I never did, only because he’s been a family friend my whole life and I still use him without any problem. A sketchy mechanic would usually make total sense though!

About five years ago I was in my early twenties, working my first full-time job and living at home with my parents while I saved money. My parents’ house is on an acre of land in rural Oregon, about a 15 minute drive in each direction to the surrounding small towns. My dad, being the curmudgeon-y “get off my lawn”…

That’s lovely.

My stepgrandmother was a very religious woman...church every day, prayers before every meals, you get it. She also lived to a ripe old age and was well and “with it” all the way through. She only lived with her daughter towards the very end of her life and even then, it was more out of convenience than need.

It was believable up until the point where you decided to wear head to toe thrift stores clothes without washing them first. 

This happened 20+ years ago and while it’s perhaps more of an intuition story than a ghost story, it still gives me the chills to think about it.

Yet another reason to miss Charlie Jane.

I have struggled with insomnia for years. I usually just toss and turn in bed, or sometimes get up and walk around, but I make a point not to turn on lights, or the tv, or my computer or anything like that. So one night around 3 am, I can’t sleep and I’m pacing a bit, and something draws me to look out the window…

Oh goody! My husband and I met cute 42 years ago.
I’d recently broken up with a real bastard and vowed I would never date again unless I knew the guy was a kind hearted person. All I wanted to do was hang out with my girlfriends and recover from the emotional abuse I’d experienced.

Urban hide-and-seek tag. A literal chase. One week he slipped and scraped his arm and I tied my bandana over where it was bloody.

Nah, I responded by signing the contract for my fourth book. 

The Lyrical Lycan

I’m assuming this was the winner of this year’s Jezebel Scary Stories Contest...

GOOD FOR YOU and fuck that fucking creepazoid. SSDGM.

About 10 years ago, I worked in a small office in the downtown of a midwestern city that has only recently seen a revival. Currently, this area is full of lofts, businesses, bars, and people having fun. At the time, though, it was dirty, full of empty buildings, and generally less pleasant after sundown. We were a…

It’s done! I have a PDF with 364 pages of scary stories but I’m having trouble figuring out how to disperse this thing. Help?

“Actually shops at a farmer’s market” should start shopping at actual farms. This shit goes down all the time at the farmer’s market too.

Longtime fan of this contest, first time story-haver!

A Souvenir From the Stanley Hotel

“The Dancing Doll”