Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's always the spooky season,
full of chills, thrills, and spine tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are
family friendly frights for those ages eight and up, and while our stories are
for younger years, we are still talking about things that go bump in the
night, and some children may not be able to handle what others can.
Parental consent is recommended now for tonights micro terror. Dominion of Dread by Scott
Donnelly Gajaminster under My Dad, Alex told his parents when he was just four
years old. They didn't believe him. They said it was his imagination,
just nightmares stemming from something he'd seen on YouTube. Were some weird dark podcast
his father would occasionally play when he thought Alex wasn't listening. Gay jamiester under
my Bed, Alex told his parents on the night of his eighth birthday Again.
Alex's father said. His parents rolled their eyes and didn't want to believe
that their child had held on to such an irrational fear for so long.
But it wasn't just again. It was still every single night for Alex was
consumed by an unshakable terror that gripped him whenever the sun set and the night
lights kicked on. All throughout the house beneath Alex's bed wasn't just in a
rational fear, like his parents assumed. There was something else there, a
malevolent force that tortured each and every single one of his nights. It began
when he was only four years old, innocently enough, subtle creaks and cracks
on the wooden floors that could have easily been blamed on the old house they
lived in, just settling over time. Months later, the creeks and cracks
were replaced by shadows moving around his room and haunting whispers that he couldn't quite
decipher. Most nights, Alex could feel a sinister gaze fixed upon him,
watching him try to sleep, studying each of the nervous, anxiety filled breaths
he took. Alex's bedroom had become a dark dominion of dread, But whenever
he was able to muster up enough courage to look under the bed, he
never saw anything. Each shine a flash light when the lights were out.
Nothing he'd looked during the day. Nothing, No wonder. They don't believe
me, Alex thought of his parents. This thing is smart. One night,
the ghostly entity seemed to grow bold. Its icy, rotten breath whispered
alarming threats into Alex's ear. Its unseen hands, surprisingly smooth and gentle,
brushed against his trembling exposed arms and legs. The spirit had insured that sleeping
was no longer an option for Alex. It had burrowed too deeply into his
head for that to be a possibility. The terror continued night after night.
Unable to sleep, Alex decided to start documenting his experiences and what he felt.
He drew images of what he thought the spirit or entity would look like.
He made notes that detailed occurrences, times, and dates when things were
happening. He was out to prove to his parents that his experiences weren't those
of an overactive imagination or nightmare, and that his nightly horrors had gone on
too long. All Alex wanted was one night's sleep. Heck, at this
point, he wished it were a nightmare. At least that would have meant
he was actually falling asleep. Two weeks into Alex's documenting, the spirit took
things to a new level. It reached under Alex's blankets, grabbed him by
the ankles and yanked him out of bed. As Alex's body smacked the floor,
he felt the presence of more than one spirit drift away into the darkness
that was it. Alex had had enough forget documenting the experiences. There had
to be actual answers as to what was going on, as to who or
what was torturing him night after night. The next day, Alex's parents dropped
him off at the library at his request. With a stack of books in
front of him. He sat in a small, enclosed study room and delved
into his town's history. A knock on the glass door made Alex jump.
He looked up and saw an elderly man, one of the librarians standing there.
In his grip was an old, dusty book. Alex waved him in.
I noticed your interest in Mill Brooks's history, the old librarian wheezed,
pointing to the stack of local history books on the table. Yes, sair,
Alex said, you might find this one useful as well, the librarian
added. He sat the book down on the table and left Alex to his
research. Alex opened the new book, which was so old that he feared
it would fall apart as he skimmed through the pages, but that fear quickly
dissipated when his focus landed on a specific page, one that featured a sketch
of an old house from nineteen twenty four on Bedlam Street in Millbrook. That
was Alex's street, and that was his house. Alex read the chapter many
years ago, A family of five lived there, a mother, a father,
a daughter, and two sons. A fire broke out and all five
members of the family slept through it. All five of them perished in the
blaze. The next day, the charred remains of the house were investigated,
and it was determined that the house was intentionally set on fire. Clues found
in and around the remains led investigators to a small cult of dark worshippers that
operated in the woods nearby. Shockingly, they claimed responsibility a bizarre belief that
the grounds the house stood on were sacred to the dark god they worshiped,
and only a sacrificial inferno every one hundred years would appease him. Something clicked
in Alex's brain, something he hadn't thought of until now. Until he had
this information, there was never a reason for him to have thought this before.
He took the information he had and went home that night, when the
sun set and the night lights kicked on. He lay there awake, just
as the spirit or spirits, as he now assumed, wanted him to.
They didn't want him to sleep. They wanted him to stay awake to avoid
the same fate that they and their entire family had met. It was a
little after midnight when Alex felt the first brush of cold air. He sat
up and waited. He saw a shadow cross in front of one of his
night lights, making it flicker, then heard the creepy, inaudible whispers.
I know what happened to you, Alex said, softly enough to not wake
his parents, who were asleep just down the hall. He felt the room
fall still and the air grow increasingly colder, as if the spirits were triggered.
I know you all burned Togeth in the fire. I'm sorry for what
happened to your family. Alex waited for a response, but the room remained
silent and cold. Alex's breath was now coming out in visible puffs that he
could see in the dim, flickering nightlight. I know why you're trying to
keep me awake. You don't want me and my family to meet the same
fate as you and yours. Alex said, thank you, But that was
one hundred years ago. The cult is long gone. There is no danger
of history repeating itself. Suddenly, an icy gust blew through the room,
spinning the ghostly apparition of a young girl at the side of his bed.
There is one left. Her small, innocent voice, echoed one nast descendant
of the cultists. Two more apparitions appeared on either side of her, two
boys, her brothers. All three of them looked sad and concerned. You
must leave. One of the boys said, these rounds are sacred to them.
He knows you know. The other one said, and he's going to
appease their dark god to night. Alex tried to remain brave, but couldn't
hide his nerves. I won't let that happen. If he succeeds, he
will forever be The little girl began before her wispy, fluttering appearance suddenly fell
motionless. The cold air was abruptly sucked out of the room, ushering in
an uncomfortable warmth. Alex felt his chest start to tighten up. The ghost
children all disappeared, fading away into the darkness, then out of nowhere,
the flickering nightlight exploded from the outlet. A flame ripped through, climbed up
the wall, and filled the room with a pulsing orange glow. Alex's heart
nearly ripped out of his chest when he saw an old man standing at the
foot of his bed, punched over and smiling at him, with a mouth
full of crooked teeth and wrinkled to skin. Alex immediately recognized him as the
elderly librarian from earlier in the day. It's a shiit, the old man
wheezed in a sinister tone. The last family slept through their fiery demise.
They had no idea what was happening to them. You, on the other
hand, are going to feel every raging, smoldering moment because those darn ghost
kids kept you awake. You can blame them for every ounce of pain you
will feel. I won't let you take us, Alex growled, not like
the last family, or however many others came before. The old man smiled
larger. You're wrong. I will appease the dark God as my ancestors have
for centuries, and being the last of my bloodline, his satisfaction will guarantee
me an eternal place at his side. The fire continued to crawl up the
wall, teasing the ceiling, where a smoke detector would sound off at any
moment. Alex saw the flames growing in intensity and then turned to the old
man. He smirked. He had a muster under my bed, Alex said.
The old man cocked his head, but not one did I fear?
Alex continued, it's one you should fear, and it's about to put a
gamper on your sacrificial inferno. The old man laughed maniacally. What are you
talking about, boy? Alex dropped to the ground and rolled underneath his bed,
where he'd hit a fire extinguisher earlier in the day. After reading about
the history of his home, he jumped up on the other side of his
bed, pulled the pin, aimed the hose, and squeezed the handle.
A powerful jet of white foam shot out and blasted the wall. Alex aimed
for the outlet first and then ran it up the height of the wall.
The old man was stunned. He didn't expect Alex to be one step ahead
of him. Even though the old coltist seemed to have supernatural assistance in starting
the fire, it was still just fire, nothing the fire extinguisher wasn't capable
of handling, and something that the family one hundred years ago didn't have the
luxury of having stop it. The old man snarled. The black smoke from
the fire turned gray and quickly rose to the ceiling, setting off the smoke
alarm. The alarm screamed, and the old man fumed with anger. He
climbed over the bed and lunged at Alex, but Alex swung the fire extinguisher,
clocking the old man across the face. He stumbled backwards and crashed out
the window, falling to the yard below. Alex's parents rushed into the room,
panicking and screaming, and picking up their son to get him out of
the house. When the fire department arrived, the fire chief commended Alex for
his bravery. It wasn't for his quick thinking with the fire extinguisher, the
house would have been completely engulfed in flames within minutes. When the police arrived
and saw the old man still lying on the ground outside, they arrested him
and charged him with arson. After Alex explained what had happened, he left
out all the parts that included ghosts, cults and dark gods, since the
chances of anyone believing him were paper thin. But just knowing the last of
the dark worshippers was behind bars, probably for the rest of his life,
was enough comfort for him. A month later, Alex and his parents were
able to move back into their home after renovations were done to fix the fire
damage. The first night back, Alex's bedroom no longer felt like a dominion
of dread, but more of a sanctuary of peace. The ghostly presence was
gone, and he felt relaxed. That night, for the first time in
years, Alex slept soundly. Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join
us each Saturday for another scary story. For more fun, visit our website
at microterrors dot com, where we will also have spooky games you can print
out and play like Wicked word searches, mysterious mazes, and more. Microterrors
dot Com is also where you can find us on your favorite social media and
even send in your own scary story for us to tell. Plus you'll learn
more about our author, Scott Donnelly, who has other horrors for both young
and old. I hope you'll join me again soon for micro terrors, scary
stories for kids at