💰[$1,000] Tell us your spooky story 📚

[Miguel22234]

Una pareja se muda a una casa antigua. Todo parece normal hasta que la mujer empieza a notar cosas pequeñas: los cubiertos cambian de lugar, una silla se balancea sola, y por las noches siente que alguien la observa desde el pasillo.

 

Una noche decide grabar con su celular mientras duerme.

A la mañana siguiente revisa el video: ella está dormida, pero hay una figura de pie junto a la cama… mirándola durante horas.

 

Lo peor no es eso.

Esa figura tenía su misma cara.

Miguel22234 

[kangurihakase]

8 hours ago, kangurihakase said:

 

This is the story I experienced during the summer vacation when I was 12 years old.

At that time, I lived in a housing complex.

There is a small park in front of the apartment complex, and it was when I was playing with two girls in the neighborhood.

"Hey, I'm free, so let's test our courage," Ako said boredly while holding a wooden stick and scribbling with sand.

Around 13 o'clock on Saturday, to child A who said that she was going to test her courage in a bright hour, B and I said, "It's such a bright time, but there's no way to be afraid of testing your courage!" We laughed at each other, but to be honest, I was bored because there were few people, so I decided to talk about Ako.

The place to test our courage is the "neighborhood shrine" among us.

The shrine is located about a 2-minute walk from the apartment complex, and even in bright hours, it has a strange atmosphere that scares you just by looking at it from a distance.

There is a sorry playground equipment and a small Noh stage, and it's a disrupted condition that you don't even know if you're managing it.

I had played at a shrine once in the past, but I was overwhelmed by fear and didn't last a few minutes, and from there I tried not to get close to the shrine, so it was the perfect place to test our courage.

When I arrived at the shrine, I was still surrounded by a strange atmosphere, and it was difficult to get close.

I was going to knock on the door of the Noh stage one by one and come back, but I was so scared that my legs couldn't move forward, so the three of us decided to go.

When I stepped into the shrine grounds, the air was heavy, and I felt chilly even though it was midsummer daytime.

Slowly approaching the Noh stage, Ako knocks on the door three times with a knock, and a knock comes back slowly.

We screamed and hurried out of the shrine.

The two of them were sitting there, and I lay on my back, hiding my face, and shaking.

Seeing that, Bko said, "Hey, what's wrong?" He spoke to me, but I said, "You're right in front of me..." while hiding my face.

"A woman is in front of me"

Something like a video of a woman with a pale face and black eyes looking into my face, which should not be seen directly, flowed in my brain.

The two of them hurried and decided to contact their inspired friend Cko and ask her to come.

C-ko also lives in the neighborhood and came to the shrine where we are in about 3 minutes.

I couldn't move, so A and B snuggled up to me.

The woman's face faded more and more, but I remember that it was a moment when I was so scared that 3 minutes felt so long.

C-ko said, "You don't have to hide your face anymore," and I looked at C-ko with peace of mind.

Then C's mother also came and looked at us worriedly.

Child C and child C's mother sprinkled salt and banged their backs! He slapped and did a simple exorcism.

After that, I decided to visit C-ko's house and talk.

When we explained the circumstances of the incident, C said, "There was a woman whose eyes were hollowed out. I think that's why his eyes were black. Moreover, he is a strong spirit, so I don't want you to go to that shrine again," we were scolded.

According to Cko, I am sensitive to the environment and people and tend to feel spiritual things. In addition, I was told that it was better not to go if I thought it was not good because the spirit would come to mess with me because I was weak and kind.

Since then, I've been trying not to get close to that shrine or places that I thought were not good.

kangurihakase

 

[Andyzhoy]

One night, I was on my way home from work. It was dark and quiet, and I saw an old woman standing at the corner. When I passed by her, she said, “You’re walking so fast…” and smiled. I just kept walking, but when I looked back — she was gone. When I got home, I looked in the mirror… and saw a hand on my shoulder, even though I was alone.🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🌲🌲😨                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         stake id : Andyzhoy                                                                                           😨

[meoracle]

My story is very simple: " Plinko ". It’s really terrifying.

[aracelli]

Aracellisepu

El susurro en el espejo”

 

Cada noche, antes de dormir, Lara limpiaba el espejo del baño. No soportaba ver las marcas que aparecían cada mañana: huellas pequeñas, como de dedos de un niño. Vivía sola.

 

Una madrugada, escuchó un leve golpeteo desde el baño. Tomó su celular, encendió la linterna y se acercó. El espejo estaba empañado, aunque no había ducha encendida. Sobre el vidrio, alguien había escrito: “no apagues la luz”.

 

Lara retrocedió, temblando. De pronto, su reflejo parpadeó un segundo después que ella. Se quedó mirándolo, sin respirar.

 

El reflejo sonrió.

Y desde adentro del espejo, se escuchó su propia voz:

—Gracias por dejarme salir.

 

A la mañana siguiente, el departamento estaba vacío. Pero el espejo, limpio, devolvía una sonrisa que ya no era la suya.

[lemmegetit]

Once I went to stake to play halloween slots on halloween, I lost all my money.

The end.

lemmegetit

[allin737]

🎃 “The Last House on Maple Street”

Every Halloween, kids in town avoid the last house on Maple Street. No one remembers who lives there, but every year, a single pumpkin glows on the porch.

This Halloween, twelve-year-old Ben dared to knock.
“Trick or treat!” he shouted.

The door creaked open by itself. Inside, dozens of pumpkin lanterns flickered — each one carved with a different child’s face.

Ben laughed nervously. “Cool decorations.”

Then he noticed — one pumpkin had his face on it. The mouth was still uncarved.

Behind him, a raspy voice whispered,
“Hold still, dear… I’m not finished yet.”

The next morning, the pumpkin on the porch smiled brightly — its mouth now complete.

And no one ever saw Ben again.

 

stake：allin737

[Rikardo77]

Golpes en el coche

 

Una familia, compuesta por dos pequeños y sus padres, viajaban por carretera hacia [....] cuando el coche se les averió. Los padres salieron a buscar ayuda y, para que los niños no se aburrieran, les dejaron con la radio encendida. Cayó la noche y los padres seguían sin volver cuando escucharon una inquietante noticia en la radio: un asesino muy peligroso se había escapado de un centro penitenciario cercano a [....] y pedían que se extremaran las precauciones.

 

Las horas pasaban y los padres de los niños no regresaban. De pronto, empezaron a escuchar golpes sobre sus cabezas. “Poc, poc, poc”. Los golpes, que parecían provenir de algo que golpeaba la parte de arriba del coche, eran cada vez más rápidos y más fuertes. “POC, POC, POC”. Los niños, aterrados, no pudieron resistir más: abrieron la puerta y huyeron a toda prisa.

 

Solo el mayor de los niños se atrevió a girar la cabeza para mirar qué provocaba los golpes. No debería haberlo hecho: sobre el coche había un hombre de gran tamaño, que golpeaba la parte superior del vehículo con algo que tenía en las manos: eran las cabezas de sus padres.

Id: ricardia232

[iloveu0215]

This happened back when I lived in an old duplex. I was on the second floor, and across the narrow alley, maybe forty feet away, was the back of another two-story building. It was mostly laundry lines and fire escapes, nothing interesting.

One Tuesday night, I was standing in my kitchen doing dishes. The window above the sink was dark, reflecting the harsh light of the fluorescent bulb inside. It must have been around 1:00 AM. I was just staring blankly at my reflection when I noticed something strange in the glass.

In the reflected darkness of the building across the alley, there was a window I’d never paid attention to. It was the window of the second-floor rear apartment directly across from mine. And in that window, there was a face.

It was pale, just a blank white oval, completely motionless. It didn't look like a human face, exactly—too smooth, too simple—but it was definitely the shape of a head turned toward me. No hair, no features distinguishable in the dark, just a vague, unsettling shape.

I stopped washing the dish and stared. The reflection was perfect; the face was watching me.


stake; iloveu0215

Edited October 31, 2025 by iloveu0215

[ConanXD]

It was precisely 3:00 AM. I was driving alone on a backroad—the kind where the trees lean in like shadowy conspirators. My radio had been nothing but static and hiss for miles. I was about to turn it off, when a sound—not a station, not a song—but a single, high-pitched whine cut through the noise.

Then came a voice. It was a whisper, raspy and dry, like dead leaves dragging across stone.

“They’re waiting for you, little traveler,” it hissed.

I laughed, a nervous, quick sound. "Very funny," I muttered, thinking it was some kind of elaborate prank broadcast.

But the voice didn't stop. It grew louder, moving from a whisper to a low, guttural murmur that seemed to come not from the speakers, but from the back seat of my car.

“The woods know your scent. They remember the last time you passed this way.”

My blood ran cold. I hadn't been on this road before. I slammed the brakes, the car skidding to a halt. The woods were impossibly dark now, and the moon, which had been a comforting silver orb, was entirely gone.

I fumbled for my phone to call for help, but the screen was dead, showing nothing but a fractured black glass. I looked into the rearview mirror, and instead of my own frightened face, I saw a pair of luminous yellow eyes staring back, framed by a shadow that wasn't quite human.

Then the static returned, louder this time, a blinding, painful shriek. It consumed everything—the engine noise, the whisper, even the sound of my own frantic breathing. I covered my ears, and when I opened my eyes again, the eyes in the mirror were gone. The radio was back to a faint, gentle hiss.

I drove the rest of the way in silence, heart hammering against my ribs.

But here's the kicker, the part that keeps me from sleeping: When I got home, I found a single, brittle, yellowed leaf pressed flat against the glass of my rearview mirror. It wasn't there when I started the car.

And every night since then, when I try to turn off the lights, I hear that same faint, dry whisper just at the edge of my hearing: 



stake username; ConanXD

[Need5k]

 

I was cycling home alone on a empty village road in the midnight. when I am passing the abundant graveyard, I saw a white dressed figure near the road, seems like the figure was floating on he air and following me slowly . When I stopped, the figure stopped too, and calling my name to follow him. the sound that felt like pure cold. it called me several times. I froze for a while. then when I got my sense, I start cycling faster and praying to god. I didn't look back until I was a mile down the road near the local village. I never been to that road again. That's it, thanks.

Stake id: Need5k

Edited October 31, 2025 by Need5k

[luisdhm]

The pumpkin’s grin flickered. Inside, the candle guttered, then died. A cold silence fell.

From the extinguished glow, a wisp of smoke uncoiled. It thickened, forming a slender, shadowed figure with hollow eyes. It drifted past the frozen children on the porch, its touch a sudden, profound chill.

It didn’t rattle chains or scream. It simply drank the warmth from the air, the laughter from their throats, leaving only the quiet echo of a forgotten joy.

Halloween isn’t just for ghosts that remember life. It’s for those that never knew it.

 

stake: luisdhm

[Hanuman8283]

Stake 🆔 - Hanuman8283

My Night with Resurrection MaryIt's October 31, 2025, and here I am, scribbling this down in a dingy motel room on Archer Avenue, the kind of place where the neon sign buzzes like a dying insect and the walls smell of old regret. Chicago's got that bite in the air tonight—crisp, like the edge of a grave—and I've always been a sucker for ghost stories, the ones that feel too real to laugh off. Call it morbid curiosity, or maybe just the whiskey talking, but I drove out here from the city, chasing a legend I've heard since I was a kid: Resurrection Mary. They say she's the Lady in White, hitching rides on this stretch of road, a beautiful girl in a white dress who vanishes like smoke when you get too close. Dozens swear they've seen her over the years—drivers picking her up, chatting about dances and dreams, only for her to slip away at the gates of Resurrection Cemetery. Real people, real cars, real chills down their spines. I figured, why not? It's Halloween. What's the harm in playing ghost hunter for a night?I left my apartment around 10 p.m., the streets alive with costumed crowds spilling out of bars, witches and zombies laughing under the orange glow of jack-o'-lanterns. But as I merged onto Archer, the noise faded, swallowed by the flat, endless dark of the suburbs. The road's lined with nothing but shadows—warehouses like sleeping giants, cornfields whispering secrets to the wind. My headlights cut through the fog rolling in off the Des Plaines River, and I cranked the radio for company, some old jazz station crackling with static. That's when I saw her.She was standing there, thumb out, maybe a quarter-mile from the cemetery turnoff. Pale as moonlight, hair like spun gold catching the beam of my high beams. She wore this flowing white dress, the kind from the '30s—silky, ethereal, not a speck of dirt on it despite the gravel shoulder. No coat, no purse, just standing there calm as you please, like she owned the night. My heart did a little flip—part fear, part that dumb thrill you get from flirting with the unknown. I slowed the car, tires crunching to a stop. "Need a lift?" I called through the cracked window, my voice steadier than I felt.She smiled, and God, it was the kind of smile that hits you in the chest—warm, inviting, like she'd been waiting for me specifically. "To the cemetery," she said, her voice soft, almost swallowed by the engine hum. No accent I could place, but it carried this echo, like it was coming from underwater. I nodded, unlocked the door, and she slid in, smooth as silk. Up close, she was stunning: blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dashboard light, skin cool and flawless, smelling faintly of gardenias and something earthier, like fresh-dug soil after rain. "I'm Mary," she said, buckling up without looking at the belt. "Thanks for stopping. Not many do anymore."We drove in easy silence at first, the road unspooling like a black ribbon. I glanced over, trying not to stare. "Halloween tradition?" I asked, forcing a laugh. "Dressing up as the ghost on the road?"Her laugh tinkled like wind chimes—light, but it sent a shiver racing up my arms. "Something like that. I come out every year, you know. The Willowbrook Ballroom's gone now, torn down years ago, but I still hear the music sometimes. Big band swings, couples dancing till dawn." She trailed a finger along the window, fogging it with her touch. "What about you? What's a guy like you doing out here on a night like this?"I shrugged, gripping the wheel tighter. "Chasing stories. Heard about you—Resurrection Mary. Thought I'd see if the tales hold water." The words hung there, awkward, and for a second, the air in the car thickened, like we'd driven into a pocket of fog. She turned to me then, really turned, and her eyes... they weren't blue anymore. They were empty, like twin wells of night, reflecting nothing but the road rushing by. "Stories," she murmured. "Everyone wants a story. But do you want the truth? I was Mary Bregovy, once. Died in a crash right here, 1934—hit by a car after a fight at the dance. My boyfriend's jealousy, they said. He left me bleeding on the asphalt. Now I walk, waiting for someone to take me home."My foot eased off the gas without thinking, the speedometer dipping. The cemetery loomed ahead, its iron gates twisted like skeletal fingers under the sodium lamps. "Home?" I echoed, my mouth dry. Up close, her dress wasn't silk—it was gossamer thin, translucent in the passing lights, and beneath it, I swear I could see the faint outline of bones, ribs pressing against fabric like they were trying to break free."Yes," she whispered, leaning closer. Her breath was cold on my neck, carrying that gardenia scent mixed with something metallic, like blood on pavement. "Take me through the gates. Dance with me one last time." The radio fizzled out mid-note, plunging the car into silence broken only by the tick of my blinker—had I signaled? Her hand brushed my arm, and it was ice, burning cold, fingers curling like roots into soil. I could feel it then, a pull, like the car was driving itself, veering toward the cemetery entrance. The gates were locked, chained, a "No Trespassing" sign rattling in the breeze, but they seemed to swing open just a crack, inviting.Panic hit me like a slap. "I—I can't," I stammered, slamming on the brakes. The tires screamed, fishtailing on the wet road, and in the rearview, I saw her reflection—or lack of it. Nothing. Just the empty back seat, her door ajar. I whipped around, heart hammering, but she was gone. Vanished. The air rushed back in, warm and stale, the radio snapping on to some tinny pop song about lost love. I sat there, shaking, staring at the gates now firmly shut, chains gleaming untouched.I didn't sleep much after that. Drove straight back to the motel, doors locked, lights on till dawn. But every time I close my eyes, I hear that laugh, feel that chill hand on my skin. And tonight, as fireworks pop outside for the last stragglers of Halloween, I swear I smell gardenias in the air. They say Mary only rides with those who'll listen—really listen—to her unfinished song. Me? I got my story, alright. But if you're ever on Archer Avenue, thumb out in the dark, and a guy in a beat-up sedan slows down... keep walking. Some dances are better left uninvited.And if you hear faint music on the wind, big band swells from nowhere... run. She's still waiting. For you.

 

[Suganthroy]

its a long Winter Day As i was driving home through streets of texas in the night to reach my home after a get together party. While driving the car a little girl crying on the street where nobody is nearby  when got down to reach her to see if i can help her when i got down on my feet all the lights around me started to blink and when to started to walk toward the little girl the lights started to blink faster when i was about to reach her it was atter dark all the lights went off and it was pin drop silence and i have stopped hearing the little girls crying too i tried to reach her through my voice but there was no response my heart started to beat as fast as race car suddenly i hear a big blast and it was a poper and when all the lights came on and i saw few people in halloween shirts wishing happy halloween and i was in a sigh of relief and it was all drama by young kids then i decided to join the kids tonight to do the same against others 

Suganthroy

[erion24]

🎃 “The Stake That Never Slept” 👻

 

At midnight on October 31st, the lights of Stake.com flickered — not from bad servers, but from something… alive.

Players around the world noticed strange bonuses appearing: $6.66 drops, ghost spins, and usernames that didn’t exist whispering “Double or die…”

 

A gambler named Leo decided to test it. He placed one last bet — 0.0666 BTC — on a slot called The Haunted Vault. The reels spun endlessly, then stopped on three glowing pumpkins. His balance didn’t go up… it went red.

Suddenly, his webcam turned on. A reflection smiled back — but it wasn’t his own.

 

Next morning, a new account appeared on the leaderboard: Ghost_Leo, winning every spin. The support team says no such user exists. But every Halloween, his name still tops the charts… and if you spin at midnight, you might just hear him say:

💀 “Wanna play… one last round?” 💀

 

#HappyHalloween #StakeStories 🎰

 

Stake : Erion24

[Slowboii]

Stake id: Slowboii

Title: A personal story with a important message!

I've never believed in ghosts or anything... but some experiences lately have made me think twice.
My best friend decided 3 years ago yesterday that life was too much for him, he took his own car and drove it pretty far into a forest trail, stopped, and injected 1g of heroin. When I heard what had happened something in me just broke... 

He was the better half of my soul, and that part is now somewhere it deserves to be. He will be my angel forever no doubt.

After I got my own place for the first time in my life and I had settled down... i had slept in my apartment for a few days and everything was good.

One day at 22, or maybe 23 I went out for a cigarette... when I come back inside I see the lights in the bathroom is just... turning on.... turning off... turning on...turning off.... turning on... turning off....I go to check and I see the light switch is in the "off" position. Strange I thought, but somehow I knew that my friend was giving me a signal that "I'm here". 

It didn't scare me or anything...

Well, yesterday around the same time I heard the floor heat turn off and on again 3 times (it makes a click noise)... it has never done that earlier, and it made me think about my friend that passed away 3 years ago...

 

It was not a scary story, but I wanted to share.

Talk about suicide with whomever is close to you. Talking about suicide saves lives!
It's never fun to hear someone you love say that they don't want to live any longer, but trust me when I say that experiencing that they suddendly isn't there anymore is much much harder.

3 years has passed and i'm still. heartbroken... i'm not really sure that will ever go away.

 

[Greeky88]

one day I joined the biggest crypto casino and I was told there's a monster a hideous scary one there and you have to tune in stream live to see this hideous foul thing his evil stare and smile will leave you tormented and bothered they call him Edward Eddie craven

 

 

stake -   Greeky88

[DARSHAI]

👻 The Phantom Bet

By DARSHAI

They said the old VIP room at Stake was haunted — not by spirits, but by luck itself.

Every Halloween night, a mysterious user called “HouseEdge0” appeared in the live chat. No one ever saw him wager, yet his balance kept growing. Players claimed he whispered odds to them — perfectly accurate every time — until they got greedy. Then, suddenly, their screens froze, and their balances vanished into static.

One October 31st, I decided to find the truth. I mirrored his bets, coin by coin, round by round. Each one hit. My heart raced — was this luck or something else? But when I reached for the final spin, my screen flickered, and a message appeared:

> “You win when you stop.”

Then, everything went dark.

When I reopened the site, my account showed HouseEdge0 as the username. My own profile was gone.

Now, I’m the one whispering to new players, warning them not to bet past midnight on Halloween…
because luck always collects what it’s owed. 🎰👻

Stake ID: DARSHAI

[MarcelZapata]

The air in the hills above Heredia was not cold, but it carried a chilling, dense moisture—the kind of bruma that swallowed the sounds of the distant city and muffled the frantic croaking of the tropical frogs. October 31st had surrendered to November 1st, and in the small, wooden house nestled among the coffee plants, Elena felt the crushing weight of the calendar.

She had spent the whole day scrubbing the house, not in preparation for the coming Día de Muertos, but in defiance of it. She refused to hang the traditional candelarias (small lanterns) on the porch, and she had certainly not set out the altar with their smiling photographs. Setting out an altar meant acceptance, and Elena’s grief over her twins, Mateo and Sofía, was a stubborn, living thing that had taken root in her chest three years ago, when the river had swollen without warning.

As midnight passed, the air grew thick with a scent of damp earth and something sweet, like burnt sugar cane. Elena sat rocking slowly in the darkness, the only light the faint orange glow escaping the kitchen.

Then, the world outside began to flicker.

It started subtly. Outside her window, the dense tropical darkness was punctured by thousands of tiny, moving sparks. These were not the usual, lazy luciernagas (fireflies) of the dry season; these were frenzied, synchronous lights, pulsing like a failing heart. They gathered low to the ground, forming a shimmering, luminous tide that defied the heavy mist.

Elena, initially startled, felt an inexplicable pull toward the porch. It was then she remembered the old stories her abuela used to tell, tales whispered in the Central Valley about the night of the souls. They said that on the first night of November, the smallest, newest souls—those of children who left too soon—needed tiny, insistent lights to guide them home. They travelled not through the air, but along the earth, protected by the candelilla, the Guiding Fireflies.

A deep, shuddering sob escaped her.

She walked onto the porch, the heavy bruma instantly clinging to her thin cotton dress. The sight was breathtaking. The entire slope of the coffee plantation was illuminated by the relentless, low-flying light. The fireflies had clustered, and now, they were not random points, but seemed to form two distinct, narrow trails leading right up to her front steps.

One trail pulsed with a quick, excited rhythm, like a playful sprint. The other glowed with a steadier, calm light, pausing slightly before the last step.

Mateo. Sofía.

She didn't see figures, didn't hear voices, but she felt them. The air around the steps became momentarily warm, carrying the distinct, faint smell of the lavender soap she used to bathe them with. For the first time in three years, the knot of defiance in her chest loosened. She knew, deep down, that they weren't haunting her; they were just coming home for a visit.

Kneeling on the cool wooden floor, Elena whispered two names into the flickering glow. “Bienvenidos, mis amores. Ya están aquí.”

The firefly trails held steady for a long moment, their collective light illuminating a small, forgotten, hand-carved wooden top that had rolled under the steps years ago. Then, slowly, peacefully, the trails began to drift apart, scattering back into the darkness of the plantation, the duty of guiding their spirits complete.

Elena finally rose, a quiet peace settling over her. She knew they were gone again, but the paralyzing fear was lifted. She walked into the kitchen, found two small, unlit candles, and a box of matches. She placed one candle by the window for Mateo and one on the counter for Sofía, striking the match and watching the small flames catch. The light was small, but it was enough. The Guiding Fireflies had done their work.

 

Stake id: MarcelZapata12

[Sopinao83]

I was in a hotel alone in the jacuzzi and my clothes were in the other room and I felt a strange feeling and when I got out my clothes were not there i search for them and found out that they appeared in the shower by themselves!

Sopinao83 

[Tussan]

The Bell Tower

On Halloween night, Eddie, Steve, and Mikey slipped into the abandoned church at the edge of town...
according to the townlore the bells hadn’t rung in decades, but the boys had to find out if the rumours were true that you could hear it toll every year on Halloween night..

..Today it was halloween, the moon was full and it was getting close to midnight..

They climbed the spiral stairs up the bell tower, their flashlights shaking against the walls. At the top, the bell hung silent, covered in dust..

Then the ropes started to move on their own. The bell swung once, twice, three times.....its sound hollow, like it came from the underground...

When the echoes from the bell faded, two broken flashlights layed on the floor but the third kept shining.. pointed at the bell… where Eddie’s face now stared back from the tarnished metal... 👻

[Khennneth]

The Collector of Silence

The wind on Hemlock Street whispered, scattering dead leaves like brittle confetti. It was Halloween, and ten-year-old Leo, dressed as a vampire, stood frozen before the last house—the Quietest House. The legend was that the owner, old Mr. Hemlock, collected silence.

Leo's friend, Maya, dared him. "Go on, Leo. Ring the bell."

He stepped onto the dark porch. As he pressed the tarnished brass doorbell, a profound nothing answered. The silence deepened, sucking the sounds of the night away. The distant shouts of trick-or-treaters vanished.

The door opened just a crack, revealing a slice of an empty, dust-filled room. A dry, rasping voice issued from the dark, devoid of inflection.

"What is your offering?"

Leo stammered, holding out his bucket. "Trick... or treat?"

"Not sweets," the voice corrected. "Your sound."

A small, velvet drawstring bag dropped silently onto the mat. As Leo’s fingers closed around it, he felt a strange, cold pull near his throat. A sharp, high-pitched ping—the sound of his own gasp—flew from his mouth, instantly drawn through the crack.

He tried to speak, but only a dry puff of air escaped. His voice was gone.

The crack closed with a dull, absolute thud.

Leo tore open the bag. Inside, on the crimson lining, was a single, clear, polished marble. Inside its center was a tiny, silvery coil—the frozen, preserved sound of his stolen gasp.

Maya ran up, breathless. "What did he give you?"

Leo desperately tried to explain, pointing at his throat and then at the marble, but only a silent, panicked shriek came out. He knew then that Mr. Hemlock wasn't giving out candy. He was collecting all the beautiful, strange noises of the season, storing them in an endless, echoing silence, one perfect marble at a time.

Now, all Leo could hear was the terrifying sound of the wind returning to whisper.

 

khennneth

[Maaraa]

Eddie entered an old casino rumored to reopen only once a year.He sat at a dusty slot machine marked stake, fed it a coin, and pulled the lever. Jackpot! Lights flashed, coins poured outenough to make him rich.The dealer at the next table grinned. Congratulations. Youve won big Eddie laughed reaching for the money
but his hands passed through it.He looked around. Every gambler in the room stared back with empty eyes and hollow faces.The dealer said,Everyone who wins here stays forever. Eddie’s chair creaked as his reflection appeared on the screensmiling, frozen waiting for the next player to sit down.

id maaraashdeee

[Genaro199]

Escuché ruidos de machete afuera.

Apagué las luces y salí a ver.

Mi perro fue conmigo… hasta que el ruido se hizo más fuerte.

Entonces, salió corriendo con miedo.

Y yo quedé solo… escuchando el cling, cling en la oscuridad.

Escuché ruidos de machete afuera.
Apagué las luces y salí a ver.
Mi perro fue conmigo… hasta que el ruido se hizo más fuerte.
Entonces, salió corriendo con miedo.
Y yo quedé solo… escuchando el cling, cling en la oscuridad. 

Id: Genaro199

[Bhavya4114]

The Algorithm's Grin

Sarah had just won a small contest, netting a $1,000 gift card. To celebrate, she treated herself to a new, ultra-minimalist smartphone—sleek, featureless, and almost entirely black. She loved how clean it was.

Two days later, she was scrolling through her photos late at night. They were all benign: dinner, her cat, a blurry sunset. Then she saw it: a photo she hadn't taken.

It was a close-up, dimly lit image of her own face, taken while she was asleep. The angle was low, from the foot of her bed. The timestamp was 3:04 AM.

She jolted upright, heart hammering, and scrambled out of bed to check the locks. All secure.

She deleted the photo, her hands shaking, and swore she'd take the phone back in the morning. She set it face-down on the nightstand and climbed back under the covers, forcing herself to breathe.

Just as her muscles started to relax, the phone on the nightstand vibrated once. Sarah didn't touch it.

She watched in the dark as the screen flared to life, casting a small, sickly glow on the ceiling. There was only one thing on the screen: the camera app.

And then, silently, in a single, fluid motion, the front-facing camera rotated to face her in the darkness.

A single notification appeared at the bottom of the screen, impossible to dismiss:

New Folder: "I see you."

And the camera's shutter indicator began to blink—red, red, red—taking photo after photo after photo.

stakeid- Bhavya4114