Read Aloud Halloween Stories Novels & Stories

I remember when I was in the sorcerer's house in the night almost get carried away by the ghost in the night of Tortuga, I remember when I and my friends where having a nice and enjoyable Halloween Night party with our costumes before the arrival of the Black cults. I remember my parents and started crying...I started weeping but... couldn't weep out as there is no one to be of my aid here instead I would even get into more danger my giving a sound to show that am downstairs to anyone close to where is am. I feel lost, tired, weak as I haven't eaten for three days and the last thing I ate was a fruit, Apple I guess. As I was down depressed, weeping and thinking about my life, I hear a sound

And on moonlit nights, when the wind carried whispers through the trees, the children would huddle close to their parents, grateful for the lessons learned from the chilling tale. And so, dear children, remember the story of 'The Whispering Shadows' when the moon is high and the wind carries secrets on its breath. For even the naughtiest of children may find themselves facing the eerie dance of shadows in the depths of the forest, a fate they can only escape by heeding the warnings of those who came before.

Shelia had to hand it to those old-timer nurses; they’d seen and done everything, and almost nothing fazed them. “Our resident Rip Van Winkle,” Belinda said as she went around to the other side of the bed. Shelia frowned. “Who? Is that the guy in that Halloween story about the horseman with a jack-o’lantern head?” “Never mind,” Belinda said as she shut off the feeding pump, lowered the head of the bed then raised the mattress up so they wouldn’t have to crouch down to change him.

The host chuckled, masking a hint of envy in her voice. "Welcome to 81.9 GistFM, I'm Aaaa-manda, and we're ready to delve into something spooky today. Though Halloween isn't here yet, we'll be discussing the supernatural, including Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, and even Witches. If young ones are tuned in, you might want to switch off the radio. But first, let's get down to business - do you believe in these supernatural entities? Miranda halted.

Gabby froze. The front door opened, and Gabby's neighbor of nineteen years, Mike Willison stood before him, holding a plastic mixing bowl full of chocolate candy bars. Gabby made her move. "Trick or Treat!" Gabby shouted, opening her cloak. Mike Willison's eyes went wide at the sight of the naked female body before him. His jaw dropped, and he found himself at a loss of what to say. Gabby giggled, and shut her cloak. "Happy Halloween!" Gabby shouted, and ran off down the driveway back to the street.

Tonight, as usual, was full of a lot more fun than usual. Boys who didn't have to go to the evening class were excited and cheering loudly in the dark, almost like werewolves howling all the time when the moon is full. Outside, the wind was very strong, and lightning and thunder were going off. In this kind of situation, it makes sense to tell ghost stories. The four men went to bed and took turns telling each other stories. They purposely lowered their voices so that they could barely be heard in the dark, which caused even more worry and tension. When they heard this, it was only natural for their heads to feel numb.

I switch off the lights for extra measure. “So this happened when my mom was 17 years old. One day, she and four of her friends were having a sleepover when they decided to tell ghost stories. So, my mom was narrating a story about a doll that is a medium for dead spirits. People would often call their dead relatives and talk to them. And if you want to call the doll, you have to hold hands and chant, ‘Suzie, please come,’ three times. People named the doll Suzie,” I speed dial, Reed.

* DISASTROUS WORK: REAL DIARY The road was free from travelers and wretched men who had come down to watch the parade before dawn. It was a day before Halloween, and most of the men and women who lived in Brown Town had taken turns to set up a lively platform where they could display their evil masterpieces without having to face condemnation.

When Emmet answered that his favourite colour was now red, Jasper admitted that his own was now blue. When Emmet had given Halloween as his favourite holiday, explaining to Jasper that it was when people placed decorations of pumpkins and bats outside their homes and give costumed children sweets when they approach and that it was a celebration of death and all the spooky things in the shadows, the spirits of people long dead finally returning to their families, and the oncoming harshness of winter.

I was the girl who poured their drinks, cleaned up their crumbs, stood off to the side with my head low. But I listened. Every night, I listened. And my favorite stories—the ones that sent chills down my spine—were about the rogues. Greywin would say, “They don’t walk like us. They stalk. They don’t breathe like us. They sniff, they growl. And when you hear a branch break in the middle of the forest, child, don’t run… they already know where you are.” I remembered the way the girls would huddle closer, giggling but scared. But I wasn’t giggling. I was barely breathing. I always held my tray tighter and leaned closer to hear more.