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 ears, 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 to night's micro Terror dead missed. As our
quest for candy dwindled to just a few scattered homes with their porch lights still
on, I decided to call it. I could tell my younger brother was
getting tired from walking around the neighborhood for the past two hours, and my
friend Frazier seemed to be losing interest in the whole thing anyway. That didn't
surprise me, though he barely even dressed up. Old baggy clothing and some
black paint around the eyes passed for a costume these days, I guess.
My younger brother Levi, however, did go all out for Halloween with his
costume. The little guy loved Halloween, but his slowing pace and occasional size
let me know he'd had about enough of it. I put my hand on
Levi's shoulder. You're ready to head back, little man, I asked him.
Yeah, Levi sighed heavily. My legs hurt, and I'm tharving for
one of those massive Clark bars we got from missus Crane's house. Clark bars.
Fraser scoffed, you got to hit the snickers, little dude. Clark
bars are for old people. I sneered at Frasier. What was that even
supposed to mean? He had some nerve trying to put a damper on Levi's
candy craving. If Levi wanted a Clark bar, then Levi I could have
a Clark bar. He wants a Clark bar, Frasier, I snapped at
him. Frasier galkeed at me, confused by my aggression that what would have
normally been a very mundane comment, But what he didn't realize was that I
knew something about him, something that made my blood boil, something that cost
me a great deal of misery over the last month and a half. It
doesn't really matter, Levi, wind, I just want some candy left,
go home soon, I said, I just want to make one last stop
where Frasier asked, dead missed pass, I whispered in a purposefully creepy way.
It was Halloween, after all. Levi gulped nervously, and Frasier stopped
walking along the sidewalk. Why do you want to go there, he asked.
It's Halloween night. The ghost train is said to cross the bridge every
Halloween night at nine o'clock sharp, I said, checking my watch, we
should get moving, but I want to go home, Levi whined again.
You can eat some candy on the way. I enticed him that ghost train
story is just an urban legend, Frasier said, I smiled at Frasier.
Then you should have nothing to fear. Come on, it'll be a cool
Halloween thrill. Fraser finally gave in, and with Levi now eating from his
bag of candy, he was no longer in a rush to go home.
After leaving the neighborhood, we entered the adjacent park. The trail we were
on started off paved and gradually devolved into dirt as it entered the woods,
eventually becoming nothing more than matted down vegetation. The vividly bright moon served as
our only source of light, and the constant sounds of animals like crickets and
owls surrounded us in a cold night, an eerie atmosphere. For sure,
it fit the holiday perfectly and added a darkly appropriate ambiance to what I had
planned if getting spooky out here, Levi said. I sensed that his preoccupation
with his Halloween candy had run its course, and he was now going to
be whining to go home. But we couldn't, not before we reached Dead
mist Pass. I don't see why we're coming out here. Frazier again voiced
his distaste from my little excursion. Don't you want a genuine Halloween scare?
I asked him. Sure, but with something real. The ghost train isn't
real, he insisted. But it was real, I thought, and it
was going to teach my friend a lesson. I checked my watch and saw
it was eight fifty five. Frasier was only five minutes from seeing how real
it truly was. The legend of Dead mist Pass started over a hundred years
ago when an old tiny steam locomotive, one that ran on coal and the
blood in sweat of its operators, was carrying more than a dozen criminals across
the state. The bridge in town originally called Misty Pass because of the heavy
fog that would normally settle beneath. It became known as Dead mist Pass in
the years that followed because on one faithful Halloween night, the train derailed and
plunged from the bridge into the misty, rocky terrain below. Every Halloween since,
the train is said to cross the bridge carrying the souls of the original
criminals, as well as any others it picks up along the way. The
three of us made our way up a tall, uneven embankment and finally reached
the top. Below us was the jagged ground where the train was said to
have plummeted, but beneath our feet were the old tracks. The wood was
soft and warped, the rails rusty and weak. We cautiously walked the tracks,
Levi and Fraser following my lead, until we were on the bridge.
The railings on either side of the single stretch of tracks were broken in so
many places that even the slightest misstep would secure our certain doom. I could
tell Levi was scared. He unknowingly grabbed onto my jacket and hadn't let go
since we reached the top of the embankment that placed a hand on his shoulder
and gave him a warming smile, hoping he would trust me. Okay,
this is definitely a thrill. Frasier trembled, trying not to look down.
I don't think we need a ghost train to come through. Are you scared?
I asked him. He didn't answer. He just kept concentrating on not
looking over the railings. I checked my watch. It changed from eight fifty
nine to nine o'clock. I smiled, any moment. Now, what if
a train comes LEVI asked, with a nervous stutter. Trains don't run on
these tracks anymore. Fraser said, see how broken up everything is broken?
I said, just like my trust in you. Silence surmounted us, save
for the chirping crickets and a hooting owl nearby. Fraser turned around and faced
me. He cocked his head. What do you mean by that my Randy
Johnson signed baseball, I said, the one my dad gave me the night
he died. You know how much I treasured it. What are you talking
about? Frasier nervously asked, I know how big of a Mariner's collector you
are. I said, you were always jealous of that ball. Frasier was
speechless. He looked to Levi, who let go on my jacket. In
the distance, all three of us heard the haunting whistle of a train in
Unison. We turned and faced the way we'd come, onto the tracks.
A ghost leap fog began to form, veiling us from seeing anything coming down
the tracks. Frasier turned to me, Are you accusing me of stealing your
ball? I'm not just accusing you, I'm completely blaming you. That ball
means so much to me, and now it's gone. You're the only other
Mariners Fan I know that has access to my house and my room. Frasier
let out a harsh laugh. So what you planned here? Lure me up
to dead Mist Pass and let the ghost trade take me away. Eaton once
again turned his attention to my little brother. Come on, Levi, he
said, urgingly. The train whistle blasted again, this time much louder.
The tracks we stood on began to rumble rhythmically, as if something heavy was
bounding in our direction. Fraser spun around, trying to see through the fog.
His breathing picked up noticeably, and he let out a series of small,
nervous laughs. I had him right where I wanted him. A light
dim at first, but then growing with intensity, glowed within the fog.
I couldn't believe it. The ghost train was real and it was coming.
The rumbling beneath our feet now made it difficult to stand. Levi grabbed onto
my jacket again and screamed, just as the thick fog was sliced down the
middle, burning up in the vivid glow of the train's head lamp. The
train roared at us. It was as black as night and veiled with a
wispy blue whirls of ghostly mist. I grabbed Levi by the back of his
costume and pulled him down to the ground with me. Even though I knew
it was a ghost train that would only take criminals with it, in this
case a thief, it was still a gut reaction to dive to safety.
The train roared over us and threw us, rattling the weak boards and rails
we took cover on like an earthquake. I heard Frasier's screams fade away into
nothingness. A small smirk crossed my face, knowing that the deed was done.
The thief who stole one of my most precious possessions finally paid for it.
The harsh winds from the train began to slow, and the hauntings whistle
from the ghost train echoed further down the tracks. Calmness now reigned over dead
mist pass. Enjoy your eternal ride, I uttered to myself, speaking out
to Frasier as an afterthought. I stood to my feet, watching the ghostly
mist on the tracks fade. But in the fading mist, I saw the
silhouette of someone. I squinted at them as the swirling haze evaporated. Fraser
stood there, his back to me, frozen in fear for Frasier, I
called out, my voice, carrying across the tracks. He turned around,
stunned in disbelief at what had just happened. What you done? Frasier's voice
quivered. I didn't know what to say. I truly believed the legend the
train was supposed to take him, to take Frasier for his selfish crime.
What have you done? He screamed, pointing next to me. I looked,
but didn't see anything. What was he talking about? But then I
realized and not twisted in my stomach, teasing a sharp, nauseating feeling.
LEVI, Where was LEVI? You idiot. Frasier screamed at me, I
didn't steal your precious baseball LEVI did. He traded it to some kid at
school for his shoe box full of Pokemon cards. I was speechless. I
looked from the empty space next to me where my brother once was, and
then back up to Frasier. The ghost train has a new passenger. Fraser
uttered in a terrified any motive tone. A final distant blast of the trains
whistle sent a ripple of chills down my spine. What had I done?
Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday for another scary
story. For more fun, visit our website at micro terrors dot com,
where we will also have spooky games you can print out and play like wicked
word searches, mysterious mazes, and more. Micro terrors dot com is also
where you can find us on your favorite social media and even sending 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. From micro Terrors Scary Stories for Kids