💰[$1,000] Tell us your spooky story 📚

[Jake7589]

📚 Tell us your spooky story 👻

Ends: 7/11/2025 @  1.00 AM GMT

Write an original Halloween-themed story that captures the spirit of the season 👻
It can be scary, mysterious, or just a little strange; your creativity is what counts. 🎨
Drop your stories below 💬

Requirements: 

• Reply to this thread with your stories.
• Include your Stake ID.
• To have a valid entry, fill out the below form, providing your details 

HERE

Prize Pool: $1,000

• Distributed to 20 randomly selected winners who meet the above conditions.

How to Enter:

• Reply with your Stories
• Include your Stake ID

Prize pool distribution:

• Complete the challenge within the next 7 days for a shot at the prize pool.
• Winners are limited to 20.
• IMPORTANT: Don’t miss out! Stay tuned for the official winner announcements so you can grab your prize before the link expires. Users will not be credited after the 3 month time period ends.

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[ralfonso]

“The Stake Collector” 🎃 

Eddie thought it was just business—cutting the Stake Casino bonuses short. Numbers, reports, nothing personal. But on Halloween night, the numbers started whispering.

Screens flickered with usernames long deleted. The chat box typed on its own: “We want what’s ours.”

Then the lights went out. From the shadows stepped a figure made of thousands of faint, glowing faces—every player he’d shorted, merged into one. Its voice was a chorus of rage.

“You took our luck,” it hissed, reaching out with hands made of code and static. “Now we’ll take yours.”

When the power came back, Eddie’s office was empty—just a monitor left glowing with a new message:

WEN MONTHLY...

 

Stake - ralphons

[scheduleofplay]

The jack-o’-lantern on the porch grinned with a single candle. 🕯️ 

Timmy, eight and alone, waited for his parents to come home from the party.

At 10:03 p.m. the flame turned blue.A small voice drifted from inside the pumpkin. 🎃

“Trade me your name for one wish.”Timmy leaned close. “I wish Mom and Dad were here.”The flame flared white. 

The pumpkin’s carved mouth closed.

The candle went out.Footsteps on the driveway. 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️

Two adults in cheap vampire capes stepped into the porch light. 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♀️

“Trick or treat,” they said in unison, voices flat.Timmy smiled. “You’re early.”The woman tilted her head. “Who’s Timmy?”The man shrugged. “Never heard of him.”They walked inside, calling for their son.

The pumpkin sat cold and nameless, smiling at an empty porch. 🎃

 

stakeid - scheduleofplay 

 

[Random0120]

Lena always turned off the bathroom light before bed, until that night.

She brushed her teeth, looked up, and saw her reflection smiling… though her own mouth was still closed.

She froze. The reflection tilted its head, grin widening, and slowly lifted a hand to the glass.

Then the light flickered.

When it came back on, the mirror was empty.

From the dark hallway behind her came a whisper... “Your turn.”

Stake - Johnkimmel1

[igli09999]

I was driving home alone on a dark back road late one night when I saw a figure in a heavy coat, standing totally motionless. When I stopped, the figure slowly tilted its head straight back to the black sky without turning its body, and let out a single sound that felt like pure cold. I didn't look back until I was a mile down the road, and of course, they were gone.

 

Id:igli0999

[Floras]

A spooky poem for the spirits of yore.

The Crimson Brew

Beneath the trees where shadows creep,
Two witches woke the woods from sleep.
Their cauldron churned with spite and flame,
And whispered low each cursed name.

They stirred in venom, grief, and bone,
A tongue of ash, a lover’s moan.
The forest bowed, the air grew red,
As darkness crowned the day instead.

The sky then bled, the stars took flight,
The moon recoiled from burning light.
The village prayed, but prayers were few,
When dawn arose in crimson hue.

Two witches laughed, their work was through,
The heavens stained by what they brew.
And still each year when night turns red,
They wake the sky, and raise the dead.

Floras

[Sattin]

🎃 "The Lantern in the Fog" 🎃

On a misty Halloween night, young Ellie wandered into the woods behind her grandmother’s house, chasing the flicker of a strange lantern. It bobbed gently in the fog, always just out of reach.

“Wait!” she called, but the lantern floated deeper into the trees.

Suddenly, the fog parted, revealing an old stone circle. The lantern hovered above the center, then slowly descended. Ellie stepped forward, and the moment her foot touched the stones, the lantern burst into a warm glow.

A whisper echoed through the trees: “Thank you, child. You’ve freed me.”

The lantern faded, and in its place stood a smiling ghost boy, no older than Ellie. He waved once, then vanished into the night, leaving behind a single glowing pumpkin.

Ellie returned home, the pumpkin in her arms, knowing she had given someone peace—and found a Halloween story no one would ever believe.

Stake ID : sattin

Edited October 27, 2025 by Sattin

[Nisha28]

 

🔪 The Mystery of the Last Lollipop 🍭

The October cold in town wasn't just chilly; it was heavy. Elara, our 'Candy Courier,' was on her final round on Halloween night.

Her last stop was on Cemetery Hill, at the Widow's House 🏚️. The house was always closed, but this year, a strange sign glowed on the gate: "Take One. Please." 🤫

On the porch was a small glass dish holding just one green lollipop. It shimmered as if magical. ✨

As Elara reached for it, a dry, rustling whisper came from the dark doorway: "It's the last one." 😱

A shadow detached from the darkness—tall, thin, and draped in webs. Its face was blank, and its eyes were deep, spinning black vortices 🌀.

"Take it, child," the shadow hissed. "But when you taste it, you'll forget all the good memories, all the jokes, and all the stories of this night. Only silence will remain." 💀

Elara looked at the lollipop. It was just sugar, but the price felt too high. She swallowed her fear and said: "I don't need a lollipop. I have the stories."

She pulled some old story notes from her bag. "I'll trade you these," she said. "A thousand new memories that keep the darkness busy." 📝

The shadow stared at the pile of notes, then the lollipop. It let out a dry laugh and vanished into the shadows. 💨

Elara left the lollipop untouched. She knew the real spirit of Halloween was in the thrill of the stories and the fun, which she carried with her. 🧡

 

Stake ID: Nisha288

[Ankur2222]

 rented a small room in an old Delhi building — nothing fancy, just cheap and close to work. The landlady mentioned that no one stayed long, but he didn’t ask why.

 

The first few nights were fine. But around 2:30 a.m. every night, he’d hear a faint ringing sound — like a mobile phone on vibrate, coming from the locked room next door. The door had been sealed shut with a wooden plank across it, so he assumed it was just wiring or rats.

 

One night, annoyed, he decided to check. He pressed his ear against the door — and the ringing stopped. Then, a voice from inside said quietly, “Hello?”

 

He froze, heart pounding. He backed away and went straight to bed.

 

The next morning, he told the landlady. She sighed, unlocked the old drawer, and showed him a rusted phone. “It was the last tenant’s,” she said. “He died in that room. I keep it turned off.”

 

But that night — the ringing started again.

Stake id: Ankur2222 

 

[Akash182168]

So I moved into this old hostel near my college, and the warden warned me not to open the door if someone knocked after midnight, even if they whispered my name. I thought it was just an old superstition—until that night. Around 12:30, I heard a soft knock and someone whispering, “Riya…” I checked the peephole—no one. The lights flickered, my phone buzzed, and my roommate texted, “Don’t open it, I’m outside your door… someone’s whispering from inside.” That’s when I heard the voice again, right behind me—“I told you not to open the do or.”

 

Stake id Akash182168

 

Edited October 27, 2025 by Akash182168

[Zigzag89]

## The Whispering Woods

In the small town of Eldridge Hollow, October brought a chill that wrapped around the streets like fog. As the annual Halloween festival approached, an unusual unease settled over the community, especially near the Whispering Woods that bordered the town. Legends spoke of spirits haunting the woods, where wanderers had vanished without a trace.

One crisp evening, three friends—Lila, Jake, and Emily—decided to explore the woods, drawn by tales of ghosts and adventure. Armed with flashlights, they crept toward the tree line, excitement mingling with fear. As they entered the woods, the vibrant festival sounds faded, replaced by an eerie silence. The trees seemed to lean closer, their branches whispering, “Lila... Jake... Emily...”

“Did you hear that?” Lila asked, glancing nervously at her friends.

“It’s just the wind,” Jake replied, though doubt lingered in his voice. Despite Emily’s pleas to turn back, Lila urged them deeper into the forest.

They discovered a clearing bathed in moonlight, revealing a circle of ancient stones surrounding a weathered chest. Lila knelt beside it, brushing away leaves, her curiosity ignited. “What do you think is inside?”

Before they could decide, a sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, and the whispers intensified, warning them to leave. Undeterred, Lila reached for the lock and opened the chest with a sharp click.

Inside lay not treasure but old photographs, tarnished jewelry, and letters sealed with wax. Each item pulsed with energy, and as Lila picked up a silver locket, the whispers transformed into frantic cries: “Put them back! It’s not yours!”

Panic surged. Jake grabbed Lila’s arm. “We need to leave—now!”

As they turned to escape, shadowy figures emerged from the trees, lost souls trapped within the woods. “You’ve awakened us,” one spirit lamented, its voice like rustling leaves.

In a moment of clarity, Lila dropped the locket. Emily stepped forward, her voice trembling. “We’re sorry! We didn’t mean to disturb you!” She began placing the items back into the chest. With each piece returned, the spirits began to fade, their sorrow lifting like mist.

Finally, with the last item back in place, the chest closed with a resounding thud, and the whispers quieted. The shadows receded, leaving only the soft glow of the moonlight.

Breathless, the friends hurried back through the woods, the chill of the night now mingled with relief. Emerging from the tree line, the festival sounds returned, washing away the memory of the shadows.

From that night on, the Whispering Woods remained a place of mystery, but the townsfolk spoke of it with renewed respect. Lila, Jake, and Emily learned that some secrets are best left undisturbed, and sometimes the bravest thing is to listen to the whispers of the past. Every Halloween, children gathered at the woods’ edge, sharing stories of the lost souls, forever mindful of the warnings echoing through the trees.
ID: zigzag89

[Toxidrome]

The old house on Raven Hill was a local legend. Every Halloween, a single, sickly purple glow came from the porch, not like the warm, friendly pumpkins on our street. Old Man Alastar lived there, and folks said he didn't just carve his jack-o'-lanterns... he made deals with them.

This year, after he passed, the house went dark. So me and the guys, thinking we were brave, decided to check it out on a dare. The door creaked open easy. Inside, covered in dust, was the most incredible pumpkin I'd ever seen. The carving wasn't a silly face, but these intricate, swirling patterns that looked like dice, card suits, and symbols I didn't recognize. It was hollow, but the inside was... too dark. Like a void.

"Awesome souvenir," I said, and took it home.

I put it on my desk and, just for a laugh, screwed in a light bulb. The moment I switched it on, my room was bathed in that same cold, violet light. That's when I saw it—a shadow on the wall behind it. It wasn't mine, and it wasn't the pumpkin's. It was a tall, thin shadow of a man in a wide-brimmed hat. It turned its head and I heard a whisper, clear as day in my mind: "The bet is placed."

That's when my luck changed. And I mean, changed. I found money on the sidewalk. I won every silly bet with my friends. I even guessed the exact number of jellybeans in a jar at the county fair. It was crazy.

But then the dreams started. Visions of people I'd never met, their faces twisted with hope and despair. I'd wake up with the taste of coins in my mouth. My own memories started feeling thin, like someone was draping theirs over mine. I looked in the mirror yesterday and for a split second, I didn't see myself. I saw Old Man Alastar, and he was smiling.

I get it now. He wasn't haunting that pumpkin. He was using it to settle a debt, passing it on to the next sucker. The "good luck" was just the bait. The real jackpot was my soul.

The light just flickered on by itself. The shadow's back on the wall. It's waiting. Halloween is almost here, and I can feel my time running out. I need to find someone... someone to take this lantern off my hands. The game has to continue.

ID: Toxidrome

Edited October 27, 2025 by Toxidrome

[Kippo]

“The House That Waited”

 

Every October, the old Marrowby House came alive — not with people, but with whispers. The townsfolk of Elden Hollow said you could hear them if you stood close enough on Halloween night — voices that fluttered through the cracked windows like moths to a flame.

 

For thirty years, no one had dared to step inside. That is, until this year.

 

A group of friends — Nora, Eli, June, and Sam — decided to livestream a Halloween dare. “Twenty minutes in the Marrowby House,” Nora grinned, her flashlight beam slicing through the fog. “We’ll be legends.”

 

The house was a skeleton against the moonlight, its front door sagging like an open mouth. Inside, everything smelled of dust and memory. A grandfather clock stood still at 11:59 — its pendulum frozen mid-swing.

 

June laughed nervously. “Creepy, but not that bad.”

 

Then the door shut behind them.

 

Eli tried the handle. Locked.

 

From upstairs came a slow, deliberate thud. Then another. Then silence.

 

Sam aimed his phone’s flashlight at the staircase. “Maybe it’s just —”

 

A whisper cut him off. Soft, like someone standing too close. “You made it back.”

 

The light flickered. When it steadied, the stairs were empty — except for a small porcelain doll sitting on the third step. None of them had seen it before.

 

Nora swallowed. “Let’s just record a quick video and go.”

 

The clock ticked once. Once. Then, impossibly, it began to chime twelve.

 

Each chime echoed like a heartbeat through the house. With every toll, something changed. Wallpaper peeled back to reveal handprints. The air grew thick with the smell of iron. Shadows gathered in corners, taking the shape of something almost human.

 

June whispered, “It’s counting us.”

 

On the twelfth chime, the house went silent. Then, a woman’s voice — faint but clear — drifted through the halls.

 

“Four came in… three will leave.”

 

Their flashlights blinked out.

 

Only Nora’s camera survived — found the next morning, propped neatly on the porch steps. The footage showed her running through the house, breathing hard, calling out her friends’ names. But the final frame froze on her face — eyes wide, mouth open — staring at something behind the camera.

 

And then… a whisper.

“Welcome home.”

 

Every Halloween since, the Marrowby House has glowed faintly from within, as though the lights were back on. Some say it’s just kids playing tricks.

Others say it’s Nora, waiting for the next group of four.

stake id : Leesyztmzgyi 

[ruthlessunruly]

i'm here for the money, that's spooky enough i guess.

[sirohi164]

stakeに入金すると、、、、

不気味なほどにゲームに没頭。周りが見えない程、熱くなって、残高が、、、😆

 

ID:sirohi164

[kamechan]

The demon in my house was scarier than Halloween.🎃

When I was little, I had English class on Halloween.📕👦

I was little, so I skipped English class and got my allowance to use for Halloween gifts, but I tried to keep it for myself.🤑

When I got home, my mom found out I'd skipped English class.

The angry look on her face at the time made it seem even scarier than Halloween. She looked like a real demon to me.

I was the one in the wrong, after all.

But now, I look back on it as a fond memory, knowing that it helped me raise a good child.🤣

 

kamechan

[foxjoker9]

The old house on the hill was always silent. But on Halloween night, a single candle flickered in its attic window. Kids dared each other to knock.

Tommy, the bravest, climbed the creaking porch. Before he could knock, the heavy door swung open with a groan. Inside was only darkness and the smell of dust.

A whisper, dry as dead leaves, echoed from within: "The candy is inside... but so am I."

The door slammed shut. The candle went out. Tommy was never seen again. Now, every Halloween, a new candle lights in the attic, waiting for the next brave soul.


foxjoker9

[chauchidze]

Every year at work, I’m the one who organizes Halloween — the decorations, the costumes, the music, everything. I always make sure it’s perfect.
But this year… something felt different.

When I got to the office around eight in the morning, I noticed a smell.
It wasn’t the usual scent of stale coffee or cleaning spray — it was old, damp, like something rotting beneath the floorboards.

I shrugged it off at first, thinking maybe the janitor forgot to take out the trash.
But as the hours passed, the smell seemed to move.
From the hallway… into the break room… then into my office.
It was following me.

When I went to check the decorations from the night before, I noticed something that definitely hadn’t been there.
On my desk sat a small, hand-stitched doll — its button eyes crudely sewn with black thread.
Around its neck hung a tiny paper tag that read:
"stake broke.... 

 

that was scariest thing 

 

 

id chauchidze

 

[gamerzack]

Every Halloween, the quiet town of Millford held its pumpkin carving contest in the old barn by the woods. This year, Henry wanted to win — he’d spent hours perfecting his pumpkin: a grinning, glowing monster with the word Stake carved across its chest.

When he finished, the candle inside flickered strangely — once, twice — then glowed blood-red. The air turned cold. Henry laughed nervously, thinking it was the wind.

Then the pumpkin blinked.

Its carved grin widened, splitting deeper into the rind. The word Stake began to pulse like a heartbeat. Henry stumbled back as the pumpkin’s stubby arms — the ones he’d carved for fun — reached out, scraping along the table.

“Nice work…” it rasped, voice hollow as the autumn wind. “Now it’s your turn to glow.”

They found Henry the next morning — his skin orange, his eyes hollow, and a candle burning behind his grin.

And on the table sat another perfect pumpkin… carved with a new word: “Next.”

id: gamerzack

[Aerena09]

The storm knocked the power out as Mia tucked her son into bed. He clung to her, whispering that the man in the closet had been watching him again. She smiled, telling him it was only his imagination, then opened the closet to show him—nothing.

Later that night, she woke to her son’s laughter echoing from his room. But when she peeked inside, the bed was empty, the window wide open, and a second voice whispered from the dark closet, softly mocking her tone: “It was only your imagination".

Stake ID - Aerena09 

 

[kkkk99999]

"The pumpkins crept in overnight, their vines snaking through streets like skeletal fingers. At first, it was just a curiosity – a glowing pumpkin on every doorstep. But then the memories started coming. Twisted, distorted, and unshakeable. Ava knew she had to stop it, but the patch seemed to be growing, spreading its dark influence... 🎃👻"

Kkkk99999

[sofia]

On a foggy Halloween night in 2025, the old Stake mansion loomed at the edge of town, its windows glowing with an eerie orange hue. Legend said it housed a cursed deck of cards, each ace promising wealth but stealing a year of life. Teenagers Mia and Jake, armed with flashlights, dared to explore.Inside, cobwebs draped the walls, and a chill hung in the air. In the parlor, they found a table with a single deck, the aces glowing faintly. Tempted, Jake drew the Ace of Spades. A shadowy figure appeared, grinning. "One year," it rasped, vanishing with a cackle. Mia grabbed Jake’s arm, but the clock struck midnight—his hair turned gray.They fled, the mansion silent behind them. The next day, the house was gone, but Jake aged a year with every heartbeat. The cards, it seemed, never lost a bet.

 

stake name : sofia

[kaitalow]

On Halloween morning, 　I drank too much and wet the bed.

The dirt on the pee was in the shape of a jack-o-lantern

My wife's face was scarier than a ghost

 

kaitalow

Edited October 28, 2025 by kaitalow

[Nextyyy]

Eddie had never been a believer in curses.

A regular player on Stake, he treated Plinko as a harmless thrill — a game of chance and insane multiplier. He spent his evenings watching the little ball bounce through its pins, chasing multipliers he rarely caught. But on one stormy October night, he got what he’d always wanted.

The ball danced. It bounced left, right, center — and dropped into 1000x.

His balance exploded. The chat went wild. He laughed until tears came, staring at the number that had changed his luck.

Then, something flickered on the screen.

For a split second, the Plinko board warped. The lights dimmed, game distorted distorted, and a shape appeared behind the pins — tall, humanoid, with hollow eyes glowing faint orange. Eddie blinked, and it was gone.

That night, the sounds began.

Soft clicking noises, like marbles dropping through pins. They echoed through his dark room. The walls seemed to breathe with static. Every time he tried to sleep, he’d hear that faint digital chime — the ball drop sound coming from nowhere.

By the third night, his phone lit up on its own.

The screen showed Plinko again, but the board looked… wrong. The pegs were black and sharp. The ball pulsed like a heartbeat. Against his will, his thumb tapped Play. The ball dropped, clicking down the pins — each hit ringing louder, sharper.

It landed on 1000x again.

A text appeared: “You’ve been chosen.”

Eddie froze. His reflection in the glass wasn’t alone. Behind him stood the figure from the screen — tall, winged, its face stretched in a grin carved too deep to be human. Its skin shimmered with tiny dots of orange light — like Plinko pegs burning under flesh.

He ran.

But every reflection — his phone, his TV, his laptop — showed the entity closer.

Each time he blinked, it took another step.

The final message came at 3:33 a.m. on his phone:

“No one leaves with 1000x.”

The next morning, Eddie's home was empty . The computer was still on, Plinko running in endless autoplay. The chat scrolled endlessly with the same message repeating:

1000x. 1000x. 1000x.

And sometimes — just before the screen flickers — you can still see his reflection, smiling with the same orange glow in his eyes.

 

Stake I'd : Nextyyy 

[Taufeeqkhan]

When art imitates life a little too closely

 

There was a house in a small neighborhood in Maryland that went overboard with Halloween decorations every year. Whenever the crisp, fall air rolled in, the entire town would look forward to the unveiling of the new display. But no one ever really talked to the person who did the actual decorating; he was a loner. People only knew him for his Halloween spirit, and his decorations became grander and more lifelike every year. The newest one was a Vlad the Impaler theme: hyper-realistic, bloodied mannequins were pierced through with wooden stakes and left to the crows in a gruesome display. It was the ultimate work of horror—so much so that it caused quite the controversy in the town. While some loved it, many of the local parents wanted it taken down for their children’s sake, so a town official made the trip to the house soon after the unveiling to discuss the matter with the man who lived there.

 

She knocked on the front door. No answer. Knock, knock. Nothing. She rang the doorbell. Nothing still. It was then that the official realized there was a putrid smell in the yard and an unusual amount of bugs buzzing around for this time of year. She wandered over to one of the mannequins to get a closer look at the incredible craftsmanship. The smell got worse. She gagged and had to put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide. The official put her trembling finger up to the doll … and felt the soft, smooth, cold touch of human skin. After that, no one was able to locate the man who’d once lived there. Now, it is truly a haunted house

 

Stake I'd-   Taufeeqkhan