On Halloween night, I was alone in my house, excited for the spooky festivities and haunted tales. As the clock struck midnight, I heard a strange noise coming from the basement—faint footsteps, slow and deliberate. My heart pounded, but I shrugged it off, thinking it was just my imagination.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, plunging me into darkness. I grabbed my phone to use the flashlight, but it was dead. Then, I heard a whispering voice, barely audible, calling my name. Frozen with fear, I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The whispers grew louder, closer, as if someone—or something—was right behind me. I turned slowly, but there was nothing there. Just the empty basement and the flickering shadows. When I finally mustered the courage to run upstairs, I found my front door wide open, as if someone had come in and left in a hurry.
To this day, I don’t know what I experienced that night, but every Halloween, the memory of that ghostly visit sends chills down my spine. And I always double-check the lock before bed.
stake id : weezytheman