Urban Legend Stories

A hitchhiker on Route 9, late at night. She gives an address. When you arrive, the family who answers says their daughter died on this road twenty years ago tonight.

A family receives letters from "The Watcher" after moving into their dream home. The house has been watched for decades. Your children will watch it too.

A girl home alone. Her dog licks her hand under the bed. The radio warns of a murderer in the area. She wakes to find her dog dead and a message written in blood.

A couple parked at Lovers' Lane. The radio announces an escaped convict with a hook for a hand. When they drive away, there is a hook hanging from the door handle.

The calls are coming from inside the house. A babysitter, two sleeping children, and a phone that keeps ringing. The police trace the call.

In 1981, a mysterious arcade cabinet appeared in Portland. Players became addicted, suffered seizures and amnesia. Men in black suits collected data from the machine nightly.

Room 261 of the Cecil Hotel. The water. Elisa Lam. A fictional account told as first-person from a guest who checked out early and later sees the news.

We stopped at a highway rest stop at 2 AM. A man in the parking lot was very friendly, very helpful, and wrong in a way I couldn't identify until we were back on the road.

Something followed me home from the bar last night. Not a person. I saw it in the window reflection. It stayed on the other side of the street, keeping pace. It was shaped like a person but it didn't move like one.

About four years ago I was walking home from a friend's place at 2 AM. I lived in a neighborhood where this was perfectly normal. I mention this because what I encountered was not normal.

In rural communities across Central and South America, there is a figure called El Silbón — the Whistler. You can hear him coming from miles away. If the whistling sounds close, he is far. If it sounds far, he is right behind you.

Between February and April of 1996, shortly after the Japanese release of Pokémon Red and Green, reports emerged of a spike in illness among Japanese children aged 7-12. The common thread was Lavender Town.