r/scarystories

My job is pretty simple. Clock in at 8:00pm, walk around the chainlink fence surrounding the mine shaft every 30-45min, and watch the security cameras.

The mine has been abandoned since the 80s. Elevator shaft down sealed off, and a fence erected around the whole thing. Corporate’s official story was that the mine had run dry and was no longer profitable. Any local family would tell you the real story was that too many miners had gone missing, their bodies never found; and no one wanted to go back down the mine, no matter how much they raised the pay.

I didn’t know why they needed such tight security for an abandoned mine. But I wasn’t about to question it, the pay was amazing.

I had been at this job a month and already had my routines down. Start a pot of coffee as soon as I get there, and check in with the day shift security guard. There was usually nothing to report. A couple of kids tried to sneak in to the mine to get drunk, a tweaker came by looking for copper wire, the normal stuff expected in a place like this.

I had just finished with the coffee when the day shift security guard, Mack, approached me.

“It’s been pretty quiet around here. But something did happen that I can’t really explain.”

He took me outside the office and showed me a spot in the chain link fence that has been ripped open. “I couldn’t tell you how this happened, I didn’t see anybody on the monitors, and didn’t hear anything either.”

As I got closer to the fence I noticed that the edges of the hole that was now there were ragged and curved outwards at all different angles, some kind of viscous black substance coated the entire affected area. The smell was enough to dissuade me from inspecting any further.

“It doesn’t seem like kids with bolt cutters, they usually just jump the fence anyway.”

We walked back to the office and started to watch the security footage from around that time. But just as we got to the correct time stamp the file was gone. The error message read “file manually deleted”.

Mack had no answer other than he hadn’t even thought to check the security cameras before I got here. As he was leaving for the day he asked me if I could write up the incident report. Just as he was about to go both of our attention turned towards the mine shaft. The groan of old steel cables echoed throughout the quarry. The elevator was moving.

When it finally reached the entrance to the tunnel, we hurried over to the security cameras. There was one installed right above the shaft entrance. There was nothing there. The elevator didn’t go back down.

“Old girl must’ve finally died, that same thing happened earlier too. Probably some weird electrical surge. You mind writing up the report for all this?”

Uneasy as I was I didn’t mind, it gave me something to do to pass the time. I watched him pull away, the dust from his tires fading into the night. The sun had set, and I started settling down for the long haul.

Just as I finished firing off the email to corporate world, my alarm went off. Time for my first round of the night. It was about 9:30 when I stepped out of the office. One thing I enjoyed about this job was the remoteness, no light pollution, you could see every star in the sky.

It took me at least five minutes of walking before I realized how unnaturally dark it was. My flashlight was little help tonight, what light it did put out was swallowed up by the vast expanse of darkness after more than five feet.

I realized there were no stars in the sky that night, no moon. And the more I kept walking the more uneasy I started to feel. I’d usually hear a coyote or two, an owl. Nothing.

I convinced myself that it was just overcast and pushed on. The fence surrounding the mine shaft went on for 1.5 mile. Walking at my usual pace it would take me about 20-25 minutes.

I made It back in 15. As I sat down the computer dinged. I’d actually received a response from corporate.

“REPAIR FENCE IMMEDIATELY. IF SOMETHING APPROACHES YOU DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE IT.”

I was not about to go out there again. The morning crew could handle it. Settled into my chair and halfway through my first pot of coffee I started to notice a stench seeping into the office. It was pungent, and oddly sweet, and as the minutes passed it grew stronger.

I couldn’t stand the smell anymore and needing fresh air I finally decided to go outside and repair the fence. The only sound as I started walking was the sound of my own footsteps and the tools shifting around in the tool box.

I was in a hurry and grabbed way too much and ended up dropping the flashlight. It flickered off as the batteries fell out and everything scattered in a different direction. I stopped walking abruptly and was about to bend down when I heard soft foot falls behind me that stopped just a second after I did.

I stiffened. Something in me told me not to turn around. I turned on my head lamp and picked back up my tool box and kept walking towards the fence, leaving the flashlight behind. Every step I took was matched by another pair of steps behind me, always a second or two after.

Finally arriving at the fence I immediately set to work. I found even more of the viscous substance, it coated not only the fence but the ground around it. It was exactly the same odor that had come into the office. Slipping my gloves on and the strongest pair of pliers I had, I began folding the broken chain links inward.

I had almost forgotten about the footsteps when I heard something shift behind me. The smell grew stronger. And the air felt wet and heavy. I trembled as I kept working. Keenly aware that whatever was behind me had no intention of leaving.

I could feel it stoop down, and kneel behind me. Mimicking the position I was in. Hot, shallow breath hit the back of my neck and made my hair stand on edge. My grip tightened on the pliers I was holding, I needed to move faster.

The breathing behind me eventually fell into almost perfect sync with mine, always a second or two behind.

I finished the last repair and stood up slowly. It stood up too. I kept my head down and started walking back to the security office. It followed.

Every step I took was echoed back to me. I started picking up the pace, and so did it. And suddenly the steps were in perfect sync with mine. No more delay.

I had the security office in sight when the footsteps disappeared, and something l appeared in front of me. It caught me so off guard I didn’t have time to look away.

I found myself staring at….me. Or someone’s impression of me if you were trying to describe me to somebody.

It had the same scar on my eyebrow from when I fell off of my bike when I was six. The same gap in my front tooth, but everything was slightly off. Eyes were crooked, nose sitting too low, the skin was pulled too tight, and sallow in color.

I had no choice to acknowledge it, and it knew. It raised a hand, slowly like it took effort, the skin hanging from the bones and pointed an unnaturally long finger at me.

“Switch.”

I dropped everything I had and started running. I knew it was close behind me. It hadn’t learned to mimic my run, and I could hear its awkward gait struggling to keep up.

Slamming and locking the door I sunk to my knees. I could hear it just outside the door. It’s shallow breathing momentarily out of sync with mine.

I checked the security cameras live feed. A figure cloaked in darkness was climbing through the hole in the fence. I couldn’t make out much from the security feed, all I could occasionally see was a thin pale arm, and the shine of their eyes. From behind the fence the figure stood up and looked right at the security camera.

They stood there watching for a full minute before vanishing into the darkness. My eyes were fixed on the security cameras when this time my phone lit up.

It was my boss.

“DO NOT GO OUTSIDE AGAIN. SHUT ALL THE BLINDS AND DO NOT WATCH THE SECURITY FEED ANYMORE. ITS WATCHING YOU BACK.”

I’ve never moved faster. Shutting the blinds was the easy part, turning off the security feed without looking was going to be a challenge.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked over to the desktop. Reaching for the mouse I began slowly trying to power it down, using only my peripherals to guide me.

I thought I had it when the screen lit up with the one of the security feeds taking up the entire screen. It was the one just outside the security office door.

It was there looking right in the camera. It’s eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t look away. I stumbled backwards and fell my head cracking against the floor. The last thing I heard before I passed out was “switch…”

I woke up to the sun streaming in through the blinds and my boss kneeling beside me. He told me Mack had come in and found me unresponsive. I stood up with his help and went straight for the desktop; and I immediately tried to find the security footage from last night.

I was met with the error massage “File manually deleted.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, “the company likes to deal with these things internally.”

I was sent home for two weeks on what they call “mental health leave.” On my return I was going to be given a partner and a substantial raise. The fence had apparently been repaired and “reinforced,” The elevator permanently decommissioned.

It was the night before I was suppose to return to work, I felt mostly fine other than the goose egg on the back of my head.

I was brushing my teeth when I caught my reflection in the mirror, and something felt off. I know what my face looks like, I’ve looked at it everyday for 25 years. My proportions seemed..off.

I put my hand to my face, it felt tight and papery. The tan I once had was replaced by a sickly yellow color. My eyes seemed sunken in and dull.

I’m typing this now because I don’t know what will happen when I return to work tomorrow night. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but I need the money.

If you’re reading this and I haven’t updated, don’t try and research the mine, don’t try and find this place. Something might try and switch places with you.

My grandfather died recently. I was always closest to him, the rest of the family thought he was senile, telling weird stories he swears really happened to him. Apart from the odd tales, he wasn’t a particularly strange or mysterious man, but he always refused to talk about a specific period of his life. Whenever someone would ask him, he would always say, “oh, I don’t remember that time.” Despite my repeated pressures, he stuck to it and never said anything. In fact, I think that my persistence might have been what made him leave me the map.
It was the only thing he left me; and for all intents and purposes it was a regular map of Wisconsin, apart from one thing. There was another road leading out of Rhinelander. It headed north-east into the forest, and to a small town called Ashborough, which was circled multiple times in red marker. I checked it against multiple other maps, but couldn’t find the town anywhere.
Eventually, I gave up trying to find it on modern maps and started to wonder if it was a place from my grandfather’s childhood that just wasn’t there anymore. I headed to the library to check out whether I could find anything. Through the microfiche I managed to find one article on the town. It said that in the early 1960s (soon after my grandfather was born) the town was completely abandoned. There was an investigation done, but there weren’t any concrete suspicions of wrongdoing or strange activity that would make hundreds of people leave somewhere. I read further into the article, and it said that allegedly, the town was abandoned due to government experimentation that made it unsafe. The things it was saying seemed ridiculous: mind control and dimension warping, I dismissed it as the ravings of a crackpot with a vivid imagination.
But naturally, I felt that I had to go there and see for myself, so I got in my car and started driving. It was smooth going for the most part, and when I got out of Rhinelander, I stopped at a little diner on the side of the road to get a bite to eat. The diner was one of those ‘50s style deals, with the jukebox and flashy colours. When I got my food, I asked the server if she knew anything.
“Hey, have you heard of Ashborough?” I asked.
“Sure, it’s that town that got abandoned years ago. What about it?”
“I’m headed there now; my grandfather grew up there, I think. Just wondered if anyone knew anything about it.”
“Can’t say I know much, but the owner of this place is pretty old, maybe she’ll know something. I’ll go ask.”
“Thanks.”
I sat there and ate for a couple of minutes when the server came back with an old woman of about eighty.
“Hi, are you the owner?” I asked.
“Yep, that’s me,” she said. “Heard you wanna know ‘bout Ashborough.”
“That’s right, what happened there?”
“Depends. You plannin’ on goin’?”
“Yeah. My grandfather left me a map with the town circled on it. I assumed it meant he wanted me to go there.”
“Hm. In that case, turn back now and forget the whole thing,” she said sharply.
“Why? Is it dangerous or something?”
“That’s one way to put it. There’s a dam good reason why no folk roun’ here ever gone back.”
“Well, I’m going either way. So you can either sit there trying to persuade me, or you can give me some actual advice.”
The old woman sighed in defeat.
“Fine. If you want advice, then I’ll give it you. When you get there, you’ll see a sign pointing to the Churchground. Whatever you do, whatever you find, do not under any circ’mstances go there. Stay away from the church.” With that dramatic flourish, the old woman got up and walked off.
I finished my meal and left the diner, the old woman’s words still on my mind. Churchground? What did she mean? What could be so bad about a church? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. It was something to worry about later, if I actually managed to find the town.
I drove down a series of country lanes in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick woods, with no other car to be seen. I felt uneasy, like something was unsettled in my gut. It was as if there was something trying to stop me from going. Eventually I saw an old, battered sign and made the turning towards Ashborough.

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I think that, in this day and age, you have to be a certain kind of parent to hire a birthday clown for your child’s party. I know, I know, sometimes families can’t afford the big bouncy house, or a mini zoo, or something else big, but Clowns should stick to amusement parks and shows. Not that my family had much of a choice back then. 

My family isn’t well off, lower middle class would be a good place to put us. Barely above that line. A couple of days before my little sister’s tenth birthday, I came back home from school to hear my parents talking about the party. When they noticed me, I saw their smiles and knew I couldn’t really rain on their parade. My dad told me the news, “I found someone cheap. Same clown company we used when you kids were little.” 

I immediately knew which one he meant, and that meant I was going to be creeped out the whole time. It was that weird clown again. Every year the same one. When my older brother came back home and heard the news, he wasn’t as creeped out, it felt like he always forgot that weirdo, same with my other sister. Neither of them ever want to talk about him, they just seem to forget whenever he leaves. Anyway, I had to prepare, make sure the back gate was unlocked so I could make a quick getaway, maybe hide out at a friend’s house until after the clown was gone. I just didn’t want to see that wide smile again. 

The day of the party came a lot faster than I expected. A friend was already waiting with some games and food being delivered in a couple of hours. Then the van arrived.

No company name.
No phone number.
Just “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” plastered on the side in bright, colorful, letters. 

Then the clown stepped out. Same costume. Same silly happy face. 
He hadn't aged from the first time I saw him. Bobo the Clown.

The party started the same way. It always went like this. Balloon animals, streamers shooting out, juggling, all leading up to his “infamous” “Bobo’s Birthday Count!" The call was shouted out at the same time every year. Noon, right on the dot. He’d gather everyone, count them one by one, in those exaggerated motions, leaning too far over to one side or another, then he’d count again. And he’d get the number wrong. Every time. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”
He stops.
“Hmm.” Rubbing his chin and dropping some streamers from his nose when he tapped it. 
The children giggle.
He starts again.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
“You missed Tommy.”
The clown looks genuinely confused.
“Who's Tommy?”

Everyone would laugh, except for Tommy. He’d even count me and my siblings, everyone still considered a kid. My mom once said that we should make sure he counts us too, for some reason, as if it was really important. Now though, she seems to accept it, but says she never told us to ask to be counted too. Maybe she was embarrassed that we were still asking, with my older brother and sister almost going away to college now. That doesn’t stop her from stopping us from asking to be counted. Now it’s almost like a tradition. One no one wants to acknowledge. 

I still stay though. I stay because I know what happens if you don’t get counted. 
Greg was my best friend. 
I made sure he was always invited to my birthday parties, even when we could barely afford a cake, he was always there next to me. Until Bobo didn’t count him again one year. Then people stopped remembering his name. My parents thought he was my imaginary friend. Then the pictures changed. I didn’t have my arm wrapped around his shoulders for my birthdays. Now I was just standing there, almost awkwardly alone. 

Then he was gone. 
It doesn’t happen all at once. It took me years to figure out what was happening. Greg. Mikey. Sarah. Charles…
His parents thought I was trying to sell them something when I went to talk to Greg one day. 
No one remembered him in school either, his desk was just…empty. 
I don't know why I remember the kids Bobo misses. Maybe it’s because this all started when he was hired for my birthday party first. Maybe it's because he always counted me. Maybe there's something else wrong with me. I've stopped trying to figure it out.

I thought it was just friends, until I saw the rest of the pictures in our albums. The ones from when I was born. They were all framed weirdly, I was always off center. When I asked my parents about it, they’d get a strange look in their eyes for a second, then shrug and say they were probably tired. There’s one picture, from six years ago, that I don’t like looking at. I’m on one side of Bobo, with his hand on my back, and his hand is in the same position on the other side. On the back, it says ‘Jake and Jenny’s 9th birthday!’ My name is Jake. No one I’ve asked knows who Jenny is…  I don’t like thinking about it, but now I make sure we’re all included in the counting. 

Now, I’m watching Bobo start his count. I made sure my siblings are first, playing it off like we want to get it over with. We’re counted. Emily isn’t. My youngest sister’s friend. Bobo passes over her and ends his count one short. Another little girl points to her, “You forgot Emily!” Bobo smiles widely then looks confused, “I don't see an Emily.” He says, in his goofy voice, drawing out the “e” sound at the end. The parents let out a nervous chuckle. They never respond. Five minutes later, I go ask her mother where Emily is, just to check, and of course, she doesn’t know who I’m talking about. 

It’s not like I can throw him out. Not like I didn’t try already, but no one else sees it. He keeps to his jolly and happy attitude. Saying silly things like, “There can't be too many candles on the cake.” “Don’t run too fast, you might dash dash away!” and creepy stuff like, “Everyone gets counted eventually.” “No one should ever get left out” 

The uncounted child is always left behind, but I try every year now. They try following their parents but get completely ignored. Usually they just wander off. This time, I brought her over to her parents, pointing to her to remind them that they have a daughter but they just seem confused. Bobo turns towards the commotion and starts walking over. I asked them to check their cellphones, they had to have some photos of her, but the pictures are already gone. Emily starts getting scared, asking for her mom to pick her up, but she just takes a step back. Bobo is a lot closer now. I pick her up myself and start walking faster away, out of the yard. 

Bobo keeps following. 
Still smiling.
Not running.
I heard, from behind me, “you can't take a guest home before the party's over.”

Before I could leave the yard though, I heard it, “one, two, three…” 
He had started counting again. 
I turned around slowly, watching him count every kid, counting my siblings, then pointing to me, and looking at me almost curiously. “Hmm. One extra.”
He’d never counted an “extra” before. What did that mean? Emily had stopped crying, probably just as confused. I looked toward my brother and asked for his help, his car keys or something. 

He looked confused. “Sorry, who are you?”
That was the last straw. Now I knew I couldn’t interrupt his show. That didn’t matter though, I had to get Emily to safety, even if it meant I couldn’t come back. Running with her, we moved out of the yard and into the street. Before I could turn towards where I knew there was a police station, another van turned into the street. The same white van, with the same “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” plastered on the side. The same smiling clown face behind the wheel. 

I turned towards the forest. Maybe I could cut across it and get to another town, find another police station and ask for some help there. I started running, letting Emily down to walk from time to time, so we could keep going. Every time I tried to stop or slow down, I heard that squeaky clown horn in the distance, his laughter coming from behind. Calling out for “Bobo’s Birthday Count!" to start again and again, but he only ever got to two. “ONE, TWO” “ONE, TWO” “ONE, TWO” 

As the sun was setting, I saw a light in the distance. It looked like a warm orange flicker through the trees from a distance and I ran towards it, but when I got closer, I realized it was just a false hope. Sitting in the middle of a clearing was a picnic table, with a cake and two bright birthday candles in the middle. With two chairs waiting in front of us. Bobo was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear a tiny bicycle horn ring out from the other side, and his happy voice calling out, “make a wish!” 

I barely caught my breath before we were off again. Almost staggering as I pushed through the bushes, this time, Emily was completely silent, not even daring to cry anymore. Eventually, we stopped hearing the bell, his counting, and his laughter. 

Again, I saw a fire in the distance, but I was too tired. Too hungry. I kept moving, my feet barely getting me closer after so much running. It felt different this time. I smelled woodsmoke, the light was more orange this time too. I heard different voices this time. Older and younger. 

Stumbling into the clearing, I saw the Campfire. There were people there. Some with wrapped and bandaged arms, some with canteens, and an older man stirring a cooking pot in the middle. The man stirring the cookpot took the spoon out and pointed at something. Looking to my side, I saw that Emily and I had balloons tied to our wrists by strings. How did those get there? The man walked over and untied both. I let Emily down as he released the balloons and watched them float away.

“Clown?” He asked in a deep, calming voice. I could only nod as he gestured for us to sit by the fire. “How did you-” “Later.” He cut me off, as the laughter came from the forest. Emily and I took several steps back, closer to the Campfire, but he just stood there, near the edge of the circle of light, “Everyone around this fire counts.” Bobo coalesced out of the shadows, bright makeup and a wide smile looking straight at us. Until the man started to count, pointing at himself first, “One, two, three…eight, nine.” He ended with Emily and me. When he counted us, Bobo finally stopped smiling. Frowning now, he still didn’t dare to walk into the circle. “Don't look so surprised. You're not the first birthday he ruined.”

Walking us back to the circle of people, he shows us to a couple of seats before taking up the spoon again, and saying, “Everyone here has to be remembered by somebody else.” I don’t understand what he means, until he pulls out a book. Patting the cover, he opens it to the last pages with writing on them. “You're safe until sunrise. After that, tell us who he tried to make everyone forget.”

12:10 AM : RICK IS OUTSIDE THE WINDOW. I’m on the 3rd floor and can see him on the street by the entrance to the garden. He’s just standing there under the one street lamp. I called campus security and they said they’d drive by but they can’t do anything about him standing there

12:19 He sprinted off into the fucking woods and security drove by. He’s back out there now. This guy is a dweeb I’m going out and confronting him. I’m taking our handheld magnet as a weapon..wish me luck

12:30 Rick wasn’t there. In the 4 min it took me to get down there he was gone. The only thing around is a PHOTO OF ME TYPING ON MY PHONE TONiGHT IN MY DEPARTMENT?! How tf did he get in the building let alone this department? How did I not see someone taking a photo of me from 10 feet away?! Security is taking me seriously now. They’re checking footage and told me to leave the area. Fuck that I’m going home. I forwarded the phone and I’m walking out now. I didn’t even go to the break room to look out the window again. I’m off tomorrow and I am calling in the rest of the week until they can get this shit figured out.

Fuck. I unlocked my car via the app and my keys are gone. My fucking car keys. I can’t start the car if they aren’t in it. I have to go back.

HES FUCKING IN THE PARKIng ramp. He keeps unlocking and locking my car. I have to run but he’s blocking the exit.

I’m going for it