Midnight has passed, and in the stillness of these hours, the hauntings are never silent.

This is Real Ghost Stories Online.

After midnight.

The first thing he remembered wasn't the fear.

It was the confusion.

He was five years old, lying in bed with a nightlight glowing

softly against the wall when the sick feeling crept into his stomach. Not nausea, exactly.

More like the strange, hollow sensation that came just before throwing up. He shifted under

the blankets, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore it.

That was when the blankets moved.

First, it felt like a slip, a gentle tug, almost accidental, as if gravity had suddenly

changed its mind.

He tightened his grip instinctively pulling the covers back toward his chest.

The tug came again, stronger this time,

deliberate. The blankets are being pulled straight down toward the foot of the bed. There was no one

else in the room. He sat up, heart racing, knuckles white as he fought to hold on. The harder he

pulled, the harder the blankets were yanked away, as if something unseen was engaged in a silent contest of strength.

Panic flooded his chest. He yelled for his mother, his voice cracking with fear.

Go to sleep, she called back, half asleep and distant. The pulling intensified. He lost his grip.

The moment the blankets were torn free, everything went black. When he woke up, the bed was still. The room was quiet. His mother dismissed the whole thing as a bad dream, and at five years old, he didn't yet have the words or the confidence to argue otherwise. But something had changed. He felt it even then.

Over the years, strange moments accumulated quietly, like dust settling in corners, no one bothered

to clean. Sounds without sources, feelings he couldn't explain. By the time he reached adulthood, the idea of

...