This year, three friends dared each other to knock. The door creaked open before they touched it. Inside, the lantern flickered, casting long shadows that twitched like they had minds of their own.
A cold voice whispered, “You shouldn’t have
come.”
The lantern’s flame stretched upward, forming a tall, crooked figure with hollow eyes. The shadows crawled toward the kids, wrapping around their ankles like icy vines.
It was something that should never exist!
They ran, but the lantern’s glow followed them all the way home.
They escaped the house, but not the lantern. That night, each child found a tiny lantern on their pillow—its flame already burning.
