It was a chilly October evening, and the moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the sleepy town of Ridgewood. The air carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires, but the quiet streets seemed eerily deserted. It was the perfect setting for a prank—at least, that’s what Jake and his friends thought.
Jake, Sam, and Mia were high school seniors with a reputation for pulling pranks, especially during Halloween season. This year, they had their sights set on the old Baxter house at the edge of town. The house was infamous for its crumbling walls, broken windows, and the legend of the “Whispering Ghost,” a spirit said to haunt the place after midnight.
“That house is just a pile of bricks and bad stories,” Jake said, rolling his eyes as they stood outside the iron gate. “Let’s give the neighborhood something real to be scared of.”
Their plan was simple: dress Sam up as a ghost—complete with a torn sheet, fake chains, and glow-in-the-dark paint—and scare anyone foolish enough to walk by. Jake and Mia would hide nearby with a camera, ready to catch the reactions. They laughed as they imagined the terrified faces of their victims.
By 11:30 p.m., they were set. Sam shuffled into the yard, draped in his ghostly attire, while Jake and Mia crouched behind a row of bushes. The wind picked up, rustling the dead trees and making the house groan as if it were alive.
“Perfect atmosphere,” Mia whispered, grinning as she adjusted the camera.
For the first half hour, no one came. The streets were too quiet, the night too cold. Jake was beginning to get bored when they heard footsteps crunching on the gravel road. A group of teenagers approached, laughing and talking loudly.
“Showtime,” Jake muttered, nudging Mia.
Sam stepped into the moonlight, dragging the fake chains behind him and wailing like a tortured soul. “Leeeaaave this plaaace!” he moaned, his voice echoing through the still night.
The group of teens froze, their laughter replaced by nervous whispers. One of them turned to run, but the others stood their ground, squinting at the figure. “Is that… a person?” one asked, stepping closer.
Sam moved toward them, his movements jerky and unnatural, just as they’d rehearsed. The glow-in-the-dark paint made his face appear ghastly under the moonlight. The teens screamed and scattered in different directions, their shouts fading into the distance.
Jake and Mia doubled over with laughter, high-fiving each other. “Did you see their faces?” Jake gasped.
But their celebration was cut short when Sam suddenly stopped moving. He stood frozen in the middle of the yard, staring at something they couldn’t see.
“Sam?” Mia called out, her laughter fading. “What’s wrong?”
Sam didn’t respond. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the second-floor window of the Baxter house. Jake and Mia followed his gaze, their eyes widening as they saw it: a shadowy figure standing in the window. It was tall and thin, with glowing eyes that seemed to burn through the darkness.
“That’s not funny, Sam,” Jake said, his voice shaking.
“I’m not doing anything,” Sam whispered, his voice barely audible.
Before they could react, the figure in the window moved—fast. It vanished from the second floor, and within moments, the front door of the house creaked open with an agonizing groan. A cold gust of wind rushed out, carrying with it a low, guttural whisper that none of them could understand.
“Run,” Mia breathed.
They didn’t need to be told twice. Jake, Mia, and Sam bolted out of the yard, leaving the fake chains and camera behind. As they reached the safety of the main road, they turned back, hearts pounding. The house was silent, the yard empty.
But in the window, the glowing eyes were still there, watching them.
None of them ever spoke of the prank again, and the Baxter house remained as it always had—silent, dark, and full of whispers.
