The Vengeful Spirit of Broken Bow (Oklahoma)

Narrator Profile:

• Name: Melanie “Mel” Rivers
• Age: 27
• Hometown: Broken Bow, Oklahoma
• Occupation: High school teacher
• Background: Melanie grew up in the rural town of Broken Bow, a close-knit community nestled between the Ouachita Mountains and the Kiamichi River. She’s recently returned to the area after finishing her degree in Tulsa, eager to work as a teacher and reconnect with her childhood home.

Story:

I’ve always been drawn to the quiet, slow-paced life of Broken Bow, Oklahoma. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and the scenery is breathtaking. But there’s an unsettling history beneath the beauty of the land, a history I never truly understood until I moved back.

My parents had left Broken Bow years ago, but I returned to take a teaching position at the local high school. I rented an old house that had been empty for a while, just outside the town. At first, I thought it was the perfect place for a fresh start.

But from the moment I moved in, things began to feel… off. There were nights when I would hear things—scratching sounds at the door, soft thumps from upstairs, whispers on the wind. I thought I was just getting used to the quietness of the countryside, but the sounds grew harder to ignore.

One night, as I sat in my living room, reading, I heard the distinct sound of a door creaking open upstairs. I froze. No one had been upstairs. Slowly, I made my way up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. When I reached the top, the door to the spare room was wide open, despite having been shut earlier.

I stepped inside, the air cold and still. But as I turned to leave, something caught my eye. A mirror on the wall, cracked in several places. But it wasn’t the mirror that made my blood run cold—it was the reflection.

I saw a woman standing behind me.

She was tall, with long black hair that hung in wild waves, her eyes dark and hollow, staring at me with an intensity that made me want to scream. But when I spun around, there was no one there.

It wasn’t the first time I had seen her. The woman had appeared in my dreams, and now she was here, in my house.

I began researching the house’s history, and what I uncovered terrified me. The woman in my mirror was a woman named Mary—she had lived in the house many years ago and had died tragically. It was said that she had been murdered, but no one ever found the killer. And now, her spirit was restless, vengeful, and seeking justice.

That’s when the whispers began. They started as soft voices, barely audible, but grew louder each night. I could hear them in my sleep, murmuring my name. And every time I woke, the mirror was closer to me, as though the woman in it had been inching her way out of the glass.

I knew I had to do something. So, I went to the town’s old library, hoping to find something that could help me understand why Mary’s spirit was so angry. After digging through old newspapers and town records, I uncovered the truth: Mary had been the victim of a terrible betrayal. Her own family had turned their backs on her, and her spirit could not find peace until the truth of her death was revealed.

That night, I confronted Mary’s spirit in the mirror. I told her that I knew what had happened, and I promised I would make sure her story was told. For the first time since I’d moved in, the house felt lighter, the whispers stopped, and the mirror no longer showed her reflection.

I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had given Mary the peace she needed. And I knew, deep down, that she would never haunt Broken Bow again.