The Haunting of Yassin: A Terrifying True Story You Won’t Forget
The Beginning of the Nightmare
I never believed in ghosts or dark entities. Superstitions? Nonsense. But what happened to me… made me question everything.
Some moments in life force you to ask yourself—Is the person in front of you really who they seem to be? Or something… much worse?
For years, I lived abroad, leaving behind my ex-wife, Zainab, and my son, Yassin. Life played its cruel games—I remarried, and then, suddenly, Zainab passed away. A letter arrived at my workplace, forcing me to return home after five years—to a son who was almost a stranger to me.
I thought it would be a fresh start, a new life for the both of us.
When I arrived back in town for the funeral, it was clear I wasn’t welcome. My ex-brother-in-law, Hamza, confronted me:
"You can’t handle my nephew. We take care of him here. He can’t live with a stepmother!"
The argument escalated until Zainab’s father intervened.
"He’ll return, Hamza… He won’t be able to handle it."
I dismissed their words. I took Yassin and left for Cairo.
When we arrived home, my wife, Alya, and our three-year-old daughter, Samar, greeted us warmly. Alya had no problem raising Yassin, but she noticed something unsettling about him—his quiet posture, his blank stare, his complete lack of reaction to his new surroundings.
He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t confused.
He was just... watching.
Night One: The Whispers
That night, while I was sleeping, I woke to the sound of whispers. A child's voice.
I got up, walked through the dark hallway, and peeked into Yassin’s room.
He was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, whispering softly:
"But he’s not ready yet… is he?"
"..."
"Okay, I’ll tell him soon… but not now."
"..."
"I know… but he has to understand on his own."
My heart pounded. I stepped inside.
"Yassin, who are you talking to?"
He looked at me… and smiled.
"Myself."
"But I heard you talking to someone."
He tilted his head, still smiling.
"Dad… you don’t need to know everything."
A chill ran down my spine.
Night Two: The Shadow on the Chair
That night, the house was silent, except for the wind rattling the windows.
I was drifting off when I heard it again—whispers.
But this time… there was another voice.
A deep, raspy whisper. Not loud, but present.
"Yes… he’s asleep. He won’t notice."
I sat up. My pulse raced.
Slowly, I walked toward Yassin’s room and peeked inside.
He was sitting on his bed, his back to me, nodding slowly.
But he wasn’t looking at the wall anymore.
He was looking at the chair in the corner.
A chair that should have been empty.
But it wasn’t.
There was a shadow sitting on it.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice failed me.
Yassin suddenly turned his head toward me—only his head. His body didn’t move.
That wasn’t natural.
He grinned.
It wasn’t a child’s smile.
His eyes… weren’t looking at me.
They were looking through me.
Night Four: The Message from the Dead
I stayed awake that night, watching. Waiting.
At 4:30 AM, I heard something coming from the kitchen.
Not footsteps.
Not movement.
Breathing.
Soft. Slow. Intentional.
I crept forward and saw him.
Standing by the sink.
His back to me.
"Yassin… what are you doing?" I whispered.
He didn’t move.
After a long moment, he turned—slowly.
His eyes were unnaturally wide. His skin pale.
"Dad… Mom wants to see you."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
"Yassin… your mother is gone."
He smiled faintly.
"She’s standing right behind you."
Every muscle in my body locked.
A breath of cold air brushed my neck.
I didn’t dare turn around.
I couldn’t.
Because if I did… I knew I’d see her.
Night Five: The Final Horror
Desperate for answers, I drove back to Zainab’s father.
I needed to understand what was happening to my son.
What he told me… made my blood run cold.
"Yassin is cursed."
"He has been seeing things since he was little. We took him to many sheikhs… but nothing worked."
"And Zainab… she died because of him."
I didn’t believe in curses. But what kind of grandfather would say that about his grandson?
When I returned home, everything was silent.
Too silent.
I closed the door, feeling an unnatural chill.
"Alya?" I called out.
No answer.
I checked the time—11:15 PM.
Then I saw it.
A dark stain on the floor.
Thick. Sticky. Red.
My chest tightened as I lifted my phone flashlight.
And there she was.
Alya.
Cold. Lifeless. Eyes staring at the ceiling.
Her throat… slit open.
Blood smeared across the walls, forming strange symbols.
And beside her—Samar.
My baby girl.
Lifeless. Pale.
A sob stuck in my throat. My vision blurred. My heart shattered.
Then… I heard footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
I turned my flashlight toward the sound.
Yassin stood there.
His eyes were pitch black.
Behind him… something loomed.
A tall, shadowy figure. Featureless. Black. Watching.
Yassin spoke.
"Mom sent you a message."
The front door slammed shut.
A rush of air.
The thing moved.
It came for me.
Case File: The Yassin Incident
Status: Unsolved.
Summary: The father was found in shock, rocking back and forth, repeating:
"There was something else in the house."
The bodies of Alya and Samar were discovered, their deaths occurring days before the father returned.
And Yassin?
Vanished.
His whereabouts remain unknown.
