💰[$1,000] Tell us your spooky story 📚

[tienongdayxebo]

The Forgotten Friend

Liam’s phone buzzed with a message: “Let’s hang out like old times.”
It was from Noah, his childhood best friend.
They met at the abandoned playground that night.
Noah looked pale, quiet, and strange.
They talked for hours until dawn, when Noah said, “I’m glad you remembered me.”
When Liam got home, his mom was crying.
Noah had died ten years ago—to the day.

 

Stake id: tienongdayxebo

[minhkhoi025]

Every night, the light in the basement turned on by itself.
Amy’s father said it was faulty wiring.
But when she checked, she found her old toys neatly arranged in a circle.
The next night, she saw her childhood doll sitting on the stairs, facing her.
It whispered, “Come play again.”
Amy smashed the doll and turned off the light.
The next morning, the doll was back—smiling, holding a smaller doll that looked like her.

ID: sau02501

[keonutmayman]

The Elevator

In the old apartment building, the elevator sometimes stopped at the 13th floor.
But there was no 13th floor.
Late one Halloween night, Daniel pressed “12” but the display blinked “13.”
When the door opened, he saw a hallway filled with mirrors and soft whispers.
He stepped out for just a second.
The door closed behind him.
The elevator returned empty.

 

Stake ID: keomutmayman

[3Chulomcon]

The Call

Julia’s phone rang at 2 a.m.—an unknown number.
A voice whispered, “Don’t open the window.”
She hung up, annoyed.
Minutes later, she heard tapping on the glass.
When she looked, she saw her own reflection smiling—but she wasn’t.
Her phone rang again: “Too late.”

ID: 3chuloncon

[Brothersayhi]

The Lost Cat

Nina’s cat, Shadow, went missing two weeks ago.
On Halloween night, she heard it meowing outside.
She ran to open the door and found Shadow sitting there, eyes glowing red.
It brushed against her leg, leaving a trail of ash.
The next morning, there were paw prints burned into the floor.
And a new cat appeared—exactly like Shadow, except for the smell of smoke.

Stake ID: Brothersayhi

[votongdaho]

The Trick-or-Treater

A little girl in a white dress knocked on every door in the neighborhood.
She never said “Trick or treat,” only whispered, “Do you remember me?”
Most people laughed and gave her candy.
At dawn, police found a list of names in her candy bag—all of those who had opened the door.
By morning, every one of them had vanished.

Stake ID: votongdaho

[hahuyen2k4]

The Old Photograph Album

While cleaning the attic, Mason found an old photo album.
Every picture showed smiling families—but always the same woman in the background.
He showed it to his grandmother.
Her face turned pale.
“She’s not supposed to be in those,” she whispered.
That night, Mason took a selfie.
In the corner, the same woman smiled behind him.

Stake user: hahuyen2k4

 

Edited November 3, 2025 by hahuyen2k4

[Longvuong777]

The Music Box

Emily found a broken music box in her grandmother’s room.
When she wound it, a sweet melody filled the air.
Then she heard footsteps behind her, slow and dragging.
A voice whispered, “Dance with me.”
She turned and saw her grandmother, eyes hollow, moving to the tune.
The next morning, the music box played on its own—and two figures danced inside.

Stake id: Poseidonking77

[hientn6868]

The House That Breathed

When Alex moved into the old countryside house, he was enchanted by its rustic charm and silence. But as night fell, he began to notice something unsettling—the air inside felt thick, as if the house itself were holding its breath. Every night, the wooden floorboards creaked in a steady rhythm, slow and deliberate, like a giant heartbeat beneath his feet. Sometimes, when he stood still, he could hear faint murmurs between the beats—soft voices whispering words he couldn’t quite understand. One night, the whispers became clearer, forming a single chilling command: “Leave, before it remembers you.” Alex laughed nervously, convincing himself it was the wind or maybe rats under the floor. But when the basement door swung open on its own and a wave of warm, damp air rose from below, his laughter died. Curiosity overcame fear, and he went down with a flashlight. The walls were covered with dark, smeared handprints—small and large, old and new—as if generations had tried to climb out. The ground under him pulsed faintly, rising and falling like lungs breathing. Then, the whispers said his name. His flashlight flickered, and in the brief moment of darkness, he felt something move behind him—slow, massive, alive. He turned to run, but the stairs were gone. The walls began closing in, the heartbeat growing louder until it matched his own. When the house finally went still, there was only silence—deep, satisfied silence. A month later, when new tenants moved in, they swore the walls felt warm, and at night, the house seemed to sigh contentedly in its sleep.

Stake ID: hientn6868

[chimsedinang]

The Girl in the Well

On Halloween night, a group of kids dared Oliver to peer into the old stone well behind the church. Legends said a little girl had drowned there a hundred years ago, and her spirit still waited for someone to talk to her. The others laughed as Oliver leaned over the mossy edge, shouting, “Hello?” His voice echoed faintly—then another voice replied, soft and trembling, “Hello, Oliver.” The laughter stopped instantly. No one had said his name. Heart pounding, Oliver peered deeper into the darkness, and two faint blue eyes stared back at him from below. “Help me,” the voice whispered, fragile and desperate. His friends screamed for him to stop, but curiosity outweighed fear. He reached out his hand toward the echoing voice, feeling a sudden icy grip tighten around his wrist. The cold burned his skin as the pull grew stronger. He tried to scream, but water splashed up and swallowed his voice. The next morning, the police found only his flashlight lying beside the well, still turned on, flickering weakly. When they looked inside, they saw nothing but black water—and then, for a second, two pale faces staring up, both smiling. The townspeople sealed the well the next day, but every Halloween night, if you lean close enough, you can still hear a boy’s voice calling softly from below: “Hello... is anyone there?”

ID: chimsedinang

[RocBoyz]

There was this one time, actually, when I was a kid my sister's boyfriend had a dad with this Big House and alot of rooms in it, i where always excitied to go there, but there was this one time when we all where going to sleep over there, we jumped in the pool that he had we rana round the garden, and than the night comes, we where all going to sleep not a single light or a single sound where seen or heard, just pitch Black and full of silence the whole house, I woke up had to go to the kitchen to grab a drink, and there was this painting of a woman with nice White hair and pretty good looking i thought, but when i Walked down stairs, the fuckin eyes followed me, I Saw Them looking where I was moving! I could never believe it myself, but that memory I will never forget

[Sahil654]

It happened last year, around 2 a.m., during a power cut in Nowgaon. The whole neighborhood was silent except for the rain tapping against my window.

I stepped outside for some air when I suddenly heard my name —

> “Sahil…”

It sounded exactly like me.
The voice came from behind my house, near the bamboo trees. I called out, but no one replied. Then again — softer, closer —

> “Sahil, come here…”

I ran inside, locked the door, and turned off my flashlight. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps in the mud, stopping right outside my window.

When the lights came back, I looked out — there were footprints leading up to my window…
but none leading away.

Sometimes, when the power cuts off late at night, I still hear it —
my own voice, whispering from outside.
 

Stake : Sahilisla 

[NViF]

“The Smile That Never Faded”

It was Halloween night in the small town of Bramble Hollow a night when the air itself seemed to whisper secrets and the moon hung low, swollen and strange.

Lena Carter sat in her dimly lit apartment, the only glow coming from her laptop screen. She was a quiet girl, barely twenty-three, known for her kind smile and unlucky streak. Bills stacked on her table, eviction notice on her door but tonight, she had one last shot.

She opened Stake.com, her heart pounding. Her last $10 sat there in her balance, like the final ember of a dying fire. “One last spin,” she whispered, her breath fogging the screen.

The wheel turned. Lights flashed. Numbers blurred. Then

“CONGRATULATIONS! YOU WON $1,000,000!”

The words burned across the screen in golden fire. Lena screamed. Laughed. Cried. She spun from her chair, hands trembling, heart hammering in her chest like a drum of thunder. She ran to the mirror, laughing uncontrollably, her face glowing with pure joy.

But then something changed.

Her laughter grew sharper, louder until it no longer sounded human. Her eyes rolled back, her smile stretching, frozen in ecstasy. She gasped once, twice then collapsed. Still smiling.

When her neighbour found her the next morning, the laptop screen was still glowing faintly, displaying her winnings. But the cursor moved on its own, clicking Withdraw.

Police ruled it as a “sudden cardiac arrest due to shock.” The neighbours said it was “death by joy.” But that night, something strange happened.

Her account kept playing.

Spins, bets, jackpots all in her name. The winnings multiplied. Her balance soared beyond comprehension.

And then people began to whisper:
If you log into Stake.com on Halloween night at exactly midnight, sometimes you’ll see her username LenaSmiles spinning endlessly.
If you click to watch her game, you’ll hear faint laughter behind your speakers. And if you’re unlucky enough… she might invite you to play “one last spin” with her.

They say whoever accepts never logs out again.

And if you ever see a girl in a faded hoodie, smiling too wide under the flicker of your monitor light
Don’t smile back.

Because her smile… never faded.

Stake ID: Nvif

[CheezWhizzz]

The old cemetery sat on a hill, overlooking the town. Its wrought-iron gates, perpetually ajar, groaned in the October wind. Locals whispered tales of the "Whispering Stones," gravestones said to hum with the voices of the departed on Halloween night. Young Lily, dared by her friends, decided to investigate.

As dusk settled, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges, Lily slipped through the gates. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Shadows danced between the silent markers, transforming familiar shapes into grotesque figures. She found the Whispering Stones, a cluster of ancient, moss-covered monuments.

A faint hum began, not from the stones, but from the air itself. It grew, a chorus of faint, ethereal whispers that seemed to coil around her. They spoke of forgotten names, of long-lost loves, of silent sorrows. It wasn't terrifying, but profoundly melancholic. As the moon rose, a ghostly mist drifted through the graves. A figure emerged, translucent and shimmering, a woman in a tattered gown. She smiled, a sad, knowing smile, and then, like a wisp of smoke, vanished into the mist.

Lily, shivering but unharmed, turned and ran. She hadn't found a monster, but something far more chilling: the echoes of lives once lived, still lingering in the hallowed ground. The cemetery wasn't just a place of death; it was a museum of memories, forever whispering its tales to those brave enough to listen.

.

CheezWhizzz

[Eitri]

stake id - Eitri

 

Story:

On Halloween night, the Silver Ace Casino glowed brighter than ever, though half its bulbs had burned out decades ago. At midnight, a new table appeared near the bar — Table 13 — velvet green, candles flickering though no flame burned.

Lena, broke and reckless, sat down. A dealer in a black suit greeted her without blinking. “One hand,” he said. “Win your fortune. Lose… your reflection.”

She laughed, tossed her last chip in, and played. The cards moved on their own. She won — a royal flush. Cheers erupted around her, but when she turned toward the mirror behind the bar, her reflection was gone.

Now, every Halloween, the Silver Ace hosts a woman-shaped shadow at Table 13.
She never leaves, never speaks — but her cards always show a royal flush.

[amniasti]

Username: Amniasti

[Yazmin077]

La dama de blanco

Es una leyenda urbana parecida a la anterior, y también está extendida por todo el mundo. En ella, una mujer vestida de blanco aparece durante un breve periodo de tiempo en alguna zona rural. Su historia suele estar relacionada con alguna tragedia de carácter local. Son mujeres que han perdido a hijos, maridos o han sido víctimas de una traición y su espíritu vaga sin descanso clamando venganza.

En el medievo, cuando esta fantasmagórica figura aparecía significaba que alguien cercano, de la familia o del vecindario, iba a morir. En la tradición inglesa, la Dama de Blanco custodiaba un tesoro, pero murió repentinamente, antes de que pudiera revelarle a nadie dónde se hallaba escondido. Cuentan que en el siglo XIX la dama blanca se apareció hasta tres veces al hijo de los dueños del castillo de Blenkinsopp en Northumbria, pero es cierto que en esa parte de Inglaterra todos los castillos tienen sus leyendas de fantasmas. La dama Blanca en Gales también guarda un tesoro. Cuando un hombre tuvo el valor de acercarse a ella, le recompensó con la mitad. En su avaricia, él se lo llevó todo, pero la Dama de Blanco reaccionó, y con sus poderes sobrenaturales, mató al codicioso abusón. 

En la capital madrileña también hay una dama de blanco que, noctámbula y sin asomo de vértigo, se pasea de noche por el techo de la casa de las Siete Chimeneas en la Plaza del Rey. Se trata de Elena, hija de un montero de Felipe II y supuesta amante del rey que pereció en extrañas circunstancias y que, según varios testigos, sigue deambulando por la villa y corte. Pero por las alturas.

[Nonikunyu]

The Lantern Man

Every year, when the last leaf fell from the old oak by the crossroads, the people of Briar Hollow lit their porch lanterns. It wasn’t just for decoration—it was a warning.

Because that’s when the Lantern Man walked.

He wasn’t quite a ghost and not quite alive. Folks said he was once a farmer who’d struck a deal with something ancient buried beneath his pumpkin field. One Halloween night, desperate for a good harvest, he whispered his wish into the soil—and the soil whispered back. The next morning, his pumpkins grew monstrously large, their orange skins veined with black. But when he carved the first one open, it bled.

Now, every year on Halloween, the Lantern Man wanders the back roads of Briar Hollow, his head a burning pumpkin carved into a twisted grin. His lantern—made from the first cursed pumpkin—never goes out. It burns with a cold, green flame that smells like damp earth and regret.

If you see him, you’re not supposed to run. You’re supposed to light your own lantern and place it by the road. That’s the trade. Your light for your life. If your lantern stays lit till dawn, he’ll pass you by.

But if it flickers out… he takes your flame instead.

They say he walks the fields even now, his lanterns growing brighter every year—one for every soul who failed to keep their light alive. And if you listen on a windless night, you can hear him calling softly from the dark:

“Who will light the way… for me?”

Username : Nonikunyu

[xalplox]

Coming home late to find my wife already asleep, I climbed into bed, wrapped my arms around her, and held her close.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw her tear-streaked face through the cracked closet door, mouthing for me to run.

id xalplox

[kjraidse32]

Title: “House Edge”

Halloween night.
The street was dead quiet — no kids, no music, not even the hum of power lines. Just the wind, low and restless, like it was waiting for something to happen.

I was closing up for the night when I saw it — a black pumpkin sitting at the end of the driveway. No reflection. No candle inside. But the carved “S” on its face glowed faint blue, pulsing slow, steady, like a heartbeat.

There was a note stuck to the stem.
No name. Just four words:

“Play once. Win forever.”

I laughed, because that’s what you do when something feels wrong but you don’t want to admit it. Still, I took the bait. The lid slid off smooth, like metal against glass. Inside — no seeds, no pulp. Just a stack of poker chips, all marked with the Stake logo.

The air changed. Everything felt heavier — not like a storm, more like gravity had tripled just for me. Then I heard it: the faint rattle of dice from somewhere inside the dark.

A voice followed — soft, confident, with that tone dealers use when they already know the odds.
“Your soul for a wish. Double or nothing?”

I don’t remember saying yes. I only remember the blue light bleeding out of the pumpkin, spilling across the ground like liquid neon. My reflection in it smiled back — but it wasn’t me.

Then I blinked — and I was sitting at a table. Cards in hand. A faceless dealer opposite me, eyes burning through the dark like two blue embers. The room stretched on forever — rows of tables, all occupied by shadows, all gambling with the same quiet desperation.

The dealer slid the pot forward.
“One hand. House edge applies.”

I don’t remember the draw. I don’t remember losing.
But I remember waking up in my driveway, the chips scattered like teeth on the pavement — and the pumpkin gone.

Now, every Halloween, I see that blue glow flicker somewhere down the street.
Someone else has found their pumpkin.
And every year, the house edge gets smaller.

Soon enough… it’ll be even. 🖤🎲

 

Stake.com ID: kjraidse32

[Need5k]

One night i was sleeping alone at our old house near the woods. Suddenly at 3am i woke up. I was looking at the table clock to check the time. find out some thing is staring at me outside the dark window. then i call my mom and they came and rescue me from that house.

ID: Need5k

[Oddzxc]

.

The Specter of Aethel

The metropolis of Aethel was a cathedral of neon and noise, but on the night of Halloween, it became a tapestry of deliberate dread. Vex, the city�s resident Grim Reaper, was not here for an assignment; the ledger for this single night's expired souls would have overloaded an entire server farm. He was here to simply observe.

He stood upon the jagged cornice of the Old Municipal Tower, his silhouette a sheer absence of light against the smog-smudged moon. Below him, the streets pulsed with costumed life. Witches shared take-out, Frankenstein�s monsters argued over parking, and miniature Spider-Men chased plastic pumpkins. Vex leaned on his massive scythe, its obsidian blade reflecting the dizzying, electric pulse of the city. He saw the genuine attempts at terror, the deliberate, joyful embrace of fear.

Then, a tiny figure broke away from the crowd�a child, no more than six, swallowed by a faded white ghost sheet. Clutching a bulging orange candy bucket, the child looked up at the gothic tower and mistook the seven-foot-tall, antler-crowned harbinger of mortality for a surprisingly dedicated cosplayer.

The small figure scampered up the three broken steps to the tower�s entrance, holding out a fun-sized chocolate bar. �Cool costume, mister!� she squeaked, her voice barely a whisper against the traffic's roar. �Happy Halloween!�

Vex, Death Incarnate, paused. He had received many offerings over the millennia�grief, fear, bargains, and desperate prayers�but never a treat. His bony fingers, colder than a winter tomb, gently took the wrapper. The child beamed, delighted by the interaction, and skipped back to her parents.

A flicker, a slight change in the air pressure, passed over the space beneath Vex's hood. It wasn�t the terror he usually inspired, but the simple joy of the living, briefly confronting a perfect image of death and offering it something sweet, that defined the season.

He dissolved, not into the shadows, but into the swirling mist above the gothic rooftops, the tiny chocolate bar the only sign he had been there at all. The city kept celebrating, unaware its most important, and most unexpected, guest of honor had just departed.

Id: Oddzxc

[Kecoucestmoi]

The old farmhouse stood empty for years, a skeletal landmark at the end of a long dirt road. Locals swore the air around it felt cold, no matter the season. One crisp autumn night, drawn by a foolish dare, a young man named James pushed open its sagging front door.

Inside, dust motes danced in the moonlight that pierced the grime-caked windows. The air was heavy with the scent of mildew and decay. He climbed the creaking staircase to the second floor, each step a groan of protest against his weight. He stopped outside the master bedroom, where the air was noticeably colder.

A child’s rocking horse sat in the corner, motionless. James scoffed at his rising fear, stepping into the room. A faint, almost inaudible hum began, growing in intensity. It wasn't electricity, but the sound of tiny voices, chanting a nursery rhyme he didn't recognize.

Suddenly, the rocking horse began to move. Not a gentle sway, but a violent, rhythmic rocking that mirrored the rising tempo of the whispers. The shadows in the corners seemed to deepen and writhe. A porcelain doll on the dusty dresser turned its head slowly, its glass eyes locking onto James.

He stumbled back, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The chanting stopped abruptly. A cold hand clamped over his mouth, and a voice, dry as dead leaves, whispered directly into his ear, "You shouldn't have come."

He never made it down the stairs. Only the rocking horse kept moving, under the light of the pale moon, until the first gray light of dawn.

Stake ID: kecoucestmoi

[jokua]

Lucía se mudó sola a un viejo departamento del centro. Era amplio, barato… y tenía un enorme espejo empotrado frente a la cama. El dueño le advirtió que no lo moviera: “Está ahí desde siempre”, dijo, sonriendo raro.

Las primeras noches no pasó nada. Pero un jueves, al despertar a las tres de la mañana, notó algo extraño: su reflejo no se movía. Ella se incorporó… y el reflejo seguía acostado, con los ojos abiertos.

Trató de convencerse de que era un sueño. Se acercó al espejo. Su reflejo lentamente se sentó, pero no al mismo tiempo que ella. Sonreía de una forma que Lucía nunca haría. Entonces el teléfono vibró: una notificación de video. Era una grabación en vivo, desde su propia cámara frontal. En la pantalla, se veía a sí misma durmiendo, y detrás, una figura de pie… frente al espejo.

Lucía giró, temblando.
El reflejo levantó la mano antes que ella, la apoyó sobre el vidrio, y desde el otro lado golpeó tres veces, tan fuerte que el espejo se rajó.
Por la grieta, algo negro empezó a salir, arrastrándose hacia la habitación.
Lucía no gritó.
Solo alcanzó a ver cómo su reflejo cruzaba al otro lado y se acohttps://stake-forum.s3.eu-west-2.amazonaws.com/monthly_2025_11/image.png.2ec387e81b1677e96c71cc7e98e709bf.pngstaba en su cama.
Y al amanecer, cuando el sol entró por la ventana, solo el reflejo respiraba.

ID de stake: Jokua

[sreesanthvsdd]

Stake ID: Sreesanthvsdd

 

Halloween night. 11:59 PM.

Arjun’s phone buzzed — a message from an unknown number:

 

“You forgot to say goodbye.”

 

He froze. That was the same message Rhea sent him a year ago… right before she died in a car crash on Halloween night.

 

He tried to laugh it off, but his screen flickered. Her old chat — deleted months ago — suddenly reopened. The typing dots appeared.

 

“I’m still waiting.”

 

A chill ran through him. The lights went out. In the reflection of his phone screen, another face appeared — pale, silent, smiling.

 

“Rhea?” he whispered.

 

A cold hand touched his shoulder.

“Thanks for remembering,” she said softly.

 

The next morning, his phone was found glowing beside his bed.

One unread message.

 

“See you next Halloween.”