halloween

Get into the Halloween spirit; all about trick or treating, spooky costumes, Halloween decorations and haunted houses for October 31st and all year round.

Shadow Man
Once night falls, a shadow man comes out of the jungle. At first, Manaf laughed it off. Typical rural folklore meant to spread fear, he thought. But when he saw the fear in the eyes of an elderly villager, Fazlu Chacha, the intrigue crept into his blood.
By Radia Moniabout a year ago in Horror
The Reflection
"The Reflection" Mira had never liked mirrors. Even as a child, she felt something watching her from the other side. When she moved into her new apartment, she avoided the antique mirror nailed to the bathroom wall. The frame was ornate—carved with twisting vines and snarling faces—but the glass was warped, as if something beneath the surface rippled.
By Index MAFIabout a year ago in Horror
Call of the Shadow!!
outside the bustling city of Dhaka lies an old village called Baulbari—a place shrouded in silence, mystery, and whispers of the dead. Locals still speak in hushed tones about the haunting tale that unfolded there decades ago.
By bd writerabout a year ago in Horror
The Hollow Girl’s New Skin: A True Haunting at Blackvale Orphanage
Season 2 ______________________________________________ PROLOGUE: THE TRANSFER Blackvale Orphanage - December 21, 1986 The children's choir should have stopped when the screaming began.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
The Love ❤
It was a late summer evening when Claire first met Eli, though neither of them knew it would be the start of something that would change their lives forever. Claire was sitting at the corner table in her favorite coffee shop, a spot she had claimed as her own for the past two years. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, the gentle clinking of cups, and the faint scent of freshly ground coffee beans. She was lost in a book, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her mug, when the door chimed, signaling someone’s arrival. Eli stepped inside, his gaze scanning the room as he shook the rain from his jacket. He hesitated at the counter, unsure of what to order. His presence, though unremarkable in a crowd, had a certain quiet intensity that caught Claire’s attention. She glanced up over the edge of her book and noticed his hesitation, the way he lingered, as though trying to fit himself into the rhythm of the room. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she felt a pull to him, like a thread tugging at her heart. Maybe it was the way he wore his uncertainty so naturally, or how the world around him seemed to quieten whenever he entered a space. After a moment of contemplation, Claire stood and walked to the counter, her coffee in hand. “You look like you’re about to solve a great mystery,” she said with a smile, trying to make light of the situation. Eli blinked, momentarily startled, then chuckled. “I guess I am,” he replied. “I’m trying to figure out whether the latte or the cappuccino will make me feel more human.” Claire grinned. “You’re in the right place for questions like that. The cappuccino is more serious, but the latte is easier to love.” A moment of quiet passed between them, the soft hum of the shop wrapping around their conversation. Eli seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening, and his eyes brightened. “I’ll take the latte then,” he said. “I think I need something easy to love today.” As she paid for his drink and handed it over, something shifted between them. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but there was a spark—subtle, unspoken, yet undeniably there. Claire didn’t quite know what it was, but she felt it. The next few weeks were a blur of coffee shop encounters—each time Eli seemed to appear just when Claire needed a break from the ordinary. Their conversations began to drift from casual exchanges about coffee to deeper musings about life, art, and the way time seemed to pass without us noticing. They shared stories about their childhoods, their favorite books, and the dreams they were too afraid to speak aloud. Each conversation left them both feeling a little more understood, a little more seen. One afternoon, as autumn’s chill began to bite at the air, Eli appeared at the coffee shop with something different in his eyes—something more certain. He slid into the chair across from Claire, his fingers curling around his cup as he smiled gently. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “We’ve talked about everything under the sun, and I keep wondering… When was the moment I knew?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Knew what?” “That you were someone I’d want to keep in my life,” he said softly. “That this, whatever this is, was real.” Claire’s heart skipped a beat, the words settling into her chest with a warmth she hadn’t expected. She placed her cup down, looking at him with a mix of surprise and understanding. “I think,” she began slowly, “it’s the quiet moments that tell you what words can’t.” Eli nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. The air around them felt thicker now, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. And in that moment, everything did. Without a grand gesture, without any dramatic proclamations, they both understood what had quietly been blooming between them. Love wasn’t always loud; sometimes, it was the gentle rhythm of two hearts finding their way to one another, piece by piece, day by day. As the evening wore on and the coffee shop emptied, Claire and Eli remained at their table, talking, laughing, and sharing the kind of silence that felt like home. In a world filled with noise, they had found something simple and real. A quiet love that, over time, would grow stronger, deeper, and more certain—just like the quiet rhythm of their hearts. Click here for more.
By Mr. nuRabout a year ago in Horror
The Haunted House and the Ghost Who Wasn’t
After an argument with my wife in the evening, I stormed out of the house. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s the same old rant—"My life is ruined because of you. I turned down so many good proposals, only to end up with a useless fool like you!"
By Azadul islam Sagorabout a year ago in Horror
The Haunted Girl in the Shadows
It was a cool autumn evening when Clara decided to visit the old house on the hill. The wind howled through the trees, and the streets were eerily quiet. No one lived in that house anymore; the locals avoided it, whispering about its cursed past. But Clara, always the curious one, couldn’t resist.
By Big Zeroabout a year ago in Horror
The Death's bargain
The first time Samuel Voss saw Death, he was seven years old. It happened on a cold winter evening when the wind howled through the cracks of his family’s farmhouse. His mother was coughing blood into a handkerchief, her skin as pale as the snow outside. The doctor had left hours ago, shaking his head, muttering about consumption and the inevitability of things.
By I want Peace 🕊️about a year ago in Horror
THE HOLLOW GIRL OF BLACKVALE ORPHANAGE
Season 1.. CHAPTER 1: THE SILENCE THAT GREETS YOU Eli, arrives at Blackvale Orphanage for a summer caretaker job. The building is eerily silent.. no creaks, no echoes, as if the walls absorb sound.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
The Inconspicuous Inhabitant: A Frequenting on the Banks of the Buriganga
The Buriganga Waterway, cutting through the heart of Ancient Dhaka, holds more than fair history in its profundities. Along its banks, stories linger—dark, whispered stories that unsettle indeed the elderly who have lived there all their lives. They do not talk of these stories straightforwardly, but in the event that you inquire them to sit by the stream at nightfall, they'll unobtrusively decay.
By Rakibul Hasan Hridoyabout a year ago in Horror
"The Haunted House of Silence: A True Tale or Terrifying Myth?"
Throughout human history, the unknown has always stirred our deepest fears and curiosities. Ghosts, spirits, and the afterlife—these concepts both terrify and intrigue us. Today, I’ll take you into the story of a house shrouded in whispers and mystery, known by locals as “the haunted house.” But the question remains: is it just folklore, or does something truly supernatural dwell within its walls?
By bd writerabout a year ago in Horror
A scary ghost story p [2]
He started to say again that the scandal was shocked. I have been up to class two. In the clutches gap, I got a burden on the talentepool. I stopped him and asked him to class two and how did the class five and how did the scholarship in Talentpool? He replied that he was screaming in the wreckage of the monsters, and the monsters were swept away in the wreckage. In the menstruation, Ulto Din dipped the cloak and wandered into it. I brought annoyance in the voice and said all the non -profit rules. The source said, "Don't bother, that's it." The drawers are cracked. Kanaran Pranimari, Hysensus Tum Idhaj. The twilight is on the lid, the monsters. In the wake of the lamp, the jerk is compulsory in the jerk. The vintage of it is shaking. I couldn't say anything to his argument anymore. If I asked, why did you quit falling up to class two? If you passed Class One, you would have been completely complete. He then said that he was a bolt. Tammiti, the climber, I was hungry, and then I was worried about the cheeks of the cheeks. Survive snakes to survive. The panty hunger is the nanam of the hobby. After that, I wandered down to Tami Chinhara. So far he says he is silent again. What happened to I asked? Then? After a few seconds, he said that I had wandered into the throat of the ninjar, and I wandered into the shame. I said to myself the ghost again. I just said in the face what the story? The festival started to say again, I started to know Chelanha. He did not swim in the festival. Tima Nawa Khana, Parashuna Sanab Ghanala, who is lagging. In the meantime, I wrote the knot "Dhika toe, and wrote the knot" Kanta "and gave it to Chenha. Chinhaha khana khota khota karuta. Where did I get the jigsao? Tumi is a hurry. The mint is the only one. It was a shaft that the bone stood up. Chhennaha shouted that if the tummy tired of the mango samaj, he would swallow him and then he would swallow him. After that, I took the fold of the shit, and I walked down the janagar. But Kon Kon Manusha Duma did not wander. Sanbai ran towards the ulto, with a ghost, and a hurry to the nipples. I said why do you introduce your ghost to all? If you wish, you could introduce people to the form of people by taking the song from someone. The festival answered him. I could also get a lot of things to do with those who were drawing on the mood. But the scandal is a shit. Tomi Kauke is covered with a bolt. I squeezed the mourning of the misery of the mango, and I squeezed it to the pod. It is now the frying of the tip. That is why the festival began to laugh.
By Arfan Raihenabout a year ago in Horror