Bleeding Fingers is a clever startling story for children about a phantom that frequents a room on the thirteenth floor of a lodging. A variant of this story showed up in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark as “The Ghost with the Bloody Fingers”.
A man strolled into a lodging late one night and requested a room. The inn administrator revealed to him the lodging was altogether reserved.
“We’ve just got one room left,” he said. “It’s on the thirteenth floor, yet we don’t lease that one since it’s spooky.”
I’ll take it,” said the agent. “I don’t have faith in such drivel about apparitions.”
The man took the key and went up to the space to get some rest. When he killed the lights and got into bed, he heard the storage room entryway squeak open. A pale, spooky figure rose up out of the storage room and stunned forward, its fingering dribbling with blood.
Ridiculous fingers! Bleeding fingers!”, it groaned.
At the point when the man looked at this shocking sight, he snatched his bag and came up short on the room, as yet wearing his night wear. left the inn that very night.
The following night an elderly person touched base at the lodging late during the evening. The director disclosed to her something very similar.
“We’ve just got one room left, however it’s on the thirteenth floor and we don’t lease it on the grounds that the room is spooky.”
“Sonny, I’ve seen a great deal in my day,” she let him know. “Trust me, nothing could trouble me.”
When she turned off the lights and got into bed, the wardrobe entryway squeaked open and a loathsome make sense of ventured. Its fingers were all the while dribbling blood everywhere throughout the floor.
Grisly fingers! Wicked fingers!”, it groaned.
The elderly person screamed and kept running as quick as her legs could convey her.
After seven days a young kid touched base at the inn exceptionally late. He likewise took the spooky room in spite of the administrator’s notice. He paid for his room, got the key and headed upstairs. After he had unloaded, he took out his guitar and started to strum a few tunes.
Before long, the wardrobe entryway squeaked open and the phantom showed up. As in the past, its fingers were dying, drenching the floor covering with blood and it was groaning, “Bleeding fingers! Ridiculous fingers!”
The kid didn’t give any consideration to the spooky figure. He simply continued strumming his guitar.
The phantom continued groaning, and its fingers continued dying. “Ridiculous fingers! Grisly fingers!”, it groaned.
At last, the kid quit playing the guitar.
He took a gander at the terrible phantom and stated, “Shut up and get yourself a Band-Aid.”