Spooky tales

On Halloween night, the forest bathed in the light of the full moon, casting shadows over the small town. The air was crisp and heavy, saturated with the howling of the banshees echoing through the streets. Inside a modest home, Rosemary and her siblings gathered in the living room, attempting to drown out the wails with card games and chess. The howling wailed like a haunting melody outside, but they laughed, shrugging it off as just another Halloween scare.

Rosemary, feeling the weariness creep into her bones, decided to curl up on the couch while her siblings watched TV. As the flickering screen cast dim light around the room, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, the howls fading into the background.

Suddenly, she was jolted awake by a persistent tapping sound. The protective candles they had lit flickered and died, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. A chill ran down her spine as the tapping grew louder, echoing against the glass panes of the window. She refused to look behind her, knowing she needed to act fast. With a racing heart, she darted to the drawer where they kept the lighters, her hands shaking as she fumbled through the clutter.

Finally, she found a lighter and lit a fresh candle, holding it close as she turned to face the window. The tapping had stopped, but the unsettling feeling in the air grew thicker, wrapping around her like a cold embrace. Peering out into the darkness, she saw nothing but shadows.

Just as she let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, a shadow shifted behind her. She spun around and shrieked, heart racing. It was her little brother, eyes wide and flinching in fright.

“Rosemary? Did you see them?” he asked, his voice trembling, darting around the room as if expecting a ghost to jump out.

“No, you just startled me, that’s all,” she said, relief flooding her.

“I wanted to ask if we can watch a new movie,” he said, his innocence a stark contrast to the dread in the air.

“Of course! I’ll help with that” Rosemary replied, grateful for the distraction.

As she walked away, her gaze briefly caught the window again. The candlelight flickered, nothing was there still,

Rosemary shifted her attentions elsewhere and behind her a face was staring at her—disfigured, with eyes glowing an unnatural way radiating predatory hunger. It blinked, and the apparition vanished, leaving only darkness behind.

Rosemary turned to her brother, who was now rifling through the collection of DVDs. “Which one do you want to watch?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.

But the tapping returned, more insistent now, echoing against the window like a desperate plea. Rosemary’s heart raced as she glanced back at the window. The tapping was now accompanied by a soft, haunting melody, a lullaby woven from despair and sorrow.

“hurry,” she urged, taking her brother’s hand and leading him to the living room table. They sat together, the flickering candle between them offering a fragile shield against the encroaching darkness.

But the banshees were cunning. They whispered through the walls, their voices echoed with promises and threats, beckoning them to open the door. Rosemary’s resolve hardened. She knew that if she let them in, their fate would be sealed.

With every creak of the house, every wail of the wind, her fear mounted. The howling grew louder outside, a chaotic symphony of despair, mingling with the tapping at the window, relentless and taunting.

“Rosemary?” her brother said, his voice small and shaky. “What if they get in?”

“Just keep quiet and don’t look at them” she replied, her grip tightening around the candle. The flickering flame seemed to mirror her unease, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The only light came from the solitary candle, illuminating their faces as they clung to each other, hearts pounding in synchrony.

Outside, the banshees wailed in a frenzy, their cries a chorus of anguish and rage, echoing against the very fabric of the night. Rosemary held her breath, listening as the tapping intensified. It was a rhythmic pattern, almost like a heartbeat—a warning that something was near.

The tapping turned into scratching, clawing at the wood, as if something was trying to break in.

Then, without warning, the door rattled violently, and Rosemary felt a rush of icy air sweep through the room. The candle flickered wildly, casting monstrous shadows on the walls, twisting and turning in grotesque forms. She could feel the presence behind her again, the weight of unseen eyes watching, waiting.

In that moment, she realized the banshees weren’t just outside—they were all around them, seeking to breach the fragile barrier of light and warmth. Their whispers filled the air, promising release and temptation, each note laced with a hunger that made her skin crawl.

“Rosemary!” her brother cried, pressing closer to her, eyes darting to the door as it rattled again.

“Stay quiet, “ she shouted, raising the candle high, willing the light to fend off the darkness. “We won’t let them in!”

”Give us your soul” Was whispered, Rosemary shoved the candle toward the window, illuminating the ghastly visage before her. It recoiled, but she could feel its presence pressing closer, a dark fog that seemed to seep into the very walls of the house.

“Don’t look” she urged her brother, and he obeyed, trembling against her side. With the candle as her only defense, she faced the darkness, refusing to let it take them.

The flickering candle burned on, a fragile defense against the encroaching shadows, as Rosemary whispered a silent prayer for their survival.

When the rooms temperature went back to normal Rosemary darted towards the room where her siblings were, she could heard them sob as they hid under the table.

“It’s us” Rosemary said holding her brothers hand tightly.

“Please come out, we are safe here” Rosemary said and they held each other. Rosemary eyed the candles, as long as they remain on the Banshees will be kept at bay.

”Stay strong” Rosemary said to herself as the sprits are becoming restless.