Actually Horrifying TRUE Horror Stories

Some are inherently blessed with the ability to spin words into tales, as a glass spinner creates iridescent globes and faerie wings from the thinnest strands of molten sand. They can take the small components and, with ease and finesse, lay them over one another time and time again until the moment that the masterpiece is complete. At this point the light catches on a single aspect, and sets the whole thing shining and sparkling to all who receive it. All in all, it is a beautiful thing.

I myself am not equipped with such a gift, but one of my acquaintances some time back invariably was. The subject was of no matter to him: He could make even the dullest topics become a whirl of mystery and intrigue, exciting the mind and awakening the inner eye to explore. Any dinner party at which he was in attendance ended with all ears and eyes fixated on him as he described the plain, grimy world around us in a new light. He made it richer than any of us could have previously imagined, turning watercress sellers and hansom cabs into princesses and chariots of gold. Leaving the musty rooms we had been crammed into and entering the polluted air afterwards was always a treat, for for one moment the rot of the Thames spread the scent of lavender thrilling across the city, and the mist swirling around our ankles was cool and sparkling, a Queen Mab’s tool. Each morning waking up, however, we found the magic of the previous night much faded; indeed, the lavender smell was barely more than a trace of memory in our nostrils, and the dreams we had found slinking across the pavement were now dense fogs which we cursed as they obstructed our vision. We could not peel back the layer of filth our world was wrapped in on our own: We needed his tongue to cut a small hole in the seal and let us truly see.

One night, after everyone else had left to glimpse the world beyond our own, us two sat in front of a blazing fire. In it I could see visions of knights battling dragons and heiresses fighting desperately for their inheritance. The gold and blue stories in front of me were so enthralling that I barely noticed his cough. However, I did notice, and so looked up to find him staring intently into my eyes, into my very soul. A slight ripple of discomfort slid down my spine and I sat a bit straighter, intending to address him. However, my tongue was leaden in my mouth, and my vocal chords paralyzed. The most I could do was part my lips slightly and wait for him to speak and spread his enchantment over the dull. When he did speak, it was slowly, and after several minutes of my attempting to make a sound. His dark gaze remaining steady upon mine, he parted his own lips and let the velvet of his voice roll through the room.

“There is one story I have told none of you yet,” he said quietly. “It is not one I relish, nor one that you will, but indeed, it is a story, and no story bears not telling.” I remained unable to speak, and, taking my silence as an affirmation of my willingness to listen, he sat back and began.

“Years ago, I was met with a woman by the name of Rowena. She was a misplaced goddess in our world: She glided rather than walked, and sang rather than spoke. She had the beauty of spring and the cold of a winter moon in her eye, and spoke to none but me ...

Get ready to be spooked with these 3 Actually Horrifying TRUE Horror Stories. These short horror stories will send chills down your spine and leave you looking over your shoulder. If you're a fan of horror and love a good scare, this video is a must-watch! Learn more about these chilling tales now.