Bankfeysal
🎃 “The Pumpkin That Whispered Back”
In the quiet town of Drowsy Hollow, every Halloween, the townsfolk carved pumpkins and left them on their porches to keep away the wandering spirits. But there was one rule no one ever broke — never carve alone after midnight.
Lila didn’t believe in old stories. That Halloween, she stayed up past twelve, knife in hand, carving by candlelight. As she sliced the final grin into her pumpkin, the candle flickered out. In the darkness, she heard a voice — soft, crackling like firewood:
“Why did you wake me?”
Her heart froze. The pumpkin’s carved mouth twisted, though she hadn’t touched it. Its hollow eyes glowed with an ember-like pulse.
“I—I didn’t mean to—” Lila stammered.
“Then put me back to sleep.”
“How?” she whispered.
The pumpkin’s glow dimmed, and a gust of cold air swept through the room. “A soul for a soul,” it hissed.
The next morning, neighbors found Lila’s porch empty — except for a single pumpkin. It smiled a little too wide.
And if you looked closely, you could see her name, faintly carved into its skin.
