The Secret of the Bed in the Cellar

Hello! I’m Raina, and tonight I’ll tell you a creepy bedtime story called “The Secret of the Bed in the Cellar.”

Long ago, deep inside a dark forest, far from any town, lived two children. The older brother was Mark, 10 years old, and the younger sister was Marina, only 7. Their parents had died in a car accident one month earlier. With no family left, they had to stay in their old, lonely house. The wind often howled around it, as if the house itself was whispering secrets.

For months, they lived quietly. But Mark hated the dusty little room where they slept. Their parents’ bedroom was locked, filled with too many sad memories.

One evening, Marina said softly:

Marina: Mark, why don’t we sleep in Mom and Dad’s room? It’s cleaner.
Mark: Hmm… maybe. But the bed there is broken.
Marina: Then let’s use the old bed in the cellar.
Mark: Yes, good idea.
Marina (nervous): But… Mom and Dad told us never to use that bed.
Mark: It’s just furniture, Marina. Don’t be scared.

So, they carried the bed from the cellar. It was heavy, cold, and covered in dust. Marina felt as if someone was watching them, but she stayed quiet.

That night, the room grew colder. The bed creaked even when nobody touched it. Strange whispers floated through the dark.

At first, nothing happened. Days passed. But then little things began: shadows lingered longer, objects shifted slightly, and the bed gave off a strange smell, like damp earth.

Ten days later, Marina became sick. She whispered about something crawling under the bed. One stormy night, she disappeared. Mark searched the entire house, but she was nowhere to be found.

At 3 a.m., he heard screaming from the cellar. He ran down and froze. A woman’s ghost floated in the air. Her hair hung down like black water, and her hollow eyes glowed.

The Woman: You took my bed… so I took your sister!

The bed upstairs banged and shook, as if alive. The whispers turned into voices, calling Mark’s name. Cold hands seemed to pull at him.

The next morning, Mark told himself it was a dream. He went back to the cellar, but the woman was waiting. She cried softly, then looked straight into his eyes.

The lights went out. When they came back, Mark was gone.

The house fell silent again. The bed sat there, waiting. Patient. Hungry.