some late-night shift worker, or maybe a drunk who'd wandered too far from a bar.
01:01Either way, the payout was decent, $1.42 for a 20-minute trip.
01:06Hard to say no to that when rent's due.
01:08The road was empty as I drove, my tires crunching softly on the thin layer of frost.
01:14My radio was off.
01:15I couldn't stand another pop song or late-night talk show, host yammering about nothing.
01:20Just me, the hum of the engine, and the occasional gust of wind rattling the car.
01:26The GPS marker was a pin dropped on a blank stretch of highway.
01:29No address.
01:31No landmark.
01:32That should have been my first red flag, but I was too tired to care.
01:35I slowed down as I neared the spot, scanning the roadside.
01:39Nothing but trees and darkness.
01:41Then I saw her.
01:42She stood just off the shoulder, half-hidden in the shadows of a crooked spruce.
01:47A woman, maybe in her thirties, wearing a long, pale coat that looked too thin for the cold.
01:53Her hair was dark, hanging limp, and wet like she'd been caught in a storm, though the snow was barely falling.
02:00She didn't wave or step forward, just stood there, staring straight ahead.
02:04My headlights caught her face for a second.
02:07Pale, almost gray, with eyes that didn't blink.
02:11I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the Alaskan night.
02:14I pulled over, my car idling as I rolled down a passenger window.
02:18UEM?
02:19I called out, trying to sound friendly despite the unease crawling out my spine.
02:24She didn't answer, just walked toward the car, her steps slow and deliberate, like she was gliding more than walking.
02:31The back door opened without me unlocking it, and she slid into the seat directly behind me.
02:37The door shut with a soft click, and the car felt heavier, like the air itself had thickened.
02:43Where to?
02:44I asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
02:47Her face was half-hidden in shadow, but I could see her lips, thin, colorless, pressed into a tight line.
02:54She didn't speak, didn't even look at me, just stared out the window, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
03:01The GPS updated with the destination, an address I didn't recognize, somewhere deep in the outskirts of town.
03:08I shrugged it off and started driving, figuring she was just shy or maybe didn't speak English well.
03:14Happens sometimes.
03:15The silence in the car was suffocating.
03:18I'm used to quiet passengers, but this was different.
03:21It wasn't just that she wasn't talking.
03:23It was like she wasn't there, not really.
03:26No rustle of clothing.
03:28No soft breathing.
03:29No little movements you'd expect from a living person.
03:32I try to fill the void.
03:34Rough night, huh?
03:35This cold's no joke.
03:36Nothing.
03:37Not a nod.
03:38Not a glance.
03:39Just that blank stare out the window.
03:42Her reflection in the glass, unirvingly still.
03:44A few minutes into the drive, the GPS started acting up.
03:49The screen flickered, the route line jerking wildly before settling on a new path.
03:55Recalculating, the robotic voice said, but the new route didn't make sense.
03:59It was taking us off the highway, onto a narrow side road I'd never seen before.
04:04The street sign was rusted, barely legible.
04:07Cemetery Lane.
04:08My stomach twisted.
04:10Anchorage has a few cemeteries, but I'd never heard of this one.
04:14And I'd driven every back road in this city.
04:16Uh, you sure this is right?
04:18I asked, glancing back at her.
04:20Her eyes flicked up to meet mine in the mirror, and I swear my heart stopped.
04:25They were black.
04:26Not just dark, but black, like twin voids sucking in the light.
04:30Her lips parted, and a voice came out.
04:32Low, raspy, like wind through dead leaves.
04:37Keep going, she said.
04:38Two words, but they hit me like a punch.
04:41I wanted to argue, to turn around, but my hand stayed locked on the wheel, my foot on the gas.
04:47It was like I wasn't in control anymore.
04:49The road narrowed, the trees closing in until their branches scraped the sides of the car.
04:54The snow was falling harder now, piling up on the windshield faster than my wipers could clear it.
05:00The GPS screen went dark, then lit up again with static, the route line gone.
05:04I was driving blind, guided only by the road, and that voice in my head, keep going.
05:10The air in the car was freezing, my breath clouding despite the heater blasting.
05:15I could feel her behind me, not just sitting, but looming, like her presence was pressing against my back.
05:21The road ended at a wrought iron gate, half open and sagging on its hinges.
05:26Beyond it, I could make out rows of headstones, their shapes blurred by the snow.
05:31A cemetery, old and forgotten, the kind you'd expect to find in a ghost story.
05:36The gate creaked as I eased the car through, my tires crunching over gravel and ice.
05:41This is it, I asked, my voice shaking.
05:44No answer.
05:45I turned to look at her, really look at her, and my blood ran cold.
05:49The back seat was empty.
05:51No woman, no coat, no nothing.
05:54Just an empty seat, the leather gleaming under the dim interior light.
05:58My heart pounded, so hard I thought it had burst.
06:01I checked the mirrors, the windows, even twisted around to look at the floorboards.
06:07She was gone, but the car still felt wrong, like she was still there, watching me.
06:12I fumbled for my phone, ready to call someone, anyone, but the screen was dead.
06:17The battery drained despite being fully charged an hour ago.
06:21Then I saw it, on the seat.
06:23Right where she'd been, was a photograph.
06:25Old, yellowed, the edges curling like it had been handled a thousand times.
06:31I reached for it with trembling hands, my mind screaming at me to get out, to run, but
06:37I couldn't stop myself.
06:38The photo showed a boy, maybe eight years old, standing in front of a cemetery gate,
06:43the same gate I'd just driven through.
06:46He was smiling, but it wasn't a happy smile.
06:49It was strained, like he was scared but trying to hide it.
06:52Behind him, barely visible in the shadows, was a figure in a pale coat, her face blurred
06:58but unmistakable.
07:00The boy was me.
07:01I don't know how long I stared at that photo, my mind unraveling.
07:05I hadn't been to a cemetery as a kid, not that I remembered.
07:08My childhood was a blur of foster homes and moving trucks.
07:12My parents gone before I was old enough to know them.
07:14But that was me, clear as day, standing in front of this place I'd never seen until
07:20tonight.
07:21The photo slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the floor, and that's when I heard it,
07:26a whisper, right behind my ear.
07:29Stay.
07:30I screamed, throwing myself against the door, scrabbling for the handle.
07:34It wouldn't budge.
07:35The locks clicked shut, the engine revving on its own.
07:38The car lurched forward, deeper into the cemetery, the headlights cutting through the snow to
07:44reveal headstones leaning like crooked teeth.
07:47I pounded on the windows, shouting for help, but the sound was swallowed by the storm.
07:52The car stopped at the far end of the lot, near a mausoleum that looked like it hadn't
07:56been touched in a century.
07:58The door was ajar, a black rectangle that seemed to pull at the light.
08:02I didn't want to get out, but the car was freezing now, the heater dead, frost creeping
08:06up the windows.
08:07My breath came in shallow gasps, my fingers numb as I gripped the steering wheel.
08:13The whisper came again, louder this time, not from behind me, but from inside me, like
08:19it was burrowing into my skull.
08:21Stay with me.
08:22I felt a tug, not physical, but deeper, like something was trying to pull my soul out of
08:28my body.
08:29I fought it, clenching my teeth, focusing on the pain of my nails digging into my palms.
08:34The photograph was still on the floor.
08:36I picked it up again, desperate for some clue, some way out.
08:40On the back, in faded ink, was a single word, Evelyn.
08:45The name hit me like a brick.
08:46I didn't know any Evelyn, but it felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream.
08:51The whisper came again, softer now, almost pleading.
08:54You promised.
08:56I don't know what made me do it, fear, desperation, or something else.
08:59But I got out of the car.
09:01The snow was up to my shins, the wind cutting through my jacket like it wasn't there.
09:06The mausoleum loomed ahead.
09:08Its stone walls etched with lichen and frost.
09:11The door creaked as I pushed it open, the sound echoing into the darkness.
09:16Inside, the air was stale, thick with the smell of mold and something sweeter like rotting
09:21flowers.
09:22My phone's flashlight was useless, the beam flickering before dying completely.
09:27The room was small, dominated by a single stone sarcophagus in the center.
09:32On the lid was a name, Evelyn Morrow, 1892-1923.
09:38My breath caught.
09:39EM, the initials from the ride request.
09:42The sarcophagus was cracked, a jagged line running down its length.
09:46And from that crack came a faint glow, pale and sickly.
09:50I backed away, my boots scraping against the floor.
09:53But the door slammed shut behind me, the sound like a gunshot in the silence.
09:58The glow grew brighter, spilling out of the crack like liquid light.
10:02A hand reached out, pale and bony, the nails black and jagged.
10:07I screamed, stumbling back.
10:09But the room was too small, nowhere to run.
10:12The hand was followed by an arm, then a shoulder, then a head.
10:16Her head, the woman from the back seat.
10:18Her face was wrong, not just pale but decayed, the skin sagging, one eye clouded over, the
10:25other black and endless.
10:26Her lips curled into a smile, and I felt that tug again, stronger now, pulling me toward her.
10:33You promised, she said, her voice echoing in my head, my chest, my bones.
10:38You promised you'd stay.
10:40I didn't know what she meant, but flashes came to me.
10:43Memories that weren't mine.
10:44Or maybe they were.
10:46A boy, not me, but somehow me, standing in this cemetery, holding a woman's hand.
10:52A promise whispered in the dark.
10:54A child's voice swearing to never leave.
10:57A fire, screams, the smell of smoke and blood.
11:02I clawed at my head, trying to push the images out.
11:04But they kept coming faster, sharper, until I couldn't tell where I ended and she began.
11:10Her other hand reached for me, and I felt my body go limp, model slipping away.
11:15The cold was gone, replaced by a warmth that wasn't comforting, but suffocating, like being
11:21buried alive.
11:22Her fingers brushed my face, and I saw her life.
11:26Evelyn's life.
11:27A young woman in a small town, shunned for reasons I couldn't grasp, driven to this place
11:33by fear and hate.
11:34A child, her child, taken from her, buried somewhere in this cemetery.
11:39A promise made in desperation.
11:41A pact sealed in blood.
11:43You're mine, she whispered, and I felt myself fading, my thoughts dissolving into hers.
11:50But something snapped in me, a spark of anger, of survival.
11:54I wasn't hers, not yet.
11:56A lunge for the sarcophagus, slamming my shoulder against it, the stone grinding as it shifted.
12:03The glow flickered, her scream tearing through the air.
12:06Not just sound, but pain, like knives in my skull.
12:09I pushed harder, the crack widening, and something fell out.
12:14A small, brittle bundle wrapped in cloth.
12:16I grabbed it, not thinking, just acting.
12:19It was light, too light, and I knew what it was before I unwrapped it.
12:23Bones, tiny and fragile, a child's bones.
12:27Evelyn's child.
12:28Her scream turned to a wail.
12:30The light dimming.
12:31Her form wavering.
12:33I held the bundle tight, backing toward the door, my voice hoarse as I shouted,
12:38I'm not yours.
12:39I never was.
12:40The door flew open, the wind howling in, and I ran, clutching the bones to my chest.
12:46The cemetery was a blur, the snow blinding.
12:49But I kept moving, my legs burning, my lungs screaming.
12:53The car was still there, the engine running, the headlights cutting through the storm.
12:58I threw myself inside, slamming the door, and peeled out, the tires spinning before catching.
13:05The whisper was gone, the tug gone, but I could still feel her, like a shadow on my mind.
13:11I drove for hours, not stopping, not looking back.
13:15The bones were on the passenger seat, wrapped in my jacket.
13:18I didn't know what to do with them, but I couldn't leave them there, not with her.
13:22Dawn was breaking when I finally pulled over, the sky a bruised purple over the mountains.
13:27My hand was shaking as I checked my phone.
13:30Somehow, it was working again.
13:32No ride history, no record of EM, nothing.
13:36But the photograph was still in my pocket, the boy's face, my face, staring back at me.
13:42I buried the bones that day, in a quiet spot by a river, far from any cemetery.
13:48I didn't pray or say anything.
13:50I just dug until my hands bled and covered them with earth.
13:54The photograph, I burned.
13:55The flames curled a black, but I swear I saw her face in the smoke, just for a second.
14:01I haven't driven for Uber since.
14:02I barely leave my apartment.
14:04The nights are the worst, when the wind sounds like her voice, when the shadows move just a little too much.
14:11I don't know who Evelyn was.
14:12Not really.
14:13I don't know why she chose me, or what that promise meant.
14:16But I know she's still out there, waiting.
14:18And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see that cemetery gate, and I feel her hand on my shoulder, whispering my name.
14:27This is the second story, and trust me, it's one that'll keep you up at night.
14:31We stopped renting out room, 313, after a guest scratched a warning into the walls with their fingernails.
14:38My name's Ethan, and I was the new guy at the Grand Meridian Hotel, a fancy old place in downtown Seattle that reeked of money and secrets.
14:46It was my first week as a night shift receptionist, and I was already regretting the job.
14:52The pay was decent, but the hours were brutal.
14:5510 p.m. to 6 a.m., stuck behind a marble counter in a lobby that felt like a museum after dark.
15:02The chandeliers dimmed, the elevators hummed, and the air carried this faint, musty smell, like the building was breathing something ancient.
15:11My co-workers were nice enough, but they had this weird way of avoiding certain topics, like they were all in on a joke I wasn't allowed to hear.
15:19It was my third night, when I first heard about room 313.
15:22I was wiping down the counter, trying to stay awake, when Marcus, the bellhop, leaned in close, his eyes glinting with mischief.
15:31You know about the dare yet, rookie?
15:33He asked.
15:34I shook my head, figuring it was some hazing ritual for newbies.
15:39He grinned, showing too many teeth.
15:41Spent a night in 313.
15:44Nobody's lasted till morning.
15:45The other night's staff, Lila, the concierge, and Javier, the security guy, went quiet, their faces tight.
15:54I laughed it off, thinking it was a ghost story to mess with me.
15:57What?
15:58Is it haunted or something?
16:00I asked, roll my eyes.
16:02Marcus didn't laugh back.
16:03Or something, he said, and walked away.
16:06Lila filled me in later, her voice low like she was afraid the walls were listening.
16:12Room 313 was on the third floor, tucked at the end of a hallway that always felt colder than the rest of the hotel.
16:18It used to be a regular suite, nothing special, until about ten years ago when things started going wrong.
16:24Guests who stayed there complained of nightmares.
16:27Voices in the walls.
16:28Mirrors that showed things that weren't there.
16:30One guy, a businessman from Chicago, checked out after one night and never spoke again.
16:36Literally.
16:37Doctors said it was trauma, but he wouldn't say what.
16:39The final straw was a woman, in 2017.
16:43She stayed three nights, and on the last one, housekeeping found her curled up in the corner,
16:48her fingernails bloody, claw marks on the walls spelling out,
16:52Get out or stay, forever.
16:55They sealed the room after that, kept it off the books.
16:58Nobody cleaned it.
16:59Nobody entered.
17:00But every now and then, late at night, the phone at the front desk would ring,
17:04Caller ID showing room 313.
17:07Nobody answered those calls.
17:09I didn't believe a word of it.
17:11I'm not superstitious.
17:12Never have been.
17:14Ghosts.
17:14Curses.
17:15All that stuff's just stories people tell to scare themselves.
17:19But Marcus wouldn't let it go.
17:20By my fifth night, he was on me, every chance he got, calling me a coward,
17:25saying I'd never be one of them, if I didn't prove myself.
17:29Lila and Javier tried to talk me out of it.
17:32But peer pressure's a hell of a thing, especially when you're 23 and try to fit in.
17:36So I agreed.
17:37One night in room 313.
17:40Midnight to dawn.
17:41No big deal, right?
17:43I'd bring a book, some snacks, maybe catch a nap.
17:46Easy.
17:47Javier handed me the key.
17:49An old brass one.
17:50Not like the key cards for the other rooms.
17:52It was heavy.
17:54Cold.
17:54The number 313 etched into it like someone had carved it with a knife.
17:59Don't do this, man.
18:00He said, his eyes dark.
18:02It's not a game.
18:03I shrugged, playing it cool, but my stomach was in knots as I rowed the elevator to the
18:08third floor.
18:09The hallway was just as Lila described.
18:11Dim.
18:12The carpet faded.
18:13The air chilly enough to raise goosebumps.
18:17The other doors were normal, polished wood with gold numbers.
18:20But 313 was different.
18:22The paint was peeling, the number plate tarnished, and there was a faint hum coming from behind
18:27it, like a fluorescent light about to die.
18:29I turned the key, the lock clicking louder than it should have.
18:33The door swung open, and the smell hit me, damp, like wet plaster, mixed with something
18:39sharp, almost metallic.
18:41The room was small, smaller than I expected for a luxury hotel.
18:45A single bed with a sagging mattress, a dresser with a cracked mirror, a nightstand with a rotary
18:51phone that looked like it belonged in a museum.
18:53The wallpaper was yellowed, curling at the edges, and the window was boarded up, though
18:59I could hear wind rattling the glass behind it.
19:02No TV, no minibar, just this emptiness.
19:06I stepped inside, and the door slammed shut behind me, hard enough to make me jump.
19:11I laughed, trying to shake off the nerves.
19:13Nice try, Marcus.
19:15I muttered, figuring he'd rig something to mess with me.
19:18I set my backpack on the bed, pulled out my phone, and started a video for my YouTube
19:24channel.
19:24What's up, guys?
19:26Ethan here, spending the night in the creepiest room at the Grand Meridian.
19:30Room 313.
19:32Supposedly cursed.
19:33Let's see if I survive, right?
19:35I panned the camera around, zooming in on the mirror, the phone, the claw marks on the
19:40wall.
19:40They were real, deep gouges in the plaster, the edges stained dark.
19:45I told myself it was just vandalism, but my voice shook a little as I narrated.
19:50The first hour was fine.
19:51I sat on the bed, scrolling through my phone, eating a granola bar.
19:56The signal was spotty, but I figured it was the old building.
19:59I tried to read, but the words kept slipping away, like my brain couldn't focus.
20:05The hum was louder now, steady, like it was coming from the walls.
20:09I checked the room for vents, outlets, anything that might explain it, but found nothing.
20:14The mirror kept catching my eye, the crack running diagonally across it, splitting my
20:19reflection.
20:20Every time I looked, it felt like my face was off, like it wasn't quite me.
20:25Around 1 a.m., I started feeling weird.
20:28Not sick, exactly, but heavy, like the air was pressing down on me.
20:33I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, which was stained with watermarks that looked
20:37vaguely, like faces if you squinted.
20:40I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the mirror,
20:45my hands pressed against the glass.
20:47I didn't remember getting up.
20:49My reflection stared back, but it was smiling, and I wasn't.
20:53I yanked my hands away, stumbling back, and my heart hammering.
20:57The mirror was cold, frost spreading from where my fingers had been.
21:01I grabbed my phone to check the time.
21:031.13 a.m.
21:04The battery was at 20%, even though I'd barely used it.
21:08I tried to call Marcus, but the call dropped before it rang.
21:12The hum was abuzz now, vibrating in my teeth, and I could hear something else, faint whisper,
21:17like someone talking just out of earshot.
21:19I checked the door, still locked, but the key was gone.
21:23Not on the floor, not in my bag, just gone.
21:25I pounded on the door, shouting, but the sound didn't carry.
21:30It was like the room was swallowing it.
21:31The whispers grew louder, coming from the mirror.
21:35I avoided looking at it, but I could feel it pulling at me, like it wanted my attention.
21:40I turned on my flashlight, shining it at the walls, and saw the claw marks again.
21:44They were different.
21:46The words were still there, get out or stay forever.
21:49But now there were more, scratched in smaller, shakier letters.
21:54He's watching.
21:55My breath caught.
21:56I hadn't seen that before.
21:57I would have noticed.
21:59I would have.
21:59I sat on the floor, back against the wall, trying to stay as far from the mirror as I could.
22:05The whispers were words now, fragmented but clear.
22:09I told myself it was my imagination, that I was just freaking out, but then it voice changed,
22:14and it was mine.
22:16My own voice, whispering my name over and over.
22:19Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
22:22I clamped my hands over my ears, but it didn't stop.
22:25It was inside my head, burrowing deeper with every second.
22:28I don't know how long I sat there, but when I checked my phone again, it was 2.13 a.m.
22:33The battery was dead.
22:35The screen lit up just long enough to show me the time before going black.
22:38The room was darker now.
22:41The single bulb overhead barely glowing, casting long, and twitching shadows.
22:46The wind outside was screaming, the boards on the window, bowing inward like something was pushing against them.
22:53I tried the door again, kicking it, throwing my weight against it.
22:57Nothing.
22:57I was trapped.
22:59Then the dream started.
23:00Not dreams, really visions, bleeding into the room.
23:04I was still awake, but I saw things.
23:07A man in a suit.
23:08His face blurred, standing by the bed, his hands dripping black.
23:12A woman with no eyes.
23:14Her mouth moving soundlessly, pointing at the mirror.
23:18A child, sitting on the dresser, swinging its legs, humming that same damn tune I'd heard in the home.
23:24They weren't solid, just shapes in the corner of my eye.
23:27But they felt real, like they were waiting for me to acknowledge them.
23:32The mirror was the worst.
23:33Every time I glanced at it, I saw something different.
23:36My reflection, but with blood on my face.
23:39The room behind me, but empty.
23:42The bed made like I'd never been there.
23:44And once, just once, her.
23:46The woman with no eyes, standing right behind me.
23:49Her hands on my shoulders.
23:51I screamed, spinning around.
23:53But there was nothing there.
23:55Just the room, the bed, the mirror.
23:58The mirror that was humming now.
24:00The glass vibrating.
24:01The crack glowing faintly, like something was trying to push through.
24:05I don't know how I made it to 3 a.m.
24:07Time wasn't right anymore.
24:08Minutes stretched.
24:10Seconds crawled.
24:11Then snapped forward like a rubber band.
24:13I was pacing, muttering to myself.
24:16Trying to stay sane.
24:18When the phone rang.
24:19That old rotary phone.
24:21Shrill and piercing.
24:23Cutting through the whispers.
24:23I stared at it.
24:25My heart in my throat.
24:27Nobody knew I was here.
24:28The room wasn't on the system.
24:30The phone wasn't even plugged in.
24:31I checked.
24:32But it kept ringing.
24:34Louder.
24:35Faster.
24:36Until I couldn't stand it.
24:37I picked it up.
24:38My hand shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
24:41Hello.
24:42I croaked.
24:43Ethan, get out.
24:44A voice screamed.
24:46My voice.
24:46My voice.
24:47Panic, sobbing.
24:49It's not a room.
24:50It's a trap.
24:51She's coming.
24:51She's.
24:51The line went dead.
24:53The dial tone buzzing in my ear.
24:55I slammed the phone down.
24:57My chest heaving.
24:58My vision blurring with tears.
25:01The clock on my phone.
25:02Somehow working again.
25:03Just for a second.
25:05Red.
25:053.13 AM.
25:07The mirror cracked louder.
25:09A new fracture splitting the glass.
25:11The hum was a scream now.
25:13The whispers a chorus.
25:15And I could feel her.
25:16Whatever she was.
25:17Closer.
25:18Not just in the room but inside me.
25:20Clawing at my thoughts.
25:21I saw her in the mirror.
25:23Not behind me.
25:24But in me.
25:25My reflection twisting.
25:27My eyes going black.
25:29My mouth stretching into that eyeless woman's smile.
25:32I grabbed the phone.
25:33Smashing against the mirror.
25:35The glass shattering.
25:36The plastic cracking.
25:37But it didn't stop.
25:39The hum was louder.
25:40The whispers clearer.
25:42And the shadows were moving.
25:43Not just in the corners but toward me.
25:46I don't remember much after that.
25:47Flashes mostly.
25:48Me on the floor.
25:50Clawing at the carpet.
25:51My nails splitting.
25:52The door shaking.
25:54Like something was trying to get in.
25:55Or out.
25:56The child's voice.
25:58Singing now.
25:59Soft and sweet and raw.
26:00And her.
26:02Always her.
26:03In every shadow.
26:05Every reflection.
26:06Her hands reaching.
26:07Her voice promising.
26:09I'd stay forever.
26:11I fought, I think.
26:12I screamed.
26:13I begged.
26:14I prayed.
26:16Though I'd never believed in anything before.
26:18But it wasn't enough.
26:19I woke up in the lobby.
26:21Sprawled on the marble floor.
26:23The morning sun streaming through the windows.
26:26Marcus was there.
26:27Lila.
26:28Javier.
26:29All staring at me like I'd crawled out a grave.
26:32My clothes were torn.
26:33My hands bloody.
26:34My phone shattered in my pocket.
26:36They said they'd found me at 6 a.m.
26:38The door to 313 wide open.
26:41The room empty.
26:42No mirror.
26:43No phone.
26:45No claw marks.
26:46Just a bare room.
26:47Like it had been scrubbed clean.
26:49They didn't ask what happened.
26:50I didn't tell them.
26:51I quit that day.
26:52Walked out.
26:53And never went back.
26:54But it's not over.
26:55I can't sleep.
26:57Not really.
26:58Every time I close my eyes.
26:59I'm back in that room.
27:01The hum of my ears.
27:02Her hands on me.
27:03Mirrors are the worst.
27:05I covered every one of my apartment.
27:07But sometimes I hear it.
27:08Glass creaking.
27:09Like it's about to crack.
27:11And at 313 a.m., every night, my phone rings.
27:15It's dead.
27:16The screen black.
27:17But it rings.
27:18And I hear my voice begging, screaming, Ethan, get out.
27:21I don't know what room 313 is.
27:24A curse.
27:25A trap.
27:26A doorway to something worse.
27:28I don't know why it let me go.
27:29Or why it's still calling me back.
27:31But I know one thing.
27:33If you're ever at the Grand Meridian, and someone dares you to stay in 313, I'll run.
27:37Smash every mirror you see.
27:40Now, coming to our nest story.
27:42And trust me, it's one that'll make you check your walls before you sleep.
27:46My daughter told me the eyes in the walls didn't blink unless they were angry.
27:50My name's Sarah, and I'm a single mom to my 6-year-old daughter, Lily.
27:54Last spring, we moved into an old colonial house in Concord, Massachusetts.
28:00A fixer-upper we got for cheap because it had been empty for years.
28:03The realtor called it a steal, with its creaky oak floors, high ceilings, and sprawling backyard.
28:10I saw it as a fresh start after a messy divorce.
28:13A place for Lily and me to rebuild.
28:15Sure, the paint was peeling, the windows rattled, and the air had a faint, sour smell.
28:22But I figured we'd make it ours.
28:23I didn't know then that the house wasn't empty.
28:26Not really.
28:27The first week was hectic, unpacking boxes, scrubbing decades of grime, and trying to keep
28:33Lily entertained.
28:34She's a quiet kid, always drawing or talking to her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Flops.
28:39But she seemed off from the start.
28:42She'd stare at the walls, her little brows furrowed, like she was listening to something
28:47I couldn't hear.
28:48I chalked it up to the move.
28:50New place, new routine, bound to shake her up.
28:52Then, one night at dinner, she said it, her voice small but clear.
28:57Mommy, the eyes in the walls watch me when I sleep.
29:01I froze, fork halfway to my mouth.
29:04What eyes, sweetie?
29:05I asked, keeping my tone light.
29:07She shrugged, poking at her peas.
29:09The ones in my room.
29:11They don't blink unless they're mad.
29:12Kids say weird things, right?
29:14I told myself it was her imagination.
29:17Maybe a shadow or a crack in the plaster she'd turned into a story.
29:20But her words stuck with me, gnawing at the back of my mind.
29:24The next day, I checked her room while she was at school.
29:27It was just a bedroom.
29:29Faded wallpaper with a floral pattern.
29:31A slanted ceiling.
29:32A single window overlooking the yard.
29:35No eyes.
29:36No faces.
29:37Nothing but dust and cobwebs.
29:39I laughed it off, feeling silly.
29:42But I couldn't shake the chill that settled my chest.
29:45A few days later, Lily showed me her drawings.
29:48She'd always drawn happy things.
29:50Flowers.
29:51Rainbows.
29:51Me and her holding hands.
29:53But these are different.
29:55Crayon sketches of tall, thin figures.
29:58Their faces blank, except for huge, staring eyes.
30:02They stood in corners.
30:04Peered from doorways.
30:05Pressed against walls.
30:07Who are they?
30:08I asked.
30:09My voice tighter than I meant it to be.
30:11The watchers.
30:12She said like it was obvious.
30:13They live in the walls.
30:15And look at me.
30:16Her matter-of-fact tone made it worse.
30:18Like she was describing the weather.
30:21I hugged her.
30:22Told her they were just dreams.
30:23But my hand was shaking.
30:25I started noticing things after that.
30:27Little things.
30:28Easy to dismiss at first.
30:30The house was old.
30:32So creaks and groans were normal.
30:34But these were rhythmic, like fingernails tapping behind the walls.
30:38At night, when Lily was asleep, I'd hear it.
30:41Soft, deliberate scratches.
30:43Always from her room or the hallway.
30:46I'd check flashlight in hand, but find nothing.
30:49No mice.
30:50No loose pipes.
30:51Just silence that felt heavier than it should.
30:53The air in the house changed, too.
30:55That sour smell grew sharper, like something rotting just out of sight.
31:00Then I found a peephole.
31:01It was a Sunday afternoon, and Lily was napping.
31:04I was stripping wallpaper in the upstairs hall, trying to make the place feel less like a ghost, and more like a home.
31:11As I peeled back a strip, I saw it.
31:14A tiny hole, no bigger than a dime, drilled through the plaster.
31:18I thought it was a rat at first, but the edges were too clean, too precise, like someone had used a tool.
31:24I pressed my eye to it, expecting to see the other side of the wall.
31:28But it was dark, unnaturally dark, like the light was being swallowed.
31:32My breath caught when I thought I saw something move.
31:35A flicker, quick and fluid, like an eye pulling back.
31:39I found more holes after that.
31:40One in Lily's room, behind her headboard.
31:43Another in the living room, hidden by a painting the previous owners left behind.
31:47A cluster in a basement, near the old coal chute.
31:51Each one was the same.
31:52Small, deliberate, leading to that same inky darkness.
31:56I told myself it was the house's age, maybe old plumbing or wiring, but my skin crawled every time I passed a wall.
32:04I started checking Lily's room at night, running my hands over the plaster, searching for new holes.
32:10She'd wake up sometimes, clutching Mr. Flops, and whisper,
32:14They're looking, Mommy.
32:15They're mad.
32:16I called a contractor, figuring I needed a professional to check for pests or structural issues.
32:22He came the next day, a gruff guy named Tom who'd worked on old houses for decades.
32:26He poked around, tapped the walls, and frowned.
32:30No signs of rats, he said.
32:32These holes, they're not natural.
32:34Someone made them, and not recently.
32:36Looks like they've been here a while.
32:38He shone a flashlight into one, then pulled back, his face pale.
32:42What's wrong?
32:43I asked.
32:44He shook his head, muttering something about bad vibes, and left without charging me.
32:49That night, the scratching was louder, faster, like it was angry.
32:54I bought Spackle and sealed the holes.
32:56My hands trembling as I smoothed the paste over each one.
32:59It felt like a violation, knowing something had been watching us, maybe for years.
33:04I didn't tell Lily.
33:06She was scared enough.
33:07But I moved her mattress to the living room, saying we were having a sleepover.
33:11She seemed relieved, but her drawings got worse.
33:15The watchers are closer now, their eyes bigger, their blank faces smeared with red crayon, like blood.
33:21She stopped talking about them, just drew, her little hands moving faster than I'd ever seen.
33:28The first night, after sealing the holes, I couldn't sleep.
33:31The house was too quiet.
33:33The kind of quiet that presses against her eardrums.
33:36Around 2 a.m., I heard it.
33:38A soft, wet sound like breathing.
33:41Not from Lily, who was curled up beside me, but from the wall behind the couch.
33:45I held my breath, listening, and there was again, slow and deliberate in and out.
33:51I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and scanned the wall.
33:55The spackle was intact, but the plaster around it looked soft, like it was bulging slightly.
34:01I touched it, and it was warm, pulsing faintly under my fingers.
34:06I yanked my hand back, my heart pounding.
34:08The breathing stopped, replaced by a low, guttural hum, like a voice trying to form words.
34:15I scooped up Lily, still asleep, and ran to my bedroom, locking the door.
34:20The hum followed, louder now, vibrating through the floorboards.
34:24I sat on the bed, clutching Lily, whispering to myself that it was just the house settling, just my imagination.
34:31But then the scratching started again, not from one spot, but everywhere, behind every wall, under the floor, above the ceiling.
34:40It was frantic, like a swarm of claws tearing at the house from the inside.
34:44Lily woke up, her eyes wide.
34:47They're mad, Mommy, she whispered.
34:49They don't like the holes being closed.
34:51I shushed her, stroking her hair, but my voice cracked.
34:55The scratching grew louder, the hum turning into a chorus of whispers, too many to count.
35:01Overlapping in a language I didn't understand.
35:04The air was thick, the sour smell, choking now, like decay, seeping through the walls.
35:10I grabbed my phone to call for help, but the screen was dead.
35:13The battery drained despite being fully charged hours ago.
35:17Then the wall cracked.
35:19It was the one behind the bed, a jagged split running from floor to ceiling,
35:24like something had punched through from the other side.
35:26Dust poured out, and with it came that breathing again, louder, closer,
35:30wetter.
35:31I screamed, pulling Lily to the floor, shielding her as the crack widened.
35:36Something moved in the gap.
35:38A long, pale shape, too thin to be human, its surface slick and glistening.
35:43It didn't have a face, just a cluster of dark, unblinking eyes that locked onto mine.
35:49More shapes pressed against the crack, their eyes gleaming, their whispers rising to a shriek.
35:55I don't know how I moved, but I grabbed Lily and ran, the door flying open as if something
36:00wanted us to flee, or chase us.
36:03The hallway was wrong, the walls bulging, more cracks splitting the plaster, eyes peering
36:09from every fracture.
36:10The whispers were screams now.
36:12My name, Lily's name, woven into a cacophony of rage.
36:16I stumbled down the stairs, Lily clinging to me, her sobs muffled against my chest.
36:23The front door was locked, the knob burning hot, but I kicked it until it splintered,
36:28the night air hitting us like a slap.
36:30We ran to the car, my hand shaking as I fumbled with the keys.
36:34The house loomed behind us, its windows dark, but I swore I saw movement, shapes slithering
36:40behind the glass, eyes pressed against the panes.
36:44I drove to a motel, not stopping until we were miles away.
36:48Lily didn't speak, just clutched Mr. Flops, her face blank.
36:52I checked us in, paid in cash, and sat on the bed, watching her sleep, afraid to close
36:58my eyes.
36:59The next day, I called the police, saying we'd had a break-in.
37:03They checked the house, but found nothing.
37:06No cracks, no holes, no signs of damage.
37:09The spackle was gone, the walls smooth, like they'd never been touched.
37:14They suggested I'd imagined it, maybe stress from a move.
37:17I didn't argue, I knew they wouldn't believe me.
37:20I sold the house at a loss, never going back, not even a pack.
37:24A neighbor mailed us our things, but Lily's drawings were missing.
37:28I was glad.
37:29We live in an apartment now, a modern place with thin walls and noisy neighbors.
37:34It's safe, I tell myself, but Lily doesn't draw anymore.
37:37She barely speaks, and when she does, it's about the watchers.
37:42They're still there.
37:43She'll whisper, staring at the wall.
37:46They followed us.
37:47I check the walls every night, running my fingers over the drywall, searching for holes.
37:52I haven't found any, but sometimes, when the apartment is quiet, I hear it, a faint scratch,
37:59a soft breath just behind the plaster.
38:01I don't sleep much.
38:02The sour smell lingers, faint but always there, like it's in my skin.
38:07At night, I lie awake, listening, waiting for the whispers to start again.
38:12And sometimes, just before dawn, I feel it, eyes on me, unblinking, angry, waiting for
38:19me to look back.
38:20This is the last story, and if you're watching this video, then this chilling tale is a gift
38:25for you.
38:26Trust me, it's one that'll linger long after the screen goes dark.
38:30They said if you cried during her funeral, she'd come back to finish her story with you.
38:35My name's Lucas, and I'm a junior at Emerson College in Boston.
38:39Last fall, I attended a funeral for a classmate I barely knew, a girl named Clara Voss.
38:45She was in my creative writing class, quiet, always scribbling in a leather-bound diary.
38:51She carried everywhere.
38:53She kept to herself, her dark hair falling over her face like a curtain.
38:57But her stories were haunting, full of shadowy figures and whispered secrets.
39:03Two weeks before midterms, she was found dead in her dorm room.
39:06The police called it an overdose, but rumors swirled.
39:10Suicide, maybe, or something darker.
39:13I didn't know her well, just enough to nod in passing, but I went to her funeral out
39:17of respect.
39:18I wish I hadn't.
39:20The service was held in a small, graystone chapel on the edge of town, the kind of place
39:25that felt older than the city itself.
39:27It was a chilly October afternoon, the sky heavy with clouds, the air sharp with the smell
39:33of wet leaves.
39:34I arrived late, slipping into a pew at the back, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.
39:40The chapel was packed, but it was wrong.
39:43The mourners weren't sobbing or dabbing their eyes.
39:46They were smiling, small, tight smiles, like they were sharing a secret.
39:51Clara's parents stood at the front, their faces blank, their hands clasped so tightly
39:56their knuckles were white.
39:58A closed casket draped in white roses sat before the altar, and above it hung a portrait of
40:03Clara, her eyes too large, too knowing, and staring straight at me.
40:08The minister, a gaunt man with a voice like rust, spoke in riddles.
40:13Clara's story is unfinished, he said, his eyes sweeping the crowd.
40:17She seeks to tell her to carry it forward.
40:20Do not weep, lest you be chosen.
40:22I shifted in my seat, uneasy.
40:24I never heard a funeral like this.
40:26No prayers.
40:28No hymns.
40:29Just that cryptic warning repeated like a mantra.
40:32The mourners nodded, their smiles widening, and I noticed something else.
40:36They weren't looking at the casket or the minister.
40:39They were watching each other, their eyes darting, like they were waiting for something
40:43to happen.
40:44I tried to focus, to pay my respects, but the air in the chapel was thick, pressing against
40:50my chest.
40:51Clara's portrait seemed to shift, her lips curling slightly, though I told myself it was
40:57the flickering candlelight.
40:59The minister droned on, his words blending into a low hum, and I felt a prickling at the
41:04back of my neck like someone was staring.
41:06I glanced around, but nobody was looking at me.
41:09Just those eerie smiles, those watchful eyes.
41:12My throat tightened, and I don't know why, but a tear slipped down my cheek.
41:17I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed, but the room changed.
41:21The hum stopped.
41:22The mourners turned.
41:24Their smiles frozen.
41:25Their eyes locking onto me.
41:27The minister paused, his head tilting, and Clara's parents stepped forward, their faces
41:32no longer blank, but hungry.
41:35You've chosen, the minister said, his voice soft but final.
41:39I wanted to laugh, to tell them it was just a tear, just a reflex, but my voice stuck.
41:45The air grew colder, the candles guttering, and Clara's portrait.
41:49Her eyes were different now, black and endless, boring into mine.
41:54The mourners began to hum, a low, discordant sound that vibrated in my bones, and I stumbled
42:01out of the pew, muttering apologies, fleeing to the parking lot.
42:06I drove back to campus, my hands shaking on the wheel, telling myself it was just a weird
42:11ceremony, just grief twisted into something strange.
42:15But that night, things started happening.
42:18I was in my dorm, trying to study, when I noticed my reflection in the desk mirror.
42:23It was me, but off.
42:25My eyes were too dark, my skin too pale, and for a second, I saw her, Clara, standing behind
42:31me, her head tilted, her diary clutched to her chest.
42:36I spun around, heart pounding, but the room was empty.
42:40The mirror was normal again, just my face sweaty and scared.
42:44I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice, soft, insistent,
42:50whispering my name.
42:52Lucas finished my story.
42:54I told myself it was stress, maybe guilt for not knowing her better, but the next morning,
42:59I found something in my backpack.
43:01A leather-bound diary, worn and heavy, with Clara Voss embossed on the cover.
43:07I hadn't taken it, hadn't seen it at the funeral, but there it was, its pages filled
43:11with her spidery handwriting.
43:13Stories of a girl trapped in a house with no doors, watched by shadows that whispered her
43:18secrets.
43:19The last page was blank, except for two words.
43:22You're next.
43:23I threw the diary across the room, my breath ragged.
43:27I wanted to burn it, to throw in the trash, but something stopped me.
43:31A pull like the book was part of me now.
43:33I hid it under my mattress, hoping it'd disappear, but it didn't.
43:38That night, the whispers were louder, not just in my head, but in the room, coming from
43:42the walls, the ceiling, the mirror.
43:46Tell my story.
43:47Lucas.
43:48Don't stop.
43:49I covered the mirror with a towel, unplugged my lamp, and sat in the dark, my knees pulled
43:54to my chest, trying to block her out.
43:56By the third day, I was a wreck.
43:58I hadn't slept, hadn't eaten much, and my roommate, Jake, started asking if I was okay.
44:05I couldn't tell him the truth.
44:06He'd think I was losing it.
44:08So I said I was just stressed about midterms.
44:10But Clara was everywhere.
44:11In every mirror, every window, her face flickering over mine.
44:17In class, I'd hear her whisper, her voice weaving through the professor's lecture.
44:22At night, the diary would be on my desk, open to a new page, even though I'd locked it in
44:28a drawer.
44:28Her stories were changing.
44:30The girl in the house becoming me.
44:32The shadows calling my name.
44:34I went to the campus counselor, thinking maybe I was having a breakdown.
44:38She listened, her face kind but skeptical, and suggested I take a break, maybe talk to
44:44a priest if I believed in that stuff.
44:45I didn't, but I was desperate.
44:48So, I tracked down the minister from the funeral.
44:51He lived in a run-down house near the chapel, its windows boarded up, its yard choked with
44:56weeds.
44:57He opened the door just a crack, his eyes bloodshot, his hands trembling.
45:02You cried, he said before I could speak.
45:05You're hers now.
45:06He told me about the mourner's game, a ritual older than the chapel, older than the town.
45:11Clara wasn't just a girl.
45:12She was a vessel, chosen by something ancient, something that fed on stories.
45:18Her death wasn't an accident.
45:20It was a sacrifice.
45:21Her life traded to keep the entity at bay.
45:24But her story wasn't finished, and the ritual passed it to someone new.
45:28The rule was simple.
45:29Don't cry at the funeral, or you'd be the next teller.
45:32The mourners, those smiling faces, were past tellers, bound to her forever, their lives
45:39drained to keep her story alive.
45:41You can't stop it, he said, his voice breaking.
45:45You tell her story, or it takes you.
45:47I left his house numb, the diary burning a hole in my bag.
45:51I tried to ignore it, to go back to normal, but Clara wouldn't let me.
45:55Her whispers were screams now.
45:57Her face in every reflective surface.
46:00My phone, my laptop, even a spoon.
46:03She was closer each time, her hands reaching, her eyes black voids that pulled at my soul.
46:09The diary's pages filled on their own.
46:12My handwriting mixing with hers.
46:14Stories of me running through a house with no doors.
46:17Shadows clawing at my heels.
46:19Hey, if you're finding this story as chilling as I did living it, do me a favor.
46:24Subscribe to my channel and hit that like button.
46:27It means the world, and it keeps these stories coming.
46:30Now, let's get back to the nightmare.
46:32One night, I woke up standing in my dorm, the diary open in my hands, my fingers smudged with ink.
46:40I'd written a new story, one where I was trapped in the chapel, the mourners circling,
46:45their smiles splitting their faces to reveal teeth like needles.
46:49Clara's voice was in my head, louder than ever.
46:52Finish it, Lucas.
46:54Finish me.
46:55I screamed, throwing the diary, but it landed open, the pages fluttering like they were alive.
47:01Jake wasn't there.
47:03He'd started crashing at his girlfriend's.
47:05Seeing our room gave him the creeps, and I was alone with her.
47:08I tried to fight it.
47:10I stopped looking at mirrors, covered every reflective surface, but she found other ways.
47:16My dreams were hers, vivid and suffocating.
47:19The house with no doors closing in.
47:22The shadows whispering my fears.
47:24I'd wake up with scratches on my arms.
47:27Words carved into my desk.
47:28Tell it.
47:29The diary was always there, heavier each day, its pages multiplying, stories piling up.
47:36My childhood secrets.
47:38My regrets.
47:39My darkest thoughts.
47:41All woven into Clara's narrative.
47:43I went to the library, digging through old records, trying to find anything about the chapel
47:48or the ritual.
47:48I found a newspaper clipping from 1893, yellowed and brittle, about a girl named Eliza Voss, Clara's ancestor, maybe, who died in a fire at the chapel.
48:00The article said she was a storyteller, shunned for her tales of spirits and shadows.
48:06The townsfolk called her a witch, and when she burned, they smiled, just like the mourners at Clara's funeral.
48:13There were other stories, too.
48:15Every few decades, another girl, another death, another unfinished story passed on.
48:20I was running out of time.
48:21My grades tanked.
48:23My friends stopped calling, and I could barely function.
48:26Clara's voice was constant.
48:28Her presence a weight on my chest.
48:30The diary was writing itself faster.
48:32The stories darker.
48:34Ending with me dead.
48:35Drowned.
48:36Burned.
48:37Torn apart by shadows.
48:39I knew what she wanted.
48:41For me to finish her story.
48:42To give an ending.
48:44But every ending meant my death.
48:46I couldn't do it.
48:47I wouldn't.
48:47I decided to destroy the diary.
48:49I drove to a quarry outside town, the book on the passenger's seat, its leather pulsing like a heartbeat.
48:56I doused it with gasoline, lit a match, and watched it burn.
48:59The flames were wrong.
49:01Green and cold.
49:03The smoke forming shapes that looked like Clara's face.
49:06Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
49:08Her voice roared in my head.
49:10Not words, but pain.
49:12Tearing in my mind.
49:13I collapsed.
49:14My vision blackening.
49:16And when I came to, the diary was there, unburned, its pages pristine.
49:21You can't stop.
49:22It said on the last page, in my handwriting.
49:25I don't know how I got back to my dorm, but things got worse after that.
49:29Clara wasn't just in mirrors now.
49:31She was in me.
49:32I catch myself speaking her words.
49:34My hands writing her stories without my control.
49:37My reflection wasn't mine anymore.
49:39It was hers, her black eyes, her pale skin, her smile that wasn't a smile.
49:45The mourners started appearing, too.
49:48Not in the chapel, but in my life.
49:50I d see them on the street, in the library.
49:53Their smiles following me.
49:55Their eyes empty.
49:56They'd whisper, tell it, Lucas, their voices blending with hers.
50:01I tried to run.
50:02I packed a bag, bought a bus ticket to anywhere.
50:05But at the station, the diary was in my hand, though I'd left it behind.
50:09The mourners were there, lining the platform.
50:12Their smiles splitting wider.
50:14Their teeth glinting.
50:15Clara's voice was a scream.
50:17You're mine.
50:18I dropped the ticket, stumbled back to campus, and locked myself in my room.
50:23The shadows were alive now, slithering across the walls.
50:27Their eyes glowing.
50:28There whispers a chorus of finish it.
50:31I don't know how much time I have left.
50:33The diary's almost full.
50:34The story's all ending the same.
50:36Me, dead.
50:38My body a vessel for her.
50:39I'm writing this.
50:41Recording it.
50:42Hoping someone will hear.
50:43Someone will know.
50:44I can't destroy the diary.
50:46Can't stop her.
50:47But maybe I can warn you.
50:49If you're ever at a funeral, and the mourners smile, don't cry.
50:53Don't look at the mirrors.
50:54Don't listen to the whispers.
50:56And if you find a diary that isn't yours, run.
50:59Clara's here now.
51:00I feel her in my chest.
51:02Her hands on my heart.
51:03And her voice in my throat.
51:05The mirror's uncovered.
51:06And she's smiling.
51:08Her eyes black.
51:09Her diary open on my lap.
51:11I'm finishing her story.
51:12I think.
51:13I don't want to, but my hands are moving.
51:15The words spilling out.
51:18I see the chapel.
51:19The mourners.
51:20Their teeth.
51:21Their eyes.
51:22I see the house with no doors.
51:24The shadows waiting.
51:26I see Clara.
51:27And she's me.
51:28And I'm her.
51:29And the story's done.
51:31Don't cry for me.
51:31Thank you for watching this spine-chilling tale.
51:35And for joining me on this journey into the unknown.
51:38If this story left you looking over your shoulder, don't forget to subscribe, like, and share.
51:43It keeps these nightmares alive.
51:45Stay safe.
51:46Keep your mirrors covered.
51:48And I'll see you in the next video, if you dare.
51:50And I'll see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you want to see you in the next video, if you
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