Story Writing on Scary Night. This is a very interesting topic which you can present in the various class or competitive exams.
A Mysterious House
It was past ten pm and I was walking down the street. I walked past a mysterious house. The house was brightly lit even though it had been empty for days. I was curious to see more.
The hinges creaked as I opened the door. The sound of my heavy breathing is all I could hear. I turned… and behind me was this dark shapeless figure.
All I could remember about the figure were its bright red eyes that stared through me. I screamed… No voice came out of me. I could feel cold hands wrap around me.
I collapsed on the floor. After some time, I woke up in the same room with pitch darkness and silence within. I gathered all my courage and ran outside. I stumbled and hit myself on the way. All I wanted to do was get away from that eerie and bloodthirsty place.
My Scariest Camping Memory
I live in eastern Greendale and my mother lives in western Greendale. My mother is an outdoorsy person and loves camping and trekking. I was visiting her one summer when we planned to drive one hour away from her city. The plan was spontaneous and we ended up at this free campsite at the top of a hill. Surprisingly, we were the only campers around.
We relaxed and had the whole day to ourselves. I was dozing after lunch when a truck full of men came up and had a conversation with my mom.
We put up tents and were very sleepy at the end of the day. I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow. I don’t know for how long I had slept when suddenly I woke up thirsty. To my surprise, mom was awake and sitting up in the dark tent. She put her hand over my mouth.
That was when I heard Footsteps. Footsteps in the dark were fast approaching our tent. Instantly, my mom whispered to me “Brian! Grab the gun”
Brian! Brian was my dad’s name. My dad had passed away when I was a kid. My mom had taken care of me and my sister. The approaching footsteps moved away.
My mom used her presence of mind to save us that day. Two women at an empty campsite. We heard some footsteps in the night but none approached the tent again.
Not to Me, but to My Sister
My sister and her husband had just had their first child a few months back. My brother in law worked the graveyard shift while my sister looked after the child. Around 3 am, she heard a loud banging on her back door. Unlike me, my sister was a courageous one. She opened the door and saw a lady stand there. The lady said that her husband had hit her and she had knocked for some help.
My sister was reluctant about letting her inside and wanted to call the police for help. The lady begged to stay away from the police as her husband had some friends in the department who might turn her in. My sister was not ready to let the woman come inside. Something about the woman seemed weird.
My sister went inside and dialled 911 under the pretext of getting some water for the lady. Somehow the lady got to know about this and fled from there. The police arrived in a few minutes and a sketch artist drew the lady’s image from my sister’s memory.
It was later revealed that a couple used to pull these tricks on people and loot them. Even today, the memory of this incident that happened with my sister creeps me out.
When I was in High School
My dad lived in a house that was built in the early 1800s. Many times, I could hear the cabinets open and close in the kitchen when I was sitting in the living room. At times, I thought that the old furniture was responsible for the constant creaking.
My dad worked a 7 am to 3 pm shift. Rarely, he was allotted the overnight shift. This incident happened when I was 17. One night he was working till 11 pm. It was around 8 pm when I heard footsteps coming from the living room and assumed that my dad had come back early. I went back to playing Borderlands.
After a while, I heard the footsteps again. Something eerie about their movement. They seemed to be pacing back and forth between the living room and kitchen in some steady rhythm. I wanted to shout dad but I chose to stay silent. I was scared but I did not want to invite that rhythm generating footsteps inside my room. My mind wandered to many places. It could be a burglar or a serial killer. Or worse, it might be a ghost.
I started observing the footstep sounds closely. The footsteps slowly paced back and forth. 15 steps to the living room and 15 to the kitchen. I could not sleep that night. Somehow I slept somewhere near dawn and these thoughts kept harrowing me for life.
There you have it: Story Writing on a Scary Night.
I hope you found these example stories helpful. Do let me know if you have any further doubts regarding this topic, I would love to help you clear your doubts.