(c) 2026 VocalKidFolk314 [1] Fog drifts across the crooked street, lanterns flicker in the cold. Three little ghosts step forward, clutching empty candy bowls. The wind hums like a warning, but their laughter cuts right through— Tonight’s the night for magic… and maybe something new. [2] They skip along the sidewalk with their sheets of snowy white, their giggles bouncing softly in the velvet Halloween night. The house ahead looks spooky, but the promise feels so sweet— a treasure trove of candy at the end of this old street. [3] Trick or treat, the night is young, ghosts at play where shadows run. Every step a spark of fun— Halloween has just begun. [4] But as they near the porch, the laughter slowly fades, the windows seem to watch them through the dusty, broken shades. A whisper curls around them like a breath behind their ears— the kind that chills your bones and feeds your tiny fears. [5] The door swings open gently though no hand is on the frame, a smell of ancient timber and of something hard to name. The hallway yawns before them like a throat about to speak— and every step they take inside feels colder, more antique. [6] The wallpaper starts breathing, the ceiling starts to bend, the shadows stretch like fingers reaching out to make a friend. The children clutch each other as the hallway twists around— the house is waking up… and it likes the guests it’s found. [7] A rocking chair is moving though the floorboards stay still, a lullaby is humming with a voice that chills the will. The melody is sweet but wrong, like sugar laced with rust— a cradle made of cobwebs sways itself into the dust. [8] A portrait on the staircase turns its eyes to watch them climb, its painted smile grows wider, stretching past the frame of time. The children freeze in terror as the canvas starts to grin— inviting them politely to please, please step within. [9] The floor begins to rumble like a beast beneath the planks, the doors slam shut behind them with resounding, hollow clanks. A chorus of soft giggles echoes from the attic beams— the kind you only hear inside the darkest childhood dreams. [10] What is happening here tonight? What secrets hide beyond our sight? The walls are whispering with fright— the house is waking, hungry, bright. What is happening here, oh why? The truth is crawling from the sky. A final scream, a last goodbye— and everything turns only pain. [11] But then the dawn breaks gently, painting gold across the floor, the shadows shrink to nothing, and the house begins to snore. The children stumble out again, their sheets all torn and gray— alive, amazed, and trembling at the coming of the day. [12] The sunlight fades behind them as they run back into town… but deep inside the house, a voice says softly, “Next year… I’ll be waiting.” And the door creaks closed with a grin.
