Horror Stories - 3 Very Creepy TRUE Winter Horror Stories | Scary Cold Night Tales

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Starting point is 00:01:18 Also, don't forget to like and subscribe if you're enjoying the episodes. Story 1. I graduated in 1974 and had no idea what to do with my life. It was a different time. Jobs were plentiful and companies practically begged us to work for them. However, I didn't want to be trapped in a boring office job forever. I was waiting for something to fall into place. One day while flying to visit my aunt for Thanksgiving,

Starting point is 00:01:50 I found myself fascinated by the complexity of air traffic control systems. At that moment, I knew I wanted to become an air traffic controller. By the time I was 27, I had passed the exams and gained enough experience to work without supervision. But rookies like me had no choice about where to be assigned. The big airports like JFK or Hartsfield Jackson were out of reach. In my case, I ended up in a small town in Iowa called Atlantic. It was barely a landing strip in the middle of a cornfield, but I had to pay my dues, and the salary wasn't bad. Normally, small airfields like that operated only from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., but because of its location,

Starting point is 00:02:32 we had to remain open until 4 a.m. in case of emergencies. That meant spending nights in the control tower. accompanied only by a security guard who usually dozed off in the terminal. It wasn't so terrible. I brought books, solved crossword puzzles, and spent hours on the phone with my aunt. People always say that air traffic controllers have one of the most stressful jobs in the world, but I was bored 99% of the time. The other 1% was spent guiding little Cessna planes landing on the lonely strip surrounded by corn.

Starting point is 00:03:06 Everything changed three months after I started, on the night of 50s. February 20th, 1979. It was a freezing winter, no snow but cutting winds. I was covering the night shift and no flights were scheduled. Around 1 a.m. I received a radio message from a small Cessna about 30 miles away. They had flown through a snowstorm near Omaha and needed to land. I grabbed my binoculars, checked visibility, and started guiding them. The wind was brutal, but they managed to land safely. When I looked through the binoculars to confirm the landing, I saw her for the first time. She was walking across the runway barefoot, dressed in what looked like a nightgown or a summer dress. Nothing made sense.

Starting point is 00:03:50 The temperature was freezing, yet she moved calmly as if it were a warm afternoon. A thousand questions rushed through my mind. Who was she? How had she gotten there? Flight 84, this is Alex from the control tower. Do you see a woman on the runway? I asked over the radio. Oh, one moment.

Starting point is 00:04:10 Let me check. The pilot replied. Through the binoculars, I watched him climb out of the plane and approach her. He seemed to speak to her, but the woman didn't respond. Instead, she leaned toward him as if whispering in his ear. They stood motionless for several seconds until suddenly the pilot ran back to the plane. The propellers began to spin. Flight 84, what are you doing?

Starting point is 00:04:33 I shouted into the radio, but there were. was no response. The Cessna began to taxi. Flight 84, you do not have permission to take off. I repeat, you are not authorized to take off. Silence. The plane accelerated and lifted into the darkness. The radio crackled with static and then faintly, a distorted voice whispered, run. I felt the blood in my veins turned to ice. Flight 84, repeat, did you say run? I asked, but there was no reply. I collapsed into my chair trying to make sense of what had happened. Then it hit me, the woman. I raised the binoculars again, and there she was, still standing,

Starting point is 00:05:17 staring straight at me from about 200 meters away. In the absolute darkness, her eyes were wide open, too wide, like someone frozen in terror. My stomach churned. Suddenly she began to run, not jogging, running frantically, and yet she never broke eye contact with me. Joe, you there, Joe. I called the guard over the radio. No answer.

Starting point is 00:05:43 I glanced at the tower entrance and saw the door burst open. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Panicked, I bolted to the bathroom and locked the latch. As soon as it clicked into place, I heard the control room door slam open. Chaos erupted. Papers flying, equipment crashing, and a deep guttural sound filling the air. Curled up behind the bathroom door, I peeked through the keyhole and caught a glimpse of a shadow darting erratically around the room. It moved too fast to be human.

Starting point is 00:06:13 Suddenly a deafening bang shook the door. I nearly screamed. Then, absolute silence. I didn't move until morning. At 7.45, I heard Clark, the daytime controller, shouting, What the hell happened here? I opened the door and the room was wrecked. Radar screen smashed, radios ripped from their mouths.

Starting point is 00:06:36 Paper scattered everywhere. The police arrived and I told them every detail. They found no footprints on the frozen runway. Back then, security cameras weren't common, so there was no recording. Joe, the guard, was fired for abandoning his post. Repairs took 11 days. During that time, I convinced myself that it had all been the work of some deranged woman. On March 4th, I returned, nervous but determined,

Starting point is 00:07:02 For a month, everything was calm, until the storm came. It was night around 11 p.m. and snow was falling hard. I got a call from a private jet caught in the blizzard. They needed to land immediately. Our runway was too short for jets, but in emergencies, rules bend. Flight 676, you are cleared to land, maintain contact, I instructed. Roger, the pilot replied. Visibility was nearly zero.

Starting point is 00:07:30 I guided them as best I could through the storm. Finally, I saw their lights approaching. Relief washed over me as I watched their wheels touch down, until I saw her again. She was there at the edge of the runway, lit up by the landing lights. She hadn't aged a day. The same dress, the same unnaturally wide fixed gaze. Flight 676, do you see anyone on the runway? I asked. Negative, the pilot responded.

Starting point is 00:08:00 I adjusted the binoculars. She was gone. Suddenly static exploded on the radio. A voice whispered, Alex, my heart froze. Who is this? I demanded. Run, the voice hissed. The tower lights flickered. A thunderous crash shook the stairs.

Starting point is 00:08:21 The footsteps were back, faster, closer. I didn't wait. I bolted down the other exit, slipping on the icy steps. outside the wind howled and snow-wiped my face the terminal was dark and empty i sprinted to my car fumbling with the keys when i looked back a shadow loomed against the tower it was her barefoot standing in the snow watching me the engine roared to life i didn't look back as i sped away the next day i resigned years later i heard rumors locals spoke of a woman who had died on that runway decades earlier. Some said she was still trying to find her way home, others that she was a warning, or even a curse. I don't know what she really was, but I will never forget those eyes. Before moving on to the next story, if this is your first time here, don't forget to subscribe to our channel and turn on the bell so you won't miss the next horror stories. Your support is

Starting point is 00:09:22 essential. Share these stories with your friends and family. Thank you. Story two. I suppose my story begins a long time ago when I was about six or seven years old. I was playing in the backyard with my ball, kicking it back and forth when it flew into my neighbor's yard. The fence separating our houses seemed enormous to me at that age, and the only gap was next to a huge tree that grew right on the property line. When they built the houses, they apparently decided the tree was too beautiful to cut down, so they placed the fence on either side of its trunk. With the determination of a seven-year-old, I squeezed through the wood in the tree, nearly getting stuck and scraping my leg on a nail in the process. With one final effort I made it through, and just as I was looking at the wound,

Starting point is 00:10:14 I heard a voice from beneath the tree say, You're bleeding. Looking closer, I saw a girl about my age. I wasn't too surprised because I already knew of Ruby. I had heard my mother talk about our neighbors with her friends. Her father was a drinker, and her mother had abandoned them when Ruby was very young. Sometimes with the windows open, you could hear his shouting at the girl. My mother would only click her tongue and mutter. Poor thing, but nobody did anything. Things were just like that back then. Come to the house, let's wash that cut, she told me. I obediently followed her, although our houses must have been identical when built. Mine was well kept and shiny while hers looked worn and messy. She had barely finished cleaning the blood from my leg. She had barely finished cleaning the blood

Starting point is 00:11:01 from my leg when the front door slammed open. Ruby turned pale and froze. Before we could react, her father stormed into the kitchen. Without a word, he slapped her so hard she flew against the wall. Then he growled at me. Get out of my house. I ran as fast as I could, across the yard and through the fence, my legs trembling. That night, the shouting from her house was worse than ever. I buried my head in the pillow in bed. The next day I couldn't resist checking on her. I carefully slipped through the gap again and sat beneath the big tree to wait. After a while Ruby came out. She looked pale but happy to see me.

Starting point is 00:11:41 I didn't want to get her in trouble, but she explained that morning she had had a long talk with her father and that he had promised to stop drinking. She told me the tree was magical. If you sat under its shade and wished hard enough, what you asked for would come true. She had wished her father would stop hitting her, and according to her,

Starting point is 00:12:01 ever would again. What more proof did I need? Besides, Ruby was six months older than me, which made her seem wiser in my eyes. That became our ritual. After school, we met under the wishing tree to play, make up silly games, or as we grew older, to talk. Sometimes she rested her head on my shoulder while I told her about my day. Other times, we shared my MP3 players' headphones and listen to music. She always asked for the song Ruby by Kaiser Chiefs and joked that it had been written for her. I only remember one argument between us, and it was at my 13th birthday party. I had invited her, she promised to come but never showed up. I even dared to knock on her door. My mother would have killed me if I'd risk dirtying my party clothes by slipping

Starting point is 00:12:51 through the fence, but her father told me she wasn't there. After the party, I changed and went to the tree. She was there waiting. Hurt, I accused her. What kind of friend stands me up like that? She replied, look at me, Jack. Really look at me. I don't fit in with your friends. I looked. Her long, dark hair fell wildly down her back. Her eyes were deep black smudges, and she wore an old dress meant for a ten-year-old barely covering her legs. I don't have party clothes or a gift to give you. I'm sorry. At that moment my heart pounded in my chest. I fell in love with her with all the intensity a 13-year-old boy can feel. One day I'll get you out of here, I promised. There beneath the wishing tree, she whispered that she wished I would keep that promise.

Starting point is 00:13:44 The last time I spoke to Ruby was also there under the tree. I was about to leave for college and asked her why she didn't leave too. She answered that she had to stay to remind her father of the monster he was when he drank. One day I'll be free and leave this place, she said. I haven't forgotten what you promised me. I hadn't forgotten either, though the heart is fickle, especially when guided by passion. At college, I met a girl named Jenny. Just before graduation, we discovered she was pregnant. It wasn't what I had planned for my life, but I was happy. We moved in with my parents. I got a job at my father's factory, and we got married. then the house next door was in ruins. Ruby's father had died and she was gone. Six months later,

Starting point is 00:14:31 I bought the house from my parents and they moved somewhere smaller, but then things started to get strange. Jenny and I weren't getting along. You know what they say. Marion Haste, repentant leisure. One summer night we were in the garden. My parents had placed a swing beneath the wishing tree, which was now twisted and dead. While we argued, one of those talks were, where suddenly everything wrong in Jenny's life was my fault. There was a pause. Suddenly she rested her head on my shoulder and began humming ruby. My skin crawled and I almost jumped up from the seat.

Starting point is 00:15:08 God, you're giving me a headache, she snapped, storming angrily into the house. I thought about it for months, about my ruby, and how much I missed her. What had become of her? Yesterday everything came to a head. Over the winter the dead tree had become unstable, and with a strong wind, a huge branch fell into the yard. I hired someone to cut it down. That morning I got a call from the police while I was at work. They had found a body buried beneath the wishing tree, the corpse of a seven-year-old girl.

Starting point is 00:15:42 It couldn't be her. I had known her older, but when I got home, my parents were there. The police had contacted them too since they had been neighbors at the time. They remembered that night perfectly. The argument after her father caught me in the house, the screams of a little girl. They also remembered never seeing her again. In fact, they had reported it to the authorities at the time. But her father said her mother had taken her away, and no one could prove otherwise.

Starting point is 00:16:11 I remembered her words. He can't hit me anymore. We talked at length this morning. I thought that if anything could keep a man like that in check, it was the ghost of the little girl he had murdered. Now that her remains have been found, I wondered if Ruby had finally been freed. And here comes my confession. Jenny had been away for a few days with our son, visiting her parents because she needed space. She told me that when she came back, she would pack her things and leave me. But within just a couple of hours of her return, I noticed a huge change. She, always so controlling,

Starting point is 00:16:47 always immaculate, was now sitting in the living room searching vacation down. She, was now sitting in the living room, searching vacation destinations online. Half an hour after coming back, she curled up beside me, rested her head on my shoulder, and asked if we could finally go on a trip like I had promised. Her hair cascaded down her back, and on the stereo, Ruby by Kaiser Chiefs was blaring at full volume. And what do I plan to do?

Starting point is 00:17:12 Nothing. I will take my wife to travel the world, just as I promised Ruby when we were 13. Before moving on, if this is your first time here, don't forget to subscribe to our channel and turn on the notification bell so you won't miss our upcoming chilling stories. Your support means a lot. Share these tales with your friends and family. Thank you. Story 3.

Starting point is 00:17:40 I had always dreamed of spending a weekend alone in a cabin hidden deep in the woods. I imagined a place surrounded by snow-covered trees, where the silence was so absolute it felt as though time had stopped. So when I found a small, cheap cabin for rent online, I didn't hesitate to book it. It was perfect. Me, my books, a lit fireplace, and the calm of winter. The journey there was long and winding. The road was narrow and the snow fell nonstop, making visibility difficult. By the time I arrived, the sky had turned gray and darkness was starting to settle.

Starting point is 00:18:17 The cabin looked old but sturdy, wooden walls, a steep roof blanketed with thick snow. It stood in the middle of the forest, far from any other home. I parked the car, grabbed my bag, and hurried inside. Outside the air cut like knives, and my fingers were numb despite my gloves. Inside it was warmer, though the place smelled of damp and stale air, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. The living room was small with a fireplace, a sofa, and a worn-out rug. The kitchen was basic with old appliances and mismatched dishes.

Starting point is 00:18:50 A narrow staircase led to a tiny bedroom upstairs. After unpacking my things, I lit the fireplace. Heat spread quickly, and the flickering glow of the flames gave the room a cozy atmosphere. I made a cup of tea and sat on the sofa, listening to the wind howling outside. At first I felt at peace, but as night wore on, I began to notice something odd. The silence of the cabin was too intense, as if the whole forest were holding its breath. I shook off the feeling and decided to go to bed early. The mattress was lumpy, and the blankets had a faint smell of mold, but fatigue went out.

Starting point is 00:19:29 Outside, the wind grew stronger, battering the windows. I told myself it was just the storm and closed my eyes. At some point during the night, a strange noise woke me. At first I thought it was the wind, but listening closely I realized it was footsteps, slow heavy steps, crunching the snow just outside. My heart began to pound in my chest. I tried convincing myself it was an animal, maybe a deer or a fox, but the steps were too deliberate. They sounded human.

Starting point is 00:20:01 I lay frozen holding my breath, listening. The footsteps stopped right in front of the cabin. There was a pause and then suddenly I heard the doorknob rattle. Someone was trying to get in. My mind raced. Who could possibly be out here in the middle of the forest at this hour, with the next nearest town miles away and the road nearly impassable because of the snow. I had no phone signal, and I hadn't seen a single neighbor around. Grabbing the heavy flashlight from the nightstand,

Starting point is 00:20:31 I crept downstairs in silence, careful not to let the floor creak. The living room was dark, lit only by the dying embers in the fireplace. From there I could see the front door. It wasn't moving, the sound had stopped. I waited, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it could be heard outside. Then I saw a shadow. It passed slowly across the window. Whoever it was, they were circling the cabin, looking for a way in. I gripped the flashlight tightly. My palms were slick with sweat despite the cold.

Starting point is 00:21:05 I wanted to run but where. The forest was a maze, and the snow would swallow me in seconds. The silhouette appeared again, this time closer to the back. I remembered that the kitchen door had only a flimsy latch, barely a bolt that wouldn't withstand a good shove. I tiptoed toward it, holding my breath. I looked at the door and for a moment everything was still. Then a violent bang rattled the wood. I jumped, nearly dropping the flashlight. The intruder was trying to force their way in. I backed away, clutching the flashlight like a weapon, eyes desperately searching for anything else to defend myself with. Another blow shook

Starting point is 00:21:45 the door and this time the latch gave way. The door burst open, letting in a rush of freezing air and snow. In the dim light, I made out a tall figure with broad shoulders, wrapped in dark, heavy clothing. Their face was hidden under a hood. They stepped inside, their boots crunching on the wood floor. I stood frozen, unable to move. They didn't speak, didn't rush me, just stood there watching. I backed away slowly, legs trembling. The stranger tilted. their head slightly and took another step forward. That broke the spell. I bolted upstairs, slammed the bedroom door shut, and shoved the bed against it with shaking hands. Downstairs, the footsteps continued, slow, deliberate, as though they had all the time in the world.

Starting point is 00:22:33 Every creek of the floorboards made me shudder. They didn't seem to be searching for anything. Rather, they were waiting. I curled up in the corner of the room, clutching the flashlight so tightly my fingers hurt. Minutes dragged on, each one stretching into eternity. Suddenly the footsteps began climbing the stairs. I held my breath praying they would leave. The sound drew nearer, closer, until it stopped right outside the door. I could see the shadow of their feet beneath the crack in the wood. They didn't try to open it. They just stood there, silent, waiting. I don't know how long it lasted, but eventually the shadow moved. I heard them to send the steps. They were to send the steps, then the creek of the front door opening and closing. After that, silence. I didn't leave

Starting point is 00:23:21 the room until morning. When I finally gathered the courage to go downstairs, the cabin was empty. The back door hung open, snow spilling onto the kitchen floor. I didn't want to know who it had been or what they wanted. I grabbed my keys, ran to the car, and drove back to town as fast as I could. If you enjoy these stories, don't forget to subscribe and hit the notification bell to get more terrifying tales. Your support is essential. Share this content with friends and family. Thank you.

Horror Stories - 3 Very Creepy TRUE Winter Horror Stories | Scary Cold Night Tales

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