A truly terrifying urban legend should scare and creep you out so much that after hearing them, you leave the hallway light on when going to bed. The stories below certainly meet that criteria.
The Clown Statue
One Halloween night, single father, Norris Bernard was unable to return home from a business trip in time to take his two boys trick-or-treating. To ensure his children didn’t miss out on the night’s annual event, he asked a teenage, neighbor boy, Todd, to take his sons from house to house and then babysit them, overnight. Todd was standing at the front door when the boys arrived home from the nearby bus stop. He retrieved the emergency key that Norris had hidden in a nearby potted plant and unlocked the door. Eager to get an early start on their candy-begging tour of the neighborhood, the kids rushed upstairs and put on their costumes. The oldest, Chad was a pirate, complete with sword and eye patch. His younger brother, Michael held a fake, ray gun and donned a Buzz Lightyear mask.
“Can we go now, can we go?” They excitedly asked their babysitter.
Through the window, Todd observed a handful of children outside in costume roaming about the usually quiet streets of the upper middle class neighborhood. “Sure, let’s go.”
Todd locked the door behind them and the boys started their trick-or-treating at the very next house on the street.
After almost two hours of walking and ringing doorbells, the siblings had collected a sizeable bounty of sugar. It was already dark outside so Todd allowed a few more houses and then insisted that they call it a night. When they arrived back to the house, Todd noted the nearby streetlight was out. The boy’s home was eerily dark as they walked to the front door. “I could’ve sworn the living room light was on when we left.” Todd said aloud. Chad and Michael didn’t acknowledge him as they glanced in each other’s bags of goodies, preparing for the inevitable sugar swap of each child’s unwanted candy.
As the boys entered the house, Chad and Michael ran up the stairs just to the right of the entrance clinging to their bags of sweets. Still uneasy by the darkness, Todd flipped on a light, scanned the quiet living room and listened for a moment. There were no odd sounds and nothing appeared to be disturbed. The new age art hanging on the walls was a bit extreme in color for his taste and the clown statue in the far corner of the living room was anything but comforting but aside from a clashing of style, all seemed well. His phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts.
He answered, already knowing who it was. “Hi, Mr. Bernard.”
“How did it go tonight?”
“Great. We just got home and the boys are upstairs. I’ll get them to bed soon.”
“Thanks, Todd, I really appreciate this. I was able to get a red-eye flight so I should be home in a few hours. Relax and watch TV until I get there and help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
“Sounds good, Mr. Bernard.” Todd’s eyes moved to the clown statue across the room. Something about its gaze made him very uneasy. “Can I watch TV upstairs, Mr. Bernard? No offense, but the clown statue in the living room is a little creepy.”
“Go upstairs and lock yourself in a room with the boys, Todd, now!”
Mr. Bernard hung up and immediately called 9-1-1. Todd rushed upstairs and secured himself and the two young boys in Chad’s bedroom.
A few minutes later he heard the front door open and the loud commands of, “Police! Freeze!”
A few minutes later an officer knocked on the bedroom door. Todd unlocked and opened the door.
“You boys OK?”
Todd was white with fear. “Yeah, what’s going on?”
“We arrested the intruder.” The policeman informed him.
Todd looked confused.
The policeman clarified, “The clown. He’s now in custody. You’re safe now.”
Michael turned to his brother, Chad. “See, I told you!”
Michael had complained to his father and brother that a clown had been hiding in his closet and would come out in the middle of the night to watch him sleep.
The Choking Doberman
Rebekah arrived home late one night after an evening out with friends. As she entered her home she immediately heard a strange noise coming from her living room. She hurried through the house and found her two-year old Doberman Pincher, Klaus, gasping for air. In a panic, she rushed over to him and with one hand she tried to hold the top of his snout. With the other, she reached her fingers inside and could just feel the edge of a strange, cold object lodged in his throat. Unable to remove it with her fingers, she managed to walk the dog to her car and lift him into the backseat. She sped to the all night, emergency vet office just a few miles away.
Upon entry, she was met by a female veterinarian assistant.
“Please help me, my dog, my Klaus is choking!” Rebekah pleaded.
“Do you know what he swallowed?” She asked.
Rebekah shook her head. “No. he was inside all day. I have no idea.”
She rushed the dog to the back exam area immediately. A moment later, the veterinarian on duty found Rebekah in the lobby, pacing in panic.
He was direct and speaking quickly. “I’m Dr. Ward. We need to sedate Klaus to remove whatever is blocking his airway.”
Rebekah nodded, “OK. Please help him.”
“I’ll update you as soon as I can.”
Dr. Ward rushed back to the exam area. After completing the required paperwork, Rebekah began her drive back home to await the vet’s call. As she drove, she recalled her decision to adopt a dog. Living alone, she wanted companionship as well as protection.
As she entered her front door her phone rang.
“Rebekah, this is Dr. Ward. Where are you?”
“I just got home. How is Klaus?” She asked, worried.
“Rebekah, I pulled three severed fingers from inside of his throat. My assistant said he was inside all day?”
Rebekah didn’t answer.
“Rebekah, get out of your house! I’ll call the police.”
Rebekah glanced over toward the kitchen and noticed the wind blowing the curtains in front of an open window. She was certain that the window had been closed as she slowly walked to the kitchen entryway. There, she stared at the motionless body of an intruder, unconscious on the floor. She observed his hand and the blood that oozed out a gaping hole of shredded skin and bone resulting from the missing three fingers.
The Long Distance Phone Call
Clara tossed and turned in her empty bed, unable to fall to sleep. Three months ago and after forty-four years of marriage, she had lost her husband, Roy. Each night, she absentmindedly looked over to his side of the bed, forgetting he was gone. Missing his goodnight kiss, she sadly reached out with one hand and touched his pillow.
Clara jumped at the unexpected, loud ringing of the telephone.
“Who’s calling at this late hour?” She said, aloud.
Reaching over to the nightstand, she picked up the receiver.
Through the phone, she heard the roar of wind as if she was standing inside a storm. She pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up.
Immediately, the telephone rang again.
Again, she answered, “Hello?”
The sound of wind was louder this time. This time, behind the noise, she heard a man’s voice calling her name.
“Who is this?” She demanded.
The roaring sound of wind subsided and was replaced with the familiar voice of her deceased husband.
“Clara, I’m with the angels. Angels, Clara.”
Clara dropped the phone. Over and over she heard her dead husband’s voice repeat the words, “Angels, Clara, Angels.”
In shock, Clara passed out.
The next morning she awoke to find the phone still off of the receiver and on the bed by her side. She moved it to her ear and heard nothing. Clara decided that she had experienced a vivid dream in which she had sleepily answered a real phone.
For the next several hours, the memory of her dream kept thoughts of her late husband in her mind. The familiar sound of his voice echoing in her head and heart, she finished her breakfast and drove herself to the cemetery to visit his grave. Holding fresh cut flowers from her own yard, she walked toward his grave site. As Clara approached, she was shocked to see the destruction left behind from what must have been an intense windstorm. Trees, power lines and even tombstones were toppled and covered with debris.
Clara rushed to Roy’s tombstone and while happy to see it was still upright, she frowned at the thick cable line draped across his resting place.
“We’re here to clean that up now, ma’am.”
Clara jumped. She hadn’t noticed the man in uniform approach her from behind.
“What happened?” She asked him.
“Bad storm last night. Wind gusts were over fifty miles per hour for a while. But don’t worry, we’ll get these downed phone lines cleaned up in a jiffy.”
Clara crossed her arms as goosebumps spread across her skin.
“Phone lines? These are phone lines?” She asked, dumfounded.
“Yes ma’am. But, like I said, we’re here to clean them up.”
Clara recalled her husband’s voice over the phone in what she had thought was a dream.
She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth as she read the words she had temporarily forgotten were etched on Roy’s tombstone.
Here Lies Roy, Husband and Father. He’s now with the angels.
– Gare Allen is the author of the amazon.com best-selling, The Dead: A True Paranormal Story.