The Haunted Warehouse of Jinn
Warning: This is a true story. All characters and events are real.
Welcome back to our horror series. Today's story comes from Sudan, sent to us by one of our channel subscribers. The storyteller begins:
My name is Moatasem. My three siblings and I were born in Saudi Arabia. We own a traditional house located in Dongola, northern Sudan. Every summer, our family would spend the vacation in that house. The house had a large courtyard and an abandoned barn, which we eventually turned into a storage space for unused items.
In 1997, after finishing the school year, we traveled to Sudan for our summer vacation. Upon arrival, we immediately began cleaning the house. As the sun set, casting long shadows over the semi-rural landscape, the electricity, as usual, began to flicker and cut off. This was something we had grown accustomed to, so we always kept a large supply of candles.
As dusk fell, my father asked me to run to the grocery store to buy more candles and other essentials. Just as I was about to leave the house, I noticed a grey dog slip into the storage barn. I rushed over to chase it away. The dog obeyed immediately, walking out on its own.
On my way to the store, I felt something behind me. When I turned, I saw the same dog following me. I didn’t think much of it at first and continued walking until I reached the store. On my way back, darkness was already creeping in, and to my shock, the dog was still behind me! This time, it wasn’t just following me—it was walking beside me. What terrified me was that the dog’s fur had turned jet black, and it wasn’t panting or sticking out its tongue like a normal dog would. Even more chilling was the fact that the dog kept staring at me, never breaking eye contact.
By this time, fear began to gnaw at me. My heart raced, and I could feel my pulse in my ears. Halfway home, the dog suddenly walked ahead of me, but something was terribly wrong—it was walking backward, its face never leaving mine. My fear turned into pure panic. I ran as fast as I could toward the house, glancing behind me, only to see the dog still walking backward, staring at me.
When I finally reached the door, I pounded on it frantically. My brother answered, asking, “Who’s there?” At that moment, the dog passed by the house, coinciding with the door opening. I shouted to my brother, “Look at that dog! It’s walking backward without looking where it’s going!” My brother looked puzzled and replied, “What are you talking about? The dog is walking normally.”
I was still seeing it walk backward, while my brother saw nothing unusual. The dog finally disappeared into the dark. My brother and I entered the house, and I made sure to lock the door tightly behind me.
In Sudan, it was our habit for the men to sleep outside in the courtyard. Each of us set up our beds under the stars, chatting by candlelight until the call for the evening prayer. After praying and eating dinner, everyone prepared for sleep. The women stayed inside while the men slept outside. My bed was positioned near the front door.
In the middle of the night, with everyone fast asleep, I felt something licking my feet. I jolted awake in terror and saw the dog walking toward the door. It passed right through it, even though the door was locked! I couldn’t believe my eyes—how could this be happening?
Moments later, I saw a pack of dogs emerge from the storage barn, heading for the door and walking straight through it, just like the first dog. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing in the still night. Everyone woke up, alarmed by my cries. I was shouting incoherently about dogs, the barn, ghosts, and jinn. Everyone assumed I had been having a nightmare. My father sat beside me, reciting verses from the Quran and telling me to calm down, insisting it was just a bad dream.
I sought refuge in the prayers my father recited, calming down enough to fall asleep again. The next morning, we woke up to the call for dawn prayer. After breakfast, my father assigned each of us tasks. Mine was to sort through the items in the storage barn. As I entered, I was hit by a foul stench, like the smell of animal droppings. The barn had no lights, so I relied on the sunlight filtering in.
As I searched for the source of the smell, I stepped on something squishy. I took off my shoe to find it smeared with what looked like dog feces. I left to wash my shoe and grabbed cleaning supplies. As I held my shoe, my brother saw me and asked, “Why are you holding your shoe like that?” I explained it had dog droppings on it and I needed to clean it. My brother gave me a confused look and said, “What droppings? Your shoe is perfectly clean.”
I looked down, and to my horror, the feces had disappeared. There was no trace of it. My words caught in my throat—I was sure of what I had stepped in. Grabbing my brother’s hand, I pulled him to the barn to show him the mess for himself. But when we entered, the smell was gone, and there were no signs of the filth I had seen earlier. I broke down, crying uncontrollably.
My brother ran to get our father. Just seconds before he arrived, I saw an enormous pack of dogs enter the barn. That’s when I blacked out. When I came to, my father was holding my head, reciting Quranic verses. My senses slowly returned, but I had a pounding headache. When I calmed down, my father told me to stay away from the barn and reminded me to recite my morning and evening prayers daily, especially Ayat Al-Kursi after each prayer. My father continued reciting verses over me for seven straight days.
By the grace of God, I was unharmed after that day. Following the incident, my father emptied the barn completely, played Surah Al-Baqarah daily, and burned incense, particularly oud. Eventually, he turned the barn into a guest room. Before we left for Saudi Arabia, my father sealed the windows and sprinkled water in the corners of the barn, water he had recited Quranic verses over.
Today, I share this story with you, over 20 years later.
This was the end of my story,
Your brother, Moatasem.