Scary Spooky Stories of Social Networking: Ghostagram!
HALLOWEEN

Scary Halloween stories updated for people who live their lives (and deaths) online.

Ghostagram!
An Instagram horror story.

Megan Tucker was tired of waiting for her girls to pick her up to go to the mall to shop for Halloween costumes. She texted Marissa again: Where are you?

Almost there, Marissa wrote back.

Megan checked her makeup again. She looked good. Damn good. She stood in the bathroom mirror and snapped a #nofilter shot for her Instagram admirers. The image posted, and Marissa waited for the likes to start coming in.

But then she saw something terrifying in the corner of the photo by her toilet: a little girl in a long white nightgown—with blood pouring down her face and hands. Megan screamed. She turned around, but there was nobody behind her.

“Megan? What’s wrong?” her mom said as she ran into Marissa’s room.

“Nothing,” Megan said, even though her heart was pounding. She didn’t want to worry her mother, who had enough on her mind as a single mom who worked two jobs. “I thought I saw a gray hair.”

Megan’s mom sighed. “Don’t worry, Megan. You’re still my young and beautiful girl, and you always will be,” her mom said, stroking Megan’s hair gently. “And hopefully you’ll never have as many gray hairs as I do from these two jobs and raising two kids on my own.”

“Two kids?” Megan gave her mom a puzzled look.

“I mean, one. One kid,” her mom said quickly. Just then, a horn honked outside. Megan rushed downstairs, calling goodbye to her mom as she hopped in Marissa’s waiting car.

“Hey girl, nice selfie,” Marissa said, as she pulled away from the house.

“Yeah, that Halloween decoration in the background was really creepy,” Callie said from the backseat.

“You guys, it wasn’t a Halloween decoration. I don’t know where that murdered girl came from,” Megan said. “I’m totally freaked out!”

“Oh come on, Megan,” Marissa said, skeptical.

“Yeah, shut the hell up, Megan,” Callie said. “God.”

“I’m serious! Look.” She was shaking so hard she could barely unlock her phone, but she managed to take another selfie, this time pouting cutely with her sunglasses on her head. The photo looked normal, but once she posted it with #gettingmyshopon, there she was again: the creepy dead girl—sitting right next to Callie in the backseat!

“AAAH!” Callie and Marissa both screamed. “She’s going to get blood on my car!” Marissa complained.

“Why is this happening to me?” Megan moaned. Then she noticed her new photo already had 53 likes. And the one from her bathroom had 181 likes. There were tons of admiring comments like “u look totes sexy biatch” and “nice try with the Halloween decoration u almost got meee.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of likes,” Callie said.

“Maybe being haunted isn’t such a bad thing,” Megan said.

“But who is this ghost? And why is she haunting you? It’s cute now, but it won’t be once Halloween is over,” Marissa said. They pulled into a parking space at the mall and piled out of the car.

“I don’t know,” Megan said. But as they walked into the costume store, a new comment came in from someone she didn’t know. It was from someone named @kylealdrich, and it said, “That’s weird. That little girl in the background looks like Susie Tucker. But Susie Tucker died in 1998, murdered by her own mother. Btw, you look really hot, Megan.”

“Susie Tucker? Who the fuck is Susie Tucker?” Callie said.

“I think she’s my older sister,” Megan whispered.
 

On Halloween night, Megan got ready quietly in her room. She dressed in a long, white nightgown, but she didn’t add any blood. She didn’t need to. Megan took one last selfie in her living room—at the very spot where the sister she never knew she had was murdered 15 years before.

“Goodbye,” she whispered to the pale, frightened girl who appeared faithfully in the background. “I’ll see you soon.” Megan wanted to see how many likes she would get, but she knew there wasn’t time. Her mom was about to come home from work.

The door unlocked, and her mom walked in from her first shift of the day.

“Hello, Mother,” Megan said quietly.

“Hi, Megan! How was your”—Megan’s mom caught sight of her outfit and froze. “Megan? What are you dressed as?”

Megan took a step closer to her mother. “I’m dressed as my sister, Susie, on the night you murdered her!” Megan grabbed her mother’s arms and shook her.

“It’s not my fault!” Her mother screamed. “She was starting to grow old, like me! I just wanted her to stay young and beautiful forever!”

Megan began to cry, scrunching up her face to hold in the tears. “Nooo! I wanted to believe it wasn’t true! You need help, Mom! You’re crazy!”

But Megan’s mother was looking at her daughter in horror. “Is that—is that a wrinkle on your face?”

“What? No! I’m just upset.”

Her mom pulled a large butcher’s knife from her purse. The metal glinted in the moonlight. “You’re getting old—old, like me, with my harshly realistic outlook on life! You must stay young, like Susie!”

“Mom, nooooooo!” Megan screamed, but it was too late. With a crazed look in her eyes, her mother thrust the knife into Megan’s stomach. Megan keeled over and fell to the carpet as blood spread out in a circle beneath her.

With her dying breath, she swiped open her phone and saw the latest comment on her final selfie. It was from @kylealdrich.

It said, “Give your sister my regards. Also, I’d totally do you.”

(by Shira Rachel Danan)

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