“THE WEAVERTON TUNNEL” by Scott Donnelly #MicroTerrors

THE WEAVERTON TUNNELby Scott Donnelly #MicroTerrors

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“Micro Terrors: Scary Stories for Kids”™ 2023

Welcome to Micro Terrors: Scary Stories for Kids, where it’s always the spooky season – full of chills, thrills, and spine-tingling spooks! Micro Terrors are family-friendly frights for those ages 8 and up. And while our stories are for younger ears, we are still talking about things that go bump in the night, and some children may not be able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended. Now… for tonight’s MICRO TERROR!!!!

Jeremy rode his bike on the same route, day in and day out, every day of school. Living only a couple of blocks from Weaverton Elementary School, it didn’t make sense for him to take a bus, or to have his parents waste the gas on driving him. Jeremy liked the exercise anyway. He liked the fresh air blowing against his face, and now, as November reared its dreary head, he was soaking up every last bit of the autumn breeze. The comfortable coolness was mere weeks away from being replaced by frigid air and icy stings. Realistically he knew he couldn’t ride during the winter and would have been forced to hitch a ride from his parents. But until then, he’d continue to ride his bike until nature said “no more until spring!”
Taking the exact same route every day, he became very familiar with the ins and outs of it. He knew Ravioli, the yapping chihuahua at the corner of Jefferson and Main. He knew Mr. Lanier, the mail carrier who was usually walking to his last stop or two as Jeremy rode home in the afternoon. He also knew the sewer tunnel that was embedded into a hill that stretched over the Weaverton landfill. It was a dark tunnel — of course rumored to be haunted — with the outside walls of it, as well as its horseshoe-shaped, concrete entrance, plastered with graffiti.
But something stuck out as different to him on this particular ride home from school. At first, Jeremy thought it was a baby, but as he rode past, he didn’t see it move. The next day, it was still there, propped up against the outside of the entrance of the tunnel. Jeremy stopped his bike and stared at it. It didn’t move, and the longer he looked at it, the more obvious it was that it was a baby doll. Plastic, perhaps, and naked. Its eyes were painted on, giving it a very eerie glare. Jeremy shrugged it off as just some neighborhood kid having lost their toy, and continued on home.
The following day, the doll was still there. Jeremy stopped his bike again and even contemplated walking over and picking the doll up, but decided against it. Something about the dark tunnel behind the doll was unnerving. Ghost stories surrounded the tunnel and its confusing history, and Jeremy was sure that was playing into his fear. The tunnel was clearly abandoned, but no one in Weaverton really even seemed to know what it had originally been used for. The best guesses were just that it was used as a transportation tunnel for the landfill.
Jeremy climbed back onto his bike and tried his best to shake the shivers that had invaded his body; a mutual mix of fear and bitter cold. The clouds above him started to flow over the town fast, turning gray and threatening an early snow for the year. Jeremy peddled home as quickly as he could.
The next day, after school, Jeremy was on his way home when he passed by the WeavertonTunnel. Flurries were dancing in the air, becoming heavier. A news report he’d heard before he left his house that morning mentioned a possible one to two inches of snow after sunset. Jeremy assumed this would be the last day he’d be able to ride his bike to and from school for the year.
He stopped a few yards away from the tunnel entrance. The baby doll still sat there, however, this time it looked a little different. There was a red ribbon tied to its head, forming a bow on top like it was a Christmas present. Jeremy let his bike fall to the ground and tightened the scarf around his neck. Looking around, he didn’t see anyone else. Mr. Lanier was either done with his route for the day or running way behind schedule. There wasn’t a single bark or whine from Ravioli, who was just around the corner, either. The world around Jeremy was silent, and aside from the falling snowflakes, it was still.
Why does it have a bow? Jeremy thought to himself. No longer did he think it was a child’s lost toy. And no longer did he think it was abandoned there. Someone had clearly tended to it.
Jeremy sighed loudly, watching his breath escape through his chattering teeth. “I know I’m going to regret this,” he said out loud to himself. He dropped his backpack next to his bike and made his way into the grass. He took slow steps, cautious steps. He kept an eye on his surroundings, thinking maybe this was a prank and someone was setting him up to humiliate him on some kind of hidden camera show.
As Jermey got closer, he stopped and looked into the inky blackness that filled Weaverton Tunnel. It was impenetrable with the naked eye. Only a light would allow access to whatever hid behind its veil of darkness. Jeremy took his phone out of his coat pocket, but just before he could press the flashlight button, the baby doll fell to its side.
Jeremy gasped. He stopped where he was and let his eyes just linger on the doll. Why did it fall over? he thought. Why, after all these days did it move now? When I decided to move closer.
Jeremy waited for it to move again, but it just lay there on its side, beginning to collect snow. A few quiet and motionless moments later, he took another couple of steps toward it.
That baby doll moved again. It shifted on its side, spinning halfway around, and then stopped. Jeremy stopped as well; his heart now racing furiously. The baby doll then shot back into the darkness of the Weaverton Tunnel like a bullet. Jeremy’s heart fluttered and he lifted his phone and hit the button to turn on the flashlight. The shallowest portion of the dark tunnel was brought to life. And within his light, he caught the faintest shimmer of something — a string; clear and wispy like a fishing line was attached to the doll.
But where someone would have held onto the other end, was just empty darkness. The end of the fishing line dropped to the ground from where it had been suspended in mid-air and rested on the ground next to the doll. The faint sound of a baby’s laughter emanated from deep within the darkness, sending a new layer of chills rippling through Jeremy’s body.
He turned and ran back to his bike, climbed on and peddled as hard as he could. Eerie thoughts plagued his mind during the cold, winter months. What was in the Weaverton Tunnel? Who was in there? Was it a trap? An attempt to lure him in by some kind of unseen entity? All Jeremy knew for sure was that once the weather broke and the ground thawed, he might just have to find a new route to school.

Thank you for listening to Micro Terrors!!! Join us each Saturday for another scary story! For more fun, visit our website at MicroTerrors.com where we also have spooky games you can print out and play — like wicked word searches, mysterious mazes, and more! MicroTerrors.com is also where you can find us on your favorite social media and even send in your own scary story for us to tell! Plus, you’ll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly, who has other horrors for both young and old! I hope you’ll join me again soon for Micro Terrors: Scary Stories for Kids!

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