People Share Their Creepiest Stories That Happened at School

"My school's library is open until around 2 in the morning for the idiots like me who don't do their essays until the last minute. It's a pretty small building, and most of the books are in the basement area called the 'Stacks.' Just to give you a quick layout, there's the big main stairs that go down to the Stacks, a vending machine room, and the long hallway with four entrances into the Stacks. The Stacks are two really big rooms on opposite sides of the hallway with a huge amount of bookshelves and study desks lining the walls.

I was there around 11 pm last year. It was a pretty research intensive essay, so I was down in the Stacks working in one of the study desks, so I didn't have to keep going upstairs and downstairs again. I had been there for maybe two hours, and everyone except for a boy working a few desks down from me had left already.

I was pretty zoned out by this point; it was an 8 am class, so I didn't have much time until it was due, and I was sort of panicking, so it really pissed me off when I heard someone flipping through book pages really fast to make them do that loud whir noise at the other end of the room. I sort of ignored it for a while thinking they'd go away eventually, but they just kept doing it.

After about five minutes, I got sick of it and started to walk over to tell them to knock it off. I get about three steps across the room, and it just stopped. I sat back down, and it was quiet again for like 10 more minutes before the flipping pages noise started again, only loads louder, like they'd grabbed a huge book that time.

The boy started to get pissed off too, and he stood up and started walking through the bookshelves trying to find them. It keeps going, so I got up too and started looking around with him.

It got really loud, and it was pretty obvious where it was coming from by that point, so we started walking towards it - he was on one side of the shelves, and I was on the other. We walked all the way down the shelves. No one there. We hadn't seen anyone come in the stacks, and we were on the side of the room with the entrances - no way could anyone have come in without us seeing them.

The noise stopped again, and we both just sort of slowly walked back to our seats, I assumed it was just a fan or something in the other room, and I really needed to get my essay done.

We sat down and immediately the noise started again - it sounded like it was coming from right next to the guy's chair. He shoved his stuff in his bag, looked at me, said, 'F*ck this,' and took off - I was out of there maybe five seconds behind him.

I still won't go back in the Stacks at night, even when there's other people down there. No essay's worth getting murdered by a weird book ghost."

"This past year in college, we had a ghost named 'Gideon' living in our dorm who has followed my roommate from place to place or so he claims (he dubbed the ghost 'Gideon'). He would hear his name, have his bed being shaken in the middle of the night, stuff like that. He wasn't the only one to experience it. As the school year went on, Gideon began to get comfortable with all of us, and activity began to become frequent.

When alone, I've heard faucets running, so I looked about and found nobody to be in the dorm-apartment. I've heard knocking on my door, and when I opened it, nobody would be there (I'd hear knocking on my door, quick little raps of about three to five knocks every time I'm alone in the dorm-apartment with my bedroom door closed).

Every once in a while, late in the night, I'll hear a loud slap on my door or on my wall. I have a metal water bottle I keep on my windowsill, and one night it sounded as though someone was just picking it up and setting it down softly, just enough so there would be a metallic clinking on the sill (which happened to be made of concrete or something).

I heard a noise as though something had fallen off of my desk. When I woke up, my ChapStick was on the floor beside my bed, which had originally been standing up in the middle of my desk. I heard it drop to the floor the night before, but my windows were closed and my fan was off, so I don't know how it could have gotten there. Something handed my pillow to me. I woke up sometime in the night to find it wasn't on the bed, reached out groggily, and it was suddenly in my hand.

Something had tried unlocking my roommate's door from the outside (he found little scratches from where the door meets the frame, and the catch on the door was scratched as well). I had a guest spending the night, and they saw some strange shadow moving on my ceiling; we tried to recreate the shadow, but couldn't. The shades were down, so there wasn't too much light coming in.

My roommate was alone and saw somebody out of the corner of his eye walk past his room; it doesn't sound weird, but the figure was walking toward the wall that's just windows, and there's nothing there other than a couch. When he left his room to see who it was, there was nobody there, and nobody could have gone anywhere being that we were on the fifth floor. One afternoon, my other roommate, the one who brought Gideon with him, of course, saw a shadow figure walk into one of the bathrooms.

One night, I experienced a loud knock on my door. I said, 'Yeah?' got up and opened my door - there was, of course, nobody there, and at the same time as I opened my door, my roommate across from me opened his door claiming somebody knocked on his door. He thought it was me; I thought it was him - we had our doors knocked on at the exact same time.

I never felt Gideon was a bad presence, just kind of there and doing his thing. There was never anything bad that happened to any of us having him there, other than an eerie feeling being alone in the place, as though you weren't entirely alone."

"My pregnant sister-in-law works with a child who is [mentally ill]. He doesn't take his meds some days, and he will often draw pictures of killing things and blood everywhere. Sometimes he'll tell the teachers, 'This is you and there is blood everywhere! Hahaha!'

The other day she was helping him and he was frustrated, so he stabbed her with a pencil. And then right after that, he went to hit her stomach; she deflected the hit and said, 'You can't hit! Especially my stomach. Do you know why?'

And the freaking kid goes, 'Yeah, 'cuz you have a baby in there. I hope it DIES.'

This kid is in first grade."

"A grade one student said he had killed two bunnies and some birds. He wrote about it in his journal and drew a picture. Sure enough, the carcasses were found in the playground that recess.

When we asked him why he did it, he said he wanted to know what it would feel like to kill something."

"Oh dear, where to begin? Here's one that comes to mind...

Kindergarten girl had a pair of scissors. I turned just in time to see her reach over and try to cut off another girl's ponytail. Not a major thing (because no cutting actually happened), but when I asked her why she was going to do that (because they normally got along very well) she said (in a simple, very straight-forward tone of voice), 'Because her hair is what she loves the most.'

Sent chills up my spine."

"I'm not a teacher myself, but my best friend works as a teaching assistant in a small primary school.

She used to tell me about a little boy who would constantly give 'death stares' to teachers and would generally refuse to interact with other children. My friend absolutely loves kids, but even she admitted she had never seen a child look so angry all of the time, like he hated the world even though he was so young. He would face the wall during class time and repeatedly bash his head against the wall until staff intervened. He started biting a lot of the children and was told off for doing so in the dining hall one day. He then jabbed the dinner lady in the arm with his fork so hard that it drew blood.

In my friend's classroom, they had a small incubator with little chicks that the children would help to look after and watch as they grew up. At one point, he was left unattended and managed to squeeze one of the poor chicks to death. I don't know what ever happened with him because my friend got a job at another school, but the story has always stuck in my mind.

The way she described him genuinely gave me chills."