8 Most Scary Stories to Tell Your Friends at School

The school hallways were always eerie after hours. The lights flickered slightly, and the usual hum of students rushing between classes was replaced by silence. It was a place meant to be full of life, but when empty, it felt… wrong.

Jason had stayed late for detention—again. As he walked toward his locker, the quiet pressed against his ears, making every small sound stand out. His sneakers squeaked on the freshly waxed floors, and the distant ticking of a classroom clock reminded him just how alone he was.

Then, he heard it. A whisper.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. He turned, scanning the empty hallway. No one. The whispering came again—soft, almost like wind slipping through cracks. But there was no wind inside the school.

It was coming from his locker.

Jason hesitated. Maybe it was a prank? His friends knew he hated ghost stories, and they’d love to mess with him. Slowly, he reached for the lock, his fingers suddenly ice-cold. The whispering stopped the moment he touched the metal handle.

Taking a deep breath, he yanked the locker open.

Nothing. Just his books, a crumpled hoodie, and an empty lunch bag. He shook his head, laughing nervously. “I need to sleep more,” he muttered. Slamming the locker shut, he hurried toward the exit.

The next day, things got weirder.

During math class, a book fell off the shelf behind him. Not just any book—his old notebook, which had been buried deep in his locker. His teacher gave him a sharp look as he picked it up, confused.

Then, during lunch, he felt a strange sensation—like someone walking just behind him. He turned quickly, expecting to see a friend, but the hallway was empty. The air was colder there, like a draft in a windowless school.

That afternoon, as he reached his locker, his heart pounded. He didn’t want to open it, but he had no choice. His books were inside.

This time, when he swung the door open, something caught his eye. A small, folded note, wedged between his textbooks.

Jason frowned. He hadn’t put a note there. Slowly, he pulled it out, his hands trembling. The paper was old, yellowed with age.

Three words were written in shaky, faded ink:

“Help me.”

His breath caught in his throat.

He turned the paper over. No name. No clue who wrote it.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he whispered.

But then he noticed something else—scratches inside the metal of his locker. Deep, jagged marks, as if someone had clawed at it, trying to get out.

Jason’s stomach twisted.

Later that evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about the note. Who left it? And why now? Curiosity got the best of him, and he did what any kid with a phone would do—he searched.

And that’s when he found it.

An old school article from years ago. A student had gone missing. A student who had the same locker Jason now used.

No one ever found him.

Jason’s blood ran cold. The whispers, the strange feeling, the note—what if the student never left?

That night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself it was all in his head. But just as he drifted off, his phone buzzed.

A new message.

No name. No number.

Just three familiar words flashing across the screen:

“Help me.”

Everyone at Westwood High had heard the rumors about the janitor. Some said he was just a story made up to scare freshmen. Others swore they had seen him with their own eyes—mopping the floors late at night, long after school was supposed to be empty.

No one knew his name. No one had ever spoken to him. But everyone agreed on one thing: if you saw him, you should never look away.

The Dare

It all started when Mia, Jordan, and Lucas got locked inside the school after hours. It wasn’t on purpose—they had been messing around in the auditorium, trying to sneak onto the stage when the janitor supposedly wasn’t looking. By the time they made it back to the main hallway, the front doors were already chained shut.

“Great,” Jordan groaned. “Now we have to call my brother to get us out.”

“Or,” Mia suggested, grinning, “we could look for the janitor.”

Lucas hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Mia teased. “You scared?”

Lucas didn’t answer, but the look on his face was enough. He had grown up hearing the stories. The ghostly janitor was one of Westwood High’s oldest legends. Some said he had died in an accident years ago—others claimed he had just vanished, leaving behind only his mop and bucket. The scariest part? The school hadn’t had a janitor in decades.

But sometimes, people still saw one.

The First Sighting

They walked down the darkened halls, their footsteps echoing on the tile. Lockers loomed on either side, casting long shadows under the dim emergency lights.

Then, Lucas heard it.

A soft squeak… swish… squeak… swish…

Like the sound of a mop sliding across the floor.

They turned a corner, and there he was.

A tall man in a faded blue jumpsuit, back turned, mopping the hallway in slow, careful strokes. A metal bucket sat beside him, filled with murky water that never rippled, never moved.

Mia took a step forward. “Excuse me, sir?”

The janitor didn’t stop.

Jordan nudged Lucas. “See? Just a normal guy.”

But Lucas wasn’t so sure. The air felt heavier, colder. He squinted, focusing on the janitor’s reflection in the dark windows along the hallway.

Only… there wasn’t one.

His breath caught in his throat. “Guys, we need to go.”

Mia sighed. “Come on, Lucas. It’s just a janitor.”

Then the janitor stopped. Mid-movement, mop still on the floor. He stood perfectly still, like he had frozen in time.

Slowly, he began to turn.

Lucas wanted to run, but his feet wouldn’t move. His heart pounded in his ears.

The janitor’s face was… wrong. His skin was grayish, sunken, like something that had been left in the dark for too long. His eyes were hollow, empty. A flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making him look less human with every second.

Mia gasped. Jordan took a step back.

The janitor lifted a bony hand—slow, deliberate—and pointed down the hallway.

And then, in a hoarse, raspy whisper, he spoke.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The Escape

They ran. They didn’t think, didn’t turn back, just sprinted down the hall, breath coming in sharp gasps. Doors blurred past them, lockers flying by in streaks of dull metal.

Finally, they reached the front entrance. Jordan yanked at the chains, fumbling with his phone to call his brother. Mia pressed herself against the cold glass, eyes wide.

Lucas couldn’t help it. He looked back.

The janitor was gone.

Only the mop remained, lying in a puddle of water that hadn’t been there before. The bucket stood still, untouched, the murky liquid inside reflecting something that wasn’t in the hallway anymore.

Something watching them.

Finally, Jordan’s brother arrived, cutting the lock and letting them out. They tumbled onto the pavement, gasping for air, the school looming behind them like a silent giant.

They never spoke about what happened. But Lucas did some digging later.

And that’s when he found the article.

The Truth

Decades ago, there had been a janitor at Westwood High. He had worked there for years, keeping the halls spotless. But one night, there was an accident—some said he slipped on a wet floor, others claimed something more sinister.

Either way, he was found the next morning, lying cold and lifeless in the hallway.

His mop still in his hand.

The school hired a new janitor after that… but he never lasted long. Strange things kept happening—mops moving on their own, buckets tipping over with no one around. Eventually, the school stopped trying.

No one ever replaced him again.

And yet, late at night, students sometimes saw him.

Still cleaning.

Still watching.

And if you ever see him—don’t look away.

Every school has that one room—old, dusty, and locked. No one ever goes in, and no one really talks about it. At East Ridge Middle School, that room was Room 205.

Teachers never mentioned it. The janitor never cleaned it. It was just there, sitting at the end of the second-floor hallway, its door covered in layers of dust and its window too dirty to see through.

No one knew why it had been abandoned. But everyone knew one thing: Room 205 wasn’t empty.

The Dare

It started with a dare.

“I bet you won’t do it,” Ethan smirked, crossing his arms.

“I totally will,” Sarah shot back, though her voice wavered.

“You have to go inside,” Jason added. “Not just touch the door—go in.”

They stood at the end of the dimly lit hallway after school, staring at the old wooden door. No one had been inside Room 205 in years. Some kids said it used to be a science lab. Others claimed a teacher had locked herself inside one night and never came out.

Sarah swallowed hard and stepped forward. “Fine.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle.

It turned.

The door wasn’t locked.

Inside the Room

The hinges groaned as Sarah pushed the door open, revealing the classroom inside.

Desks were still there, covered in dust. A chalkboard stretched across the front wall, untouched. Papers sat on a teacher’s desk, frozen in time. It was like everyone had just gotten up and left, never to return.

Sarah took a shaky step inside.

The air was heavy, thick with the scent of old books and something… else. Something metallic.

The door creaked behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She walked toward one of the desks, brushing a layer of dust off the surface.

Her heart stopped.

There was fresh ink on a piece of paper. A name, scrawled over and over.

“HELP ME.”

Her breath hitched. She turned back toward the door—

And froze.

The chalk on the board was moving. By itself.

Letter by letter, it scratched across the surface.

G-E-T O-U-T.

A whisper echoed in her ear. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Sarah didn’t think. She ran.

The Real Horror

She burst out of Room 205, gasping, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jason and Ethan stared at her, eyes wide.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

Sarah couldn’t speak. She just pointed at the door.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Come on, there’s no way—”

He grabbed the handle.

It wouldn’t budge.

The door was locked.

Jason frowned. “Wait… didn’t you just—”

A soft thump sounded from inside.

Then another.

Like footsteps.

Coming toward the door.

Sarah backed away. “We have to go.”

Ethan yanked the handle again, but the door didn’t move. The footsteps stopped.

Then, a sound sent chills down their spines.

Knocking.

Three slow, deliberate knocks from inside the room.

They ran.

The Forgotten Student

The next day, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened.

Had someone been in there? A prank? A trick of the light?

She needed answers.

She searched online, looking for anything about Room 205. And then, buried in an old school archive, she found it.

Twenty years ago, a student went missing.

No one knew where he had gone. He had been last seen staying after school… in Room 205.

They searched everywhere. They never found him.

Some people believed he had run away. Others weren’t so sure.

But every now and then, students heard whispers when passing the locked door.

Every now and then, the chalkboard wrote messages on its own.

And sometimes, if you listened closely enough—

You could still hear the knocking.

Every school has its own creepy legend. At Westfield High, the legend was about the midnight bell—the one that no one was supposed to hear.

The school bell rang every morning, between classes, and at the end of the day. But there was a 13th ring—one that only happened at midnight. No one knew why. No one even believed it was real.

At least, not until Alex decided to prove it.

The Dare

“There’s no way a bell rings at midnight,” Alex scoffed, crossing his arms.

“You calling me a liar?” Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m saying it’s just a dumb story,” Alex shot back.

“Then prove it,” Jake challenged. “Stay in the school until midnight. If you don’t hear the bell, we’ll admit it’s fake. But if you do… you have to admit the school is haunted.”

Alex smirked. “Fine.”

And just like that, the plan was set. Alex would hide in the school after hours and wait. Easy.

Or so he thought.

Locked In

At 10:00 PM, Alex was already regretting his decision.

He had snuck into the janitor’s closet and waited until everyone left. Now, the school was dark, silent, and way creepier than he expected.

Every small noise made his skin crawl—the creaking pipes, the faint hum of the exit sign, the occasional distant thump from somewhere in the building.

He checked his phone. 11:47 PM.

Just a little longer.

The 13 Rings

At exactly midnight, the silence broke.

DING.

Alex froze.

The sound echoed through the empty hallways.

DING. DING.

His heart pounded. No way. No way.

DING. DING. DING.

His breath hitched. The stories were true.

DING. DING. DING. DING.

Alex backed up against the wall. He needed to go.

DING. DING. DING. DING.

That was twelve. That was all the bell was supposed to ring.

But then—

DING.

Thirteen.

And then—silence.

The Principal’s Warning

A chill crawled up Alex’s spine. He needed to leave.

But as he turned toward the exit, something stopped him.

A soft creak.

A door was opening at the end of the hallway.

Footsteps. Slow. Steady.

A shadow stretched across the floor.

Then, a voice. Low, quiet, and eerily familiar.

“Why are you still here?”

Alex’s breath caught in his throat.

An old man stepped forward, wearing a suit, his face hidden in the dim light.

“School’s closed,” the man said, his voice calm but cold. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Alex didn’t hesitate. He ran.

The Truth

The next day, Alex told Jake everything.

“The bell rang 13 times. And I saw a guy. An old guy in a suit. He told me I shouldn’t be there.”

Jake’s face paled. “Dude… the school hasn’t had a night guard in years.”

“No,” Alex insisted. “He wasn’t a guard. He looked like… a principal.”

Silence.

Then Jake spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Our old principal… Mr. Grayson. He disappeared years ago. No one knows what happened to him.”

Alex’s stomach dropped.

Jake swallowed hard. “They say he was last seen… leaving his office after midnight.”

Alex never stayed after school again.

Every school has that one locker—the one no one dares to touch, the one with a story no one wants to believe.

At Maplewood High, that locker was #319.

It looked just like any other—old, scratched, a little rusted. But if you knocked on it…

It knocked back.

The First Knock

Lena never believed in ghost stories.

“It’s just an old locker,” she told her friends. “Probably just weird echoes or something.”

“Then prove it,” James challenged.

So, at the end of the day, when the hallways emptied and the sun cast long shadows through the windows, Lena walked up to locker #319.

She lifted her hand. Knocked once.

Knock.

She waited.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

Knock.

Lena’s heart jumped.

“That was you,” she said, turning to James.

He held up his hands. “Wasn’t me.”

Lena hesitated. Then she knocked again.

Knock. Knock.

A pause.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

The exact same pattern.

Lena’s stomach tightened. “It’s just some kid messing around.”

She grabbed the lock and yanked. It didn’t budge.

“Come on,” James whispered. “Let’s go.”

But Lena wasn’t done.

She pressed her ear against the metal.

Silence.

Then—

A faint whisper.

“Let me out.”

Lena stumbled back. “Did you hear that?”

James’s face was pale. “We need to leave. Now.”

The Story Behind the Locker

That night, Lena couldn’t stop thinking about the whisper.

The next day, she went to the library and looked up old school records. She didn’t know what she was searching for—until she found it.

An article.

“STUDENT MISSING: LAST SEEN AT MAPLEWOOD HIGH”

The photo was grainy, the headline faded.

It was from 30 years ago.

A student had vanished without a trace. The last place he was seen?

His locker.

Locker #319.

The Last Knock

That evening, Lena returned to the locker.

The halls were empty again.

She placed her hand against the cold metal.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

Silence.

Then, softly—

Knock.

Lena’s breath hitched.

She knocked once in return.

This time, instead of knocking back, the locker creaked open—by itself.

Lena stared into the dark, empty space. Nothing inside.

Except…

A single, faded note.

She picked it up. The writing was smudged, almost unreadable.

But she could still make out the words:

“I’m still here.”

That was the last time Lena ever went near that locker.

And she never knocked again.

Every year, Maplewood High printed a fresh yearbook, filled with class photos, sports teams, and club pictures. It was something students looked forward to—flipping through the pages, signing their friends’ books, and laughing at bad haircuts.

But in the 1989 yearbook, there was a picture that no one could explain.

A girl who wasn’t supposed to be there.

Flipping Through the Past

It all started when Ben, a junior at Maplewood High, found an old yearbook in the school library.

The cover was faded, the pages slightly yellowed. Curious, he started flipping through.

Most of it was normal—old photos of students, 80s hairstyles, cheesy captions.

Then he got to a class picture.

Something felt off.

At first, he couldn’t tell what. The students were all smiling, arms around each other. But then—

His eyes locked onto her.

A girl standing in the background, slightly blurry.

She wasn’t smiling.

Her face was pale, her dark eyes staring directly at the camera.

Ben frowned. He looked closer.

She wasn’t standing with the students. She was a little behind them, as if she wasn’t actually part of the group.

He turned the page, feeling uneasy.

She Moves

The next day, Ben showed the picture to his friend, Sarah.

“Look at this,” he said. “Do you recognize this girl?”

Sarah squinted at the photo. “I don’t think so… Wait.”

She flipped to the next class picture.

Ben’s stomach dropped.

The girl was there again.

Same pale face. Same dark eyes.

But this time—

She was closer.

Sarah shivered. “That’s creepy.”

Ben tried to laugh it off, but he felt it too.

That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about the photo.

The next day, he went back to the library and checked the yearbook one more time.

She’s Watching

Ben flipped through quickly.

He got to the first picture.

There she was.

The second picture—closer.

Then, he turned the page—

And she was gone.

Ben’s heart pounded. He looked at the next page.

His breath caught.

She wasn’t in the background anymore.

She was standing in the front row.

She wasn’t blurry anymore.

And this time…

She was smiling.

Ben slammed the book shut. His hands were shaking.

He turned, ready to run out of the library—

And then he saw it.

In the reflection of the window beside him—

She was standing right behind him.

Every school has that one place—a spot students avoid, a place where something just feels… wrong.

At Maplewood High, that place was the third-floor bathroom.

People said the lights flickered, the sinks turned on by themselves, and sometimes…

You could hear whispers.

The First Whisper

Mia had never believed the rumors.

“It’s just old plumbing,” she told her friends. “People hear weird noises and freak out.”

But one afternoon, she had to stay late for detention. By the time she was done, most of the students had already left.

As she walked down the empty hall, she felt it—a sudden chill.

She ignored it and pushed open the bathroom door.

The lights flickered. The air smelled faintly of mildew.

Mia rolled her eyes. “Creepy, but whatever.”

She turned on the sink. Cold water rushed out.

And then—

Right by her ear—

A whisper.

“Mia.”

Mia froze.

She spun around.

The bathroom was empty.

The stalls were all open. There was no one there.

Her breath quickened. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was just the pipes.

But then, from the last stall—

The door slowly creaked shut.

The Second Whisper

Mia backed away. “Nope. Not doing this.”

She grabbed her bag and turned to leave—

WHISPER.

“Don’t go.”

Mia ran.

She burst into the hallway, heart pounding. The second she stepped out, the bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

She didn’t look back.

The Story Behind the Bathroom

The next day, she told her friend Liam what had happened.

His face paled. “You were in the third-floor bathroom?”

Mia frowned. “Yeah. So?”

Liam hesitated. Then he whispered, “You don’t know, do you?”

Mia crossed her arms. “Know what?”

Liam swallowed. “A girl disappeared in that bathroom… years ago. They never found her.”

Mia felt a chill crawl up her spine.

“And they say,” Liam continued, “if you hear her whisper your name…she’s not done looking.“

The Last Whisper

Mia told herself it was all a coincidence. Just her imagination.

But that night, she had a dream.

She was standing in front of the third-floor bathroom.

The door was slightly open. A dim light flickered inside.

She felt something—someone—waiting.

A shadow moved. A whisper, soft as breath, filled her ear.

“Mia… I’m still here.”

She woke up, gasping.

And on her bedroom mirror…

There was a single wet handprint.

Every school library has its own eerie silence, but at Maplewood High, the silence wasn’t just quiet.

It felt… watched.

Books fell on their own. Pages rustled when no one was near. And sometimes, if you looked between the shelves…

You’d see a shadow move.

Staying Late

Jamie didn’t believe in ghost stories.

She loved staying late in the library, where she could read in peace without distractions.

One evening, she lost track of time.

The sky outside was dark, and most of the students had gone home.

She glanced at the clock. 7:45 PM. The librarian must have forgotten she was still there.

She gathered her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and turned toward the exit.

Then—

A soft thud behind her.

A book had fallen off a shelf.

Jamie turned back, frowning.

The library was empty.

The book lay open, its pages fluttering slightly, though there was no breeze.

Something about it sent a chill down her spine.

She bent down to pick it up.

Then she saw the shadow.

Something is Watching

It moved between the bookshelves.

A flicker of darkness. A tall, thin shape, shifting in the dim light.

Jamie’s breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t alone.

Slowly, she straightened, eyes fixed on the space between the shelves.

She wasn’t scared. Not yet.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe—

The shadow moved again.

And this time, it was closer.

The Whispering Page

Jamie took a slow step back.

The library felt different now—like the air had thickened, pressing against her.

Then, a sound.

A faint rustling.

She looked down.

The book in her hands… its pages were turning on their own.

Her breath hitched.

The book stopped on a single page.

A handwritten note in faded ink stared up at her.

“It sees you.”

A chill ran down Jamie’s spine.

She didn’t turn around.

She couldn’t.

Her heart pounded. The silence felt heavier, stretching.

Then, from right behind her—

A whisper.

“You see me too.”

The Footage

Jamie ran.

She didn’t stop until she was out of the school, gulping in the cold night air.

The next day, she told her friends.

They didn’t believe her—until they checked the library security footage.

At first, it showed Jamie alone, looking at a book.

Then—

A tall, black shape flickered behind her.

Not a trick of the light.

Not a shadow from the shelves.

Something else.

Something that was still in the library.

And if you go there late at night…

It might be watching you too.

Use Real Places – Pick a familiar spot, like the gym, cafeteria, or an old classroom. It makes the story feel real.

Add a Mysterious Character – A strange teacher, a missing student, or a ghostly janitor makes things more chilling.

Include a Twist Ending – Surprise your friends with something unexpected, like a hidden message, a student returning after being gone for years, or a shadow getting closer.

Tell It in First Person – Saying “This happened to my friend” or “This happened to me” makes it way scarier.

Before a Big Test – You don’t want your friends too freaked out to focus.

To Someone Who Gets Easily Scared – Be nice! Some people really don’t like creepy stories.

In Total Darkness – Unless you want to be the one running out screaming!