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Every night at 302 the scratching starts behind my bedroom wall always the same spot always three scratches then silence then three more I tried moving my bed but now it's coming from the ceiling right above my pillow getting louder closer tonight I swear I saw fingers.

The Millbrook Sanitarium stood pristine against the autumn sky, its reputation for revolutionary psychiatric treatment drawing patients from across three states. None suspected that the nightly screams weren't from treatment, but from something far more sinister lurking in the basement ward.

During the summer of 1923, Dr. James Harrison observed an unusual case at Blackwood Sanitarium. Patient #247 repeatedly drew the same symbol, while birds fell dead outside her window. By August, all staff members reported hearing whispers in empty corridors.

Every morning, Sarah checks her family photos on the wall. Today, something's different. The pictures show five people, but she only has three children. The extra child appears in every photo, always standing slightly behind the others, smiling too wide. She can't remember taking these.

In July 1981, police entered an apartment in Milwaukee's west side. What they discovered would shock the nation. Jeffrey Dahmer, a seemingly ordinary chocolate factory worker, had turned his home into a house of horrors. America was about to meet one of its most disturbing serial killers.

Sarah found an old mirror at a yard sale. That night, her reflection blinked when she didn't. Each evening, her reflection moved slightly before she did. On the seventh night, her reflection smiled and walked away. Sarah hasn't been seen since.

Before we begin, remember to subscribe to the Ghastly Journal and enable notifications. Tonight's story takes us to the quiet coastal town of Cedar Bay, where in 1992, the mysterious disappearance of three lighthouse keepers would spark decades of terrifying speculation and unexplained phenomena.

Let me tell you about the mirror in my grandmother's house. It's been there for decades, perfectly normal during the day. But sometimes, at exactly 3:17 AM, the reflection shows a room that doesn't exist. Small pause. I've checked. Every wall. Every corner. That room isn't there.