Some cases were closed. Not all of them were solved.
Original horror stories from the files of the Kettleby Archive, told by Alice Kettleby — strange jobs, wrong houses, things seen at 3 a.m. Every story is fiction: names, places and events are invented. A Lou Lou Press production.
If you pressed your ear to a bedroom wall at 2 a.m. and heard someone reciting their own blood type in a calm voice, with small pauses between each answer as though reading from a form, would you knock on the door? I didn't. I'm a veterinary nurse trained to notice a breathing change, a stillness th
He said my name through the locked door, flat and bored, and the worst part was I had never told a single person at that carnival what I was called. Almost bored. How did he know it? My name is not on any carnival lanyard or posted rota, and I was twenty-four, working the Vanthorpe Ferris wheel alon
What kind of drowning man can stand perfectly still in forty feet of water? And how does he know your name? I spent nine summers as a lifeguard on Florida's Gulf coast, and I still can't answer either question. I've stopped trying. I just don't go in past my knees anymore.
Some summers end with things you can't explain. And some friends come back from the dark carrying something that was never quite human.
🎁 The story that never went up — read it free: https://louloubooks.com/horror/free?ref=yt-grandad-s-alien-happened
Amusement park horror story animated — a closing-crew technician discovers he was never alone in the underground corridor. Oliver needed the money, the shifts were straightforward, and the rule Dennis gave him on night one seemed easy enough to follow. But when the Zone C speaker pulsed like breathing, a boot print appeared pointing the wrong way, and a voice said his name through a locked mechani
Have you ever watched someone you love disappear into the dark — and come back changed — and slowly realise they've been doing it their whole life, right under your nose, without you ever knowing?
Have you ever held proof of something in your hands — four little pink lines — and then watched a doctor look right through you and say there was never anything there at all?
I clocked out at 8:47 PM and my dashboard read 11:14 — still parked on the same stretch of Lincolnshire road, two hours and twelve minutes simply gone. If you've ever experienced missing time or unexplained lights over open fields, this one will stay with you.
Have you ever been handed a list of rules for a house you're staying in, and realised — halfway through reading — that whoever wrote them had already met whatever was down there?
Have you ever walked into a corn maze and realised, halfway through, that someone had been walking behind you the whole time — and that they knew every turn before you did?
Every story is fiction: names, places and events are invented.
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A complete story, about a 15-minute read. It never went up on the channel. The link comes by email.
