On a dark Halloween night, the residents of the small town of Stake gathered around a crackling fire in the old square. The wind howled through the empty streets, and the sound of crows echoed between abandoned buildings.
Suddenly, old George spoke in a trembling voice:
“Never say the name MohShaw tonight… anyone who does is never seen again.”
The children laughed, thinking it was just another scary story. But one brave boy whispered the name:
“MohShaw…”
At that instant, the fire went out. Silence filled the air—then a scream shattered the night. A massive shadow appeared, with glowing eyes like burning embers. Its footsteps shook the ground, and its breath was cold as death.
Everyone ran—except the boy who had spoken the name. Minutes later, when they turned back, he was gone. On the ground, written in blood, was a single word:
MOHSHAW
Since that night, the people of Stake say they still hear whispers coming from the alleys every Halloween, repeating the cursed name…
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