The Lullaby No One Sang | After Midnight
Real Ghost Stories Online
Real Ghost Stories Online | Paranormal, Supernatural & Horror Radio
4.2 • 3.6K Ratings
🗓️ 21 September 2025
⏱️ 14 minutes
🧾️ Download transcript
Summary
This chilling true story begins with a four-year-old lying awake in her room. Out of the silence came a lullaby—soft, melodic, unmistakably sung in the room though no one was there. Years later, hiding under blankets with the light on, she felt someone sit beside her bed, then a hand brush her arm through the covers. Was it her grandmother who had passed before she was born—or something else entirely?
By adolescence, the haunting escalated. The hallway always felt watched, the living room alive with footsteps and weight that didn’t belong. The porch screen door screeched open on its own—even when she stood watching. Then her best friend Annie began experiencing it too. At school, icy cold spots traced across their arms. At night, Annie saw a glowing figure at the foot of her bed. Together, they shared the terror of a presence that wanted them to notice.
The haunting eventually faded as they grew older, but the silence that followed never felt like peace. It felt like something holding its breath, waiting. Was it a ghost? A poltergeist feeding on adolescent energy? Or something darker that had only just begun?
Even now, she wonders if the lullaby was never meant to comfort her—but to claim her.
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Transcript
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| 0:00.0 | Midnight has passed, and in the stillness of these hours, the hauntings are never silent. |
| 0:08.8 | This is Real Ghost Stories Online, after midnight. |
| 0:15.1 | Some hauntings announced themselves with violence, doors slamming, windows shattering, voices screaming through the night. |
| 0:23.1 | But the ones that linger, the ones that cling to you, long after you've left the house, |
| 0:28.8 | often begin quietly. A whisper when you're too young to understand it. A lullaby in the dark. |
| 0:36.7 | I was four, maybe five years old, the first time it happened. |
| 0:40.2 | I couldn't sleep, lying awake in my room when a woman began to sing. A lullaby? |
| 0:45.1 | Soft, low, melodic. I sat up, straining to see, but the room was empty. |
| 0:51.6 | The only television in the house was on the far side too far to hear, and besides, |
| 0:56.9 | this wasn't a broadcast. This was in the room with me. I wish I could remember how it made me feel, |
| 1:03.7 | whether it was comfort or terror, but I was too young, too raw in the world to sort those feelings. |
| 1:10.5 | What I do remember is this. It wasn't a dream. |
| 1:15.8 | Not then? Not now. A year or two later it happened again. By then I developed the habit of |
| 1:22.6 | sleeping with the light on burrowing me under my blanket and watching the glow bleed through the fabric like a private |
| 1:28.5 | little sky. That night lying there, I became certain that someone was sitting beside me, watching |
| 1:33.9 | me. It couldn't have been my parents. The doors squeaked when it opened, and I hadn't heard it |
| 1:39.7 | move. I stayed buried under the blanket every nerve alive convinced that a grandmotherly figure sat just at the edge of my bed, |
| 1:48.8 | maybe because I'd been dreaming recently of my dad's mother, the one who died before I was born. |
| 1:55.3 | I don't know, but in that moment it felt like her. |
| 1:59.7 | Then the pressure changed, a hand, a touch through the blanket brushing against my arm. |
| 2:06.2 | And just like that, the presence was gone. |
| 2:09.1 | I never forgot it. |
... |
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