Halloween Stories - Funny Jokes

Funny Halloween Graveyard Stories

What kind of streets do zombies like to haunt the best? Dead-end streets.

Strange Goings On in the Portchester Graveyard

Roger Letzer was visiting the cemetery near Portchester Castle in England and he couldn’t help noticing a man kneeling in front of a gravestone,
clasping his hands and sobbing. Roger went a bit closer and could hear what the man was saying. ‘Why did you have to die?’ he was repeating,
‘Why did you have to die?’

Feeling he ought to do something to alleviate the man’s obvious distress Roger laid his hand on his shoulder saying gently, ‘Was it someone you loved very much?’

The man looked up at him and said, ‘No, I never met him, he was my wife’s first husband.’

A True, Graveyard Spooky Story from Southend, Essex

A cemetery has been hit by a plague of web-spinning caterpillars. Parts of Sutton Cemetery, in Sutton Road, Southend, Essex, England, resembled a set from a horror film with the silk-like thread draped over trees, plants, and gravestones.

The transformation is the handiwork of bird cherry ermine moth caterpillars who have spun a huge nest. The bugs are known as webworms and
at the caterpillar stage, weave the leaves of trees together and eat them from their nests.

Natural History Curator at Southend Museum, Mr Roger Payne, confirmed to Will and Guy that the caterpillars will emerge as moths next month. He said, ‘They have good years and bad years and this is a good one. Because they are on the ground, it seems that they are so abundant they are starving and have fallen from the trees to search for food. When fully grown, the moths will be white with five rows of black dots.

Council staff confirmed that they have no plans to get rid of the phenomenon.

More Spooky Happenings in the Cemetery

Can You See the Ethereal Girl in the Photo?

Will and Guy have found this infrared photograph that was taken by Jude Huff-Felz during a parapsychological investigation by the Ghost Research Society in Bachelor’s Grove Cemetery, Chicago, Illinois, USA on August 10, 1991.

We are unable to ascertain its veracity, although some experts believe it to be true.

More Funny, Strange, Quirky Halloween Tales and Jokes

Hide and Seek – A Creepy and Frightening Story
A Young Bride Who Goes Missing Before Her Honeymoon.

A young couple got married and, after the wedding, they held a reception in the bride’s grandmother’s house. All their family and friends arrived and they laughed, danced, and sang, long into the night.

After the wedding reception, the guests decided to play a game of hide and seek. The groom covered his eyes and began counting to a hundred while his new bride and the other guests ran out of the room, looking for somewhere to hide.

Eventually, the groom found everyone except his beautiful bride. The other guests began calling out her name and searched for the young woman everywhere. They began to grow more and more uneasy when they couldn’t find any trace of her.

Eventually, they gave up searching and everybody assumed that the girl had run away and left her husband. As the weeks went by, the husband accepted that his beautiful bride must have had second thoughts about their marriage. He decided to forget about her and go on with his life.

A few years later, a cleaning lady was dusting in the attic when she came across an old trunk. Out of curiosity, she opened it. Inside the trunk, she found the rotting corpse of a young woman, still dressed in a bridal gown. There was a wedding ring on one bony finger. It was the missing bride. She must have hidden in the trunk and accidentally locked herself inside. It was impossible to tell whether she had suffocated or starved to death, but her face was frozen in a silent scream.

Funny Halloween Short Tale

Nora Bone was delivering a new plastic skeleton to the doctor’s office. As she waited at the main desk Nora was aware that the waiting room full of patients was staring at her. So she smiled and said,” I am bringing him into Doctor Henderson.”

An old lady said sympathetically, “My dear! Isn’t it a bit late for the doctor?”

The Green Lady – Another Spooky Tale from the Cemetery

In Burlington, Connecticut, USA, the “Green Lady Cemetery” is haunted by the ghost of a woman who drowned in the nearby swamp. According to local legend, a woman named Elizabeth lived with her husband in the house next to the cemetery.

During a particularly bad winter, the husband left their house to get food and supplies. Unfortunately, the storm was so bad that he was delayed for a few hours.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had grown concerned and had taken it upon herself to venture out into the storm and find her husband. She got lost in the marshy woods and accidentally wandered into the swamp. She became trapped in the quicksand-like mud and slowly sank down, crying out for help.

Her husband was making his way back to the house, carrying a lantern to guide him, when he came upon his wife, sinking up to her neck in the marshy swamp. For whatever reason, the husband refused to help her, no matter how much she pleaded with him. He simply watched as his wife sank deeper and deeper, ignoring her screams for help.

Eventually, the water rose above her head and Elizabeth drowned in the murky waters of the swamp. Since then, witnesses have reported seeing the ghostly figure of a woman walking on the dirt road surrounded by green mist.

They say the haunted cemetery is home to Elizabeth’s ghost and that she has returned to haunt her husband until his death. Her ghost drove him insane as revenge for watching her die. But she did not leave after the death of her husband. Many residents in the area have sighted her in the past thirty years.

A young couple taking pictures in the churchyard saw a green mist over one of the graves. When they checked later, they found that this was the grave where Elizabeth was buried. A group of teens driving through the haunted cemetery were surprised by a green mist that suddenly appeared in front of the car, and caused them to swerve and crash into a tree.

A mysterious light is often seen near the swamp. Those who have seen it describe it as a lamp or lantern that doesn’t move at all. It just remains motionless by the side of the swamp. Locals believe that this is a lantern held by the ghost of Elizabeth’s husband, coldly watching his wife drown. A group of friends walking through the cemetery said they were chased out by a mysterious man holding a lantern.

If you drive by the cemetery, you can see the house next door and the Green Lady’s portrait can be seen through the window. Locals say that even though the old house is abandoned, the portrait is still lit, bathed in a weird green light.

Scary Halloween Poem

The Hook – A Scary Halloween Ghost Story

Shelagh was happy, it was Halloween and she was in love. This evening she would see Jack and they were going to Reading to watch a movie that she particularly wanted to see. As she considered what to wear she hummed along to the music on her radio. The news presenter cut in to issue a news flash that a serial killer had escaped from the nearby Broadmoor Mental Hospital. The presenter described the man as deranged with only one hand as the other had been replaced with a hook. He was not to be approached as he was classified as very dangerous.

Shelagh took little notice of the newsflash as she sang to the next tune being played. She showered and dressed in her most fetching outfit for the evening out.

Jack arrived in his new [to him] Lexus and they set off from Crowthorne to see the film. The movie proved to be excellent and on the way home Jack pulled into a quiet lane near Easthampstead for a kiss and a cuddle while listening to the romantic songs played on his digital radio.

As had happened earlier the programme was interrupted by a news flash which stated that the killer was still at large and had not been taken into
custody. Jack appeared not to hear the news and carried on canoodling. Shelagh was now scared as Easthampstead is rather like the back of Beyond and the night was pitch dark with no moon. She asked Jack to take her home. Jack preferred to stay in the romantic situation in which he found himself and for some little while they argued about the ‘hook man’.

Just then, the car rocked and there was a loud noise. Shelagh screamed at Jack to drive on and he seemed oblivious to the earlier movement. She shouted again and, Jack, with a scowl, raced off into the night.

At her home, near Crowthorne, Jack got out to open Shelagh’s door as he thought that would impress her and let her know that he was not angry with her after their crosswords.

He walked around the Lexus and stared fixedly at something on the side of the car, his mouth gaping and moving soundlessly. Shelagh, concerned, rolled down her window and shrieked at what she saw.

There, on the door handle, right next to where she had been sitting hung, a hook.

Chilling Stories of Halloween

Room for One More

The young and beautiful Comtesse de Vire traveled across France to visit her elderly, sick mother who lived in Auch, Gascony.

Leaving Paris she headed south by rail to the little town of Jonzac, in the Charente-Maritime. Outside the pretty town, she stayed overnight at the
Chateau du Plain, an old building that had a large gravel driveway leading to and from the main doors.

Her bedroom for the overnight stay looked out over the drive. The Comtesse had considerable difficulty sleeping; it was a humid, moonlit night
and as the clock outside her bedroom door struck 12, she heard the noise of horses’ hooves on the gravel outside and the sound of wheels. Intrigued the Comtesse rose and opening the wooden shutters looked out to see who could be arriving at that time of night.

The moonlight was very bright, and she saw a hearse drive up to the door. It hadn’t a coffin in it; instead, it was crowded with people. The
coachman sat high up on the box: as he came opposite the window he drew up and turned his head. His face terrified her, and he said in a distinct voice, ‘There’s room for one more.’

The Comtesse, fearful for her life, drew the curtain, ran back to bed, and covered her head with the bedclothes. In the morning she was not quite
sure whether it had been a dream, or whether she had gotten out of bed and seen the hearse, but she was glad to go up to Jonzac to continue her journey south and leave the old chateau behind her.

In Auch, before visiting her sick mother, the Comtesse was shopping in the world-renowned Galleries Lafayette in which there was an elevator: a
modern invention at that time. She was on the top floor and went to the elevator to descend. It was rather crowded, but as she came up to it, the
elevator operator turned his head and said, ‘There’s room for one more.’

It was the face of the coachman of the hearse.

‘No, thank you,’ spluttered the Comtesse. ‘I’ll take the stairs.’

She turned away, the elevator doors clanged closed, there was a terrible rush and screaming and shouting, and then a great clatter and thud. The
elevator had fallen and every person in it was killed.

The Little Brown Dog

Rachel, from Northallerton, Yorkshire, England was an extremely old woman who had no family still living.

Her only companion and friend was a little brown dog, Slats, who went everywhere with her, with one exception. Slats loved the open fireplace in
winter, and after the old woman went to bed he would sometimes go and lie in the hearth in front of the warm coals. Usually, the dog slept at the very edge of the bed on a throw rug.

Rachel wouldn’t allow the dog on the bed with her, but if she became frightened or had a nightmare, she would put her hand down to the little
a brown dog and he would lick it reassuringly.

One night Rachel was reading her newspaper just before going to sleep. She shivered and pulled the bedclothes up around her as she read that a mental patient had wandered off from the nearby Broadmoor asylum. No one knew if the patient was dangerous or not; he was a suspect in the murders of several women who had lived alone.

Rachel turned out the lights and tried to sleep, but she was frightened, and kept thinking of the news report; she tossed and turned fitfully.

Finally, she reached down to where the little brown dog slept. Sure enough, a warm, wet tongue began to lick her hand. The woman felt reassured
and safe and left her hand dangling off the bed as she turned and settled in comfortably. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked through the open door into the living room.

There in front of the fireplace, sat Slats, gazing at the coals and wagging his tail.

Down beside the bed, something was still licking her hand.

A Mother’s Love: A Soulful and Uplifting Story

One Halloween night, a couple was traveling by car through Epping Forest when, in the far distance, they saw a woman in the middle of the road,
waving frantically.

Cynthia told her husband, Charles to keep on driving because it might be too dangerous, but the husband decided to pass by slowly in case the person was in genuine trouble.

As they drove closer, they noticed that the woman was bleeding from cuts and bruises on her face as well as on her arms. Cynthia and Charles then decide to stop and see if they could be of any assistance.

The cut and bruised woman was begging for help telling them that she had already been in a car accident and that her husband and son, a newborn baby, were still inside the car which was in a deep ditch. She told them that the husband was already dead but that her baby was still alive.

Charles decided to walk to the crash and try to rescue the baby and he asked the hurt woman to stay with Cynthia inside their car. When
Charles arrived at the crash he noticed two people in the front seats of the car but he didn’t pay any attention to them and quickly grabbed the alive baby and got up to take it to the mother.

He straightened up carrying the baby and couldn’t see the mother anywhere so he asked his wife where she had gone. Cynthia told him that the woman followed him back to the crashed car.

When Charles returned to the crash to look for her, he noticed that, the couple in the front seats were dead, one of whom was unmistakably the woman who had flagged them down.

Short Halloween Ghost Stories

A Graveyard Tale

A group of young girls were having a sleepover [slumber party USA] at Halloween and began to exchange ghost stories.

Moira claimed that the old man who had been buried earlier that week in the graveyard down the street had been buried alive. She claimed that if you tried, you could hear him still scratching at the lid of his coffin.

The other girls called her bluff and told her that she wouldn’t do it. They said she was too afraid to go down there to the grave that very night.
They continued to challenge her and eventually, she gave in to the peer pressure and accepted their challenge. Since she was going to go alone, she needed to prove to the others that she followed through with the task. Moira agreed to take a stake with her and drive it into the ground so the next day the girls would know that she had been to the grave.

She headed off to the gravesite, stake in hand, and never returned. The other girls assumed she had “chickened out” and had continued home instead.

The next morning as they passed the graveyard they saw her there at the old man’s grave.

She had accidentally staked her nightie to the ground and when she tried to run from the grave, she couldn’t… she had died of fright right on the
grave.

Funny how one Halloween ghost story reminds you of another….

Uncle John‘s Halloween Story

When I was a boy, each year as the nights began to draw in, my Uncle John would tell us kids this Halloween story. It was a tale about a trick
that he played in a graveyard. One night Uncle John spotted his great friend Eddie weaving his way home from the village pub. As John watched, he saw Eddie open the church’s lychgate and take the shortcut through the graveyard.

There was no doubt that Eddie was the worse for wear, and appeared disoriented, really he should have taken the longer route home via the round ring. But then he cried out to nobody in particular, ‘Where am I?’

John replied instantly, ‘Amongst the living’.

‘Where are you?’ cried Eddie’; to which John replied in his most sepulchral voice, ‘Amongst the dead’.

Eddie sobered up instantly, rushed back the way he came, and took the long way around the churchyard. This time he preferred to go passed the round ring, rather than stay a minute longer amongst the spirits of the gravestones.

A Massachusetts Ghost Story – Retold by S.E. Schlosser

Our friends Josh and Sandy were firm believers in ghosts and claimed to have seen the mysterious red-haired phantom that haunted Route 44.

My wife and I were sitting with them at dinner one night, and we started kidding them about it. ‘Funny how we’ve never seen him, and we drive that stretch of road all the time,’ my wife Jill drawled.

‘You skeptic,’ Sandy said, emphasizing the word as if it were a curse. ‘One of these days, you’re gonna find out I’m right. And you’ll owe me a
pizza.’

‘If I ever see the ghostly hitchhiker, I’ll buy you a large pizza every day for a year,’ I promised.

The evening ended pleasantly, and it wasn’t long before Jill and I were driving home through the crisp fall air.

‘Let’s take Route 44,’ Jill said suddenly, flashing me a sideways look. ‘Hoping to see a ghost?’ I chuckled, taking the turn as she directed.

‘Ha!’ Jill snorted derisively. She yawned and turned her head to face the passenger window. Suddenly, she let out a shriek of sheer terror. I jumped
and glanced sideways, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. A red-haired man with a bushy beard wearing a plaid shirt and blue jeans was running right next to the passenger side of the car. He kept glancing in the window and leering at Jill.

Heart pounding in terror, I hit the gas. A moment later, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the red-haired man sitting in the back seat of
our car. Jill shrieked again and began pummelling the phantom with her purse.

I kept looking back and forth between my wife, the phantom, and the road ahead, determined that I was not going to let the red-haired ghost force us into a fatal accident. I glanced toward the back seat for a moment and the ghost laughed, a laugh that made my teeth tingle and the hairs on my neck stand up.

‘Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.’ Jill gabbled the words
of the rosary. Glancing in the mirror, I saw the phantom grimace as she recited the holy words. Then he vanished without a trace.

I got us out of there much faster than the speed limit allowed. I was shaking from head to toe, and Jill was sobbing hysterically. As soon as I
pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, I swept my wife into my arms and held her as tightly as I could. We clung together for a long time
until both of us had stopped shaking and Jill’s sobs had abated.

‘I want to go inside,’ Jill whispered against my neck, and I nodded, not trusting my voice.

That night we discussed the incident, but oddly enough, neither of us had nightmares. When we woke in the morning, I felt much better about the whole thing, until I remembered my promise to Sandy the night before. I groaned aloud and then clapped a hand over my mouth lest the sound wake my wife. Too late. She opened her green eyes and gave me a sleepy smile.

‘You owe Sandy a year’s worth of pizza,’ Jill said.

‘I most certainly do,’ I replied, rubbing the back of her neck gently. ‘I most certainly do!’

Toby, The Halloween Cat

As she put the last cardboard bat in place, the shop’s door creaked open. David eyed her Halloween display with distaste.

‘You could do with spending a bit more time selling the books, not decorating the place,’ he snapped, tripping over the cat as he went to hang
up his coat.

Phoebe flicked a strand of ebony hair out of her eyes. ‘My display always increases sales,’ she pointed out politely.

In the four years that she had run the bookshop, Phoebe could not remember a single time that he had complimented her on her work. And the
sales figures had increased so much since she had started to run the place. She loved her job. But she hated her boss.

Toby rubbed around her legs, his emerald eyes staring lovingly at her. Phoebe bent to stroke his silky black ears.

‘I’m going upstairs to do some paperwork,’ muttered David.

‘Can you remember to get someone to fix the stairs please?’ Phoebe asked him. ‘It’s a nightmare carrying the books down from the stock room. I’m sure the banisters would give way if I fell.’

David mumbled something and then swore as he fell over Toby. He turned to kick out but Toby had disappeared. ‘And get rid of that cat,’ he snarled.

‘But the customers like him,’ she said quietly, but David was already halfway up the stairs.

‘Don’t worry, Toby. I’ll get rid of him before I get rid of you.’ Toby blinked his eyes affectionately and rubbed around his mistress’s ankles.

Phoebe tidied up the piles of books on her Spectres and Spells display, picking up one of the books to read while she waited for the first customers of the day.

‘I do hate him, Toby,’ she sighed. ‘Always too busy thinking about money to care about the books.’ Phoebe watched as Toby tore at the carpet,
sharpening his claws.

‘And if he saw you doing that …’ What would he do if he saw Toby wrecking the carpet? He was always trying to kick Toby. What a truly
horrible man he was.

It was nearing lunchtime when Phoebe heard the familiar creaking upstairs of David getting ready to leave. She glanced around to make sure Toby wasn’t up to mischief but he was nowhere to be seen.

David screamed. A ghastly scream. And then a crash.

Phoebe rushed into the back to see David sprawled across the floor at the foot of the stairs. His neck was at the wrong angle. The banisters were
splintered across the hall. Toby stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

‘It would have been instantaneous,’ said the paramedic softly when the ambulance arrived twenty minutes later. ‘It looks like he tripped on the
loose bit of carpet.’ He patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. But Phoebe was watching as they moved David’s dead body.

She saw a neat row of claw marks across his ankle. Deep claw marks. And she saw Toby. Sitting. Watching.

When the ambulance had left, Phoebe sat down at the bookshop counter.

‘Thank you, Toby,’ she said and he purred.

Footnote: A cat, especially a black cat at Halloween is almost certainly a witch’s ‘familiar’.

Elusive Ghost

Fred, the photographer goes to a haunted castle determined to get a picture of a ghost. The ghost he encounters turns out to be friendly and poses for a snapshot. Happily, Fred dashes into his studio, develops the film and…to his horror, finds that the photos are underexposed and completely blank.

Moral of the story: The spirit is willing, but the flash is weak.

The Vampiress – A Fearful Poem by Lord Lytton [1803-1873]

Found a corpse, with glittering hair,
Of a woman whose face, tho’ dead,
The white death in it had left still fair,
Too fair for an earthly bed!
So I loosened each fold of her bright curls
roll’d From forehead to foot in a rush of red gold,
And kissed her lips till her lips were red,
And warm and light on her eyelids white
I breath’d, and pressed unto mine her breast,
Till the blue eyes ope’d and
the breast grew warm,
And this woman, behold! arose up bold,
And lifelike lifting a wilful arm,
With steady feet from the winding sheet
Stepp’d forth to a mutter’d charm.
And now beside me, whatever betide me,
This woman is night and day.
For she cleaves to me so, that,
wherever I go She is with me the whole of the way. And her eyes are so
bright in the dead of the night,
That they keep me awake with dread;
While my lifeblood pales in my veins and fails,
Because her red lips are so red
That I fear ’tis my heart she must eat for her food;
And it makes my whole flesh creep
To think she is drinking and draining my blood,
Unawares, if I chance to sleep.
It was better for me, ere I came nigh her,
This corpse,–ere I looked upon her,
Had they burn’d my body with penal fire
With a sorcerer’s dishonor.
For when the devil has made his lair
In the living eyes of a dear dead woman,
(To bind a man’s strength by her golden hair,
And break his heart, if his heart be human),
Is there any penance, or any prayer,
That may save the sinner whose soul he tries
To catch in the curse of the constant stare
Of those heartbreaking bewildering eyes,
Comfortless, cavernous glowworms that glare
From the gaping grave where a dead hope lies?
It is more than the soul of a man may bear.
For the misery worst of all miseries
Is Desire eternally feeding Despair
On the flesh, or the blood, that forever supplies
Life is more than enough to keep fresh in repair
The death ever dying, which yet never dies.

Problem With Clairvoyant

The ghost you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep.

The Frightening Ghost of Able Fable

Able Fable was a miserable old man, who was always worried that someone would break into his house and steal all his money. Each night before he would go to sleep, he would lock his wallet up in a safe located near his bed so that if anyone were to try to rob him they would have to wake him up to do it.

Unfortunately, on the night that Able died, he had only placed the wallet on the table near the safe without locking it up. Before his death, Able
said to his family and friends that none of them were to touch his home or his money and he said that anyone who came near his safe and wallet would be greeted by his ghost and be scared away. Following Able’s death the family decided that the money in the Fable house was not doing any good if not used, so they went into the home to get it.

Able’s eldest son decided to make the first attempt. He opened the door and went in, he saw Able’s wallet on the table and reached for it.
Immediately he heard a voice say, ‘I am the ghost of Able Fable, put the money back on the table!’ The voice scared the son so much that he ran
from the room and out the door, screaming, ‘I heard the voice of a ghost!’

The eldest daughter in disbelief decided she would make her way into Able’s room. She entered and reached for the wallet.

She then heard the voice say, ‘I am the ghost of Able Fable, put the money back on the table!’

The daughter was so scared that she dropped the wallet and ran from the room screaming, ‘I heard the voice of a ghost!’

The youngest son decided to make his attempt at getting the money. When he entered the room and reached for the wallet he also heard the voice say, ‘I am the ghost of Able Fable, put the money back on the table!’

The youngest son decided that he was not easily scared and said back, ‘Well, I am the ghost of Davy Crockett and the money is going to stay in my pocket!’

The youngest son took all the money for his own and the ghost of Able Fable was never heard from again!

Short Halloween Stories For Kids

The Legend of Bride’s Head Bridge

There’s a bridge near Hanover in Germany called ‘Der Kopf der Braut’, which means bride’s head. A 15th-century legend has it that Reichsgraf
von Kesselstatt and his bride Gretchen were approaching the bridge in their horse and carriage when their way was blocked by an elderly crone.

The Reichsgraf or ‘Count’ ordered the old lady to get off the bridge instantly and make way for their carriage. But it was dark, and the old lady had difficulty in herding her sheep off the bridge.

Because the old witch was moving none too fast, Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt took his whip and gave her a sound thrashing. Bleeding, and cowering in a ditch, the old witch put a curse on the carriage. Consequently when the bridal party eventually crossed the bridge, one of the horses shied and the other reared up. The upshot was that Gretchen was thrown from the carriage into the river below.

It seems certain that she drowned as the river was in torrents and Gretchen was never seen again. However, it is said by Hanoverian Wicca
that at Halloween you can see a headless bride standing on rocks in the middle of the river. Some say she is looking for her lost head, while others say she is looking for her beloved Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt.

Texas Halloween Investigation

There was a murder in Texas at Halloween, and the FBI was called in to investigate. Hitchcock, one of the officers, saw something written in blood on the wall. It looked like the number ‘7734’, but he was not sure; anyway, he took lots of pictures.

When Hitchcock got back to the lab he developed the film of the crime scene, but he still could not make any progress with the number. In the hope of inspiration, he took the sheaf of photographs home and spread them on the dining room table. Just at that moment his 7-year-old daughter Emma came in through the patio door opposite and looked down at the photographs.

‘Why have you photographed hell?’, she asked, then Hitchcock saw that when held upside down, 7734 spelled: ‘hELL’.

Halloween Skeleton for the Doctor

An intern was sent to collect a new skeleton from the central store. When he arrived at the consultant surgeon’s office there was already a queue
of patients waiting. As the intern wrestled the skeleton through the outside door he became aware of people gazing at him enquiringly.

He smiled at them and said, ‘I am bringing him to the doctor.’

An old lady said sympathetically, ‘My dear! Isn’t he a bit late for the doctor?’

‘The Pumpkin’ by the STORY maKING Mother

…There was once a pumpkin who lived on a farm with a very kind farmer…and a lot of other pumpkins.

The farmer was a good man who loved his pumpkins very much, and he always spoke kindly to them. He took good care of them and taught them all how to be good.

In the morning, he sang a sweet song to his pumpkins, and after lunch, he told them to sit very still and soak up the sunshine. Then, as it began to
get dark each evening, this farmer came to his pumpkins and told them to drink up the water from the ground through their roots–very slowly. (It’s
kind of like drinking through a straw when pumpkins drink water through their roots.) Then, when it was time to go to bed, he came again and told
them all to go to sleep and get plenty of rest so that they could grow up big and strong.

There was one pumpkin that did everything he asked. When it was time to sit quietly and soak up the sun, she did it. When it was time to drink up
the water, she sucked it up nice and slow, just as he showed her. And when it was dark and the farmer said, ‘Sleep, little ones…’ our pumpkin would smile and let her body relax, and soon she would be fast asleep.

It was a nice life, and the pumpkin was happy because the farmer loved her. She was really glad when he told her that she was special and pretty.
She wanted to make the farmer proud. And when they were all little, the pumpkins were very good and loved each other. It was perfect!

But the pumpkins began to grow, and as they did, they all changed. Each one got stronger, fatter, and could do more things. Everyone except our
sweet little pumpkin. Instead of growing bigger, she stayed small, and when all of the other pumpkins began staying up late or would not soak up the sun or drink their water, our little green pumpkin kept being good. She obeyed the farmer even when everyone else didn’t, but soon, the other pumpkins began to make fun of her.

‘Ooh, there’s the good little baby! She never does anything wrong…she’s so GOOOOOD!’ When the farmer said it, all of that sounded nice. But now,
they were saying it to her in a new way–in a mean way. She didn’t feel proud when THEY said it…she felt embarrassed and sad. Why did they have to pick on her?

For the next few days, life was hard for our little pumpkin. All of the other pumpkins laughed at her when she sat very still and quiet, soaking up
the sun. They all wanted to talk and laugh and say mean things about her–none of them sat still. And when it was time to drink water, she kept
drinking nice and slow, while they gulped it down so that they could go back and play.

After a while, the pumpkins began to grow up. Every day, the farmer came and said, ‘We’re going to have delicious pies this year–yes, indeed, they
will be lovely.’ All of the pumpkins were proud of that. They each wanted to be eaten and enjoyed by the farmer. But everyone knew that there was
something better.

All of the pumpkins had heard the story of the seed pumpkin. Each year, the farmer chose a very special pumpkin that he didn’t cook. That pumpkin was always the biggest and most beautiful pumpkin of them all. The farmer would choose the best pumpkin, take out all of the seeds, and plant them for next year. Her mom had been the seed pumpkin last year. This year, her biggest dream was to be chosen.

Deep down, she knew she wouldn’t be chosen. After all, she had tried to be good, and even after working so hard and doing everything right, she was still the smallest pumpkin. She was also the only one left who was green. All of the other pumpkins had turned orange by now. She was sad about that–she still looked like a baby!

A few days later, the farmer came over to her and said, ‘You remind me of your mother. You’ll surprise us all yet.’ She didn’t understand him, but she knew that he loved her, and that made her happy. The little green pumpkin smiled and decided that even if she never was special, she was glad that she had been good because the farmer was happy with her. She went to sleep that night very glad, and all the days until the big harvest party, she was still happy.

During this time, she started turning orange. It was a nice change, and she liked her new color. Also, the other pumpkins stopped making fun of her. In fact, they made friends and were very nice to her now. She was glad about that, but she didn’t stop being good, even when they asked her to play during sun-soaking time. ‘Nope, I have to do what the farmer says,’ she would answer. And they didn’t laugh at her. She wondered why…

The harvest party finally came, and the farmer was very busy in his house. He didn’t even come out to speak to them that morning, but they weren’t sad. This was the day that the seed pumpkin would be chosen. ‘We all know who that’s going to be,’ one of the pumpkins said, and everyone agreed. ‘Who?’ said our pumpkin. But no one would answer her; they just kept on drinking. They were all trying to drink extra today so that they would be sweet and juicy when they were made into pies.

The farmer finally came out to them before the harvesters came. Smiling, he cut our pumpkin’s roots free and picked her up, saying, ‘Your time has come, my little Baby.’ Smiling, the pumpkin felt very happy. She guessed that he planned to make an early pie of her, and she was proud of being chosen. Happily, she bounced against his chest as he carried her into the house.

The pumpkin looked around the house, thinking of her mother. ‘She was in here when she was chosen as the seed pumpkin. I wish I could have been like her.’ Suddenly, she missed her mother, and she began to cry. ‘Oh, Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t get to make you proud. I’m sorry that they didn’t choose me to be the seed pumpkin…’

The farmer walked by a wall that had pictures of all his old seed pumpkins. She saw her grandfather, her mother, and finally, it looked like another picture of her mother again. But then, she realized it wasn’t a picture! It was a mirror! She looked just like her mother, the old seed pumpkin, and she suddenly had an idea…

The farmer took her into the kitchen and laid her on the counter. Smiling, he said, ‘You were chosen because you wanted to be good, and you love to obey. I knew that you would grow bigger and brighter than the others because you were the best one inside, and when a pumpkin is good inside, it will someday turn pretty outside. Smiling, the pumpkin realized that being good was hard, but it was worth it. And she was very, very, happy.

When the other pumpkins saw the seeds, they all were sorry that they had been bad. But it was too late for them. They had lost their chance to be the seed pumpkin. But they could still be good, and they decided to be good right then! Because of their changed hearts, they made yummy pies. And when people remembered the party, they said, ‘It was the best one we ever had!’

THE END

This Short Pumpkin Story for Kids was by The Story Making Mother

The Trip to the Brocken, Germany

Once upon a time, there was a young man who was engaged to marry a pretty girl. After a while, the bridegroom-to-be became suspicious of his fiancée and her mother. You see, they were both witches.

The day came when witches went the Brocken, and the two women climbed into the hayloft, took a small glass, drank from it, and suddenly disappeared. The bridegroom-to-be, who had sneaked after them and observed them, was tempted to take a swallow from the glass. He picked it up and sipped a little from it, and suddenly he was on the Brocken, where he saw how his fiancée and her mother were carrying on with the witches, who were dancing around the devil, who was standing in their midst.

After the dance was ended, the devil commanded everyone to take her glass and drink, and immediately afterward they all flew off in the four
directions of the wind. The bridegroom-to-be, however, stood there all soul alone on the Brocken, freezing, for it was a cold night. He hadn’t brought a glass with him, so he had to return on foot.

After a long, difficult hike he finally came to his fiancée’s. However, she was very angry, and her mother scolded him as well, for having drunk
from the glass. Mother and daughter finally agreed to turn the bridegroom-to-be into a donkey, and that is what happened.

The poor bridegroom-to-be was now a donkey, and he plodded unhappily from one house to the next, crying a sad ‘ee-ah, ee-ah.’ A man felt sorry for the donkey, took him into his stall, and gave him some hay. But understandably the donkey did not want to eat and was driven from the stall with blows.

After wandering about for a long time, long-ears finally came back to the house of his fiancée, the witch, and he cried out pitifully. The fiancée saw her former bridegroom-to-be, standing there before her door as a donkey with a bowed head and ears hanging down.

She regretted what she had done and said to the donkey, ‘I will help you, but you must do what I tell you. At a child’s baptism, place yourself before the church door and let the baptismal water be poured over your back, and then you will be transformed back into a human.’

The donkey followed his fiancée’s advice. The next Sunday, a child was baptized, and the donkey placed himself before the church door. When the baptismal service was over, the sexton wanted to pour out the baptismal water, but the donkey was standing in his way.

‘Go on, you old donkey!’ said the sexton, but the donkey did not yield. Then the sexton became angry and poured the water over the animal’s back.

Now the donkey was redeemed and was transformed back into a man. He hurried to his fiancée, married her, and lived happily with her from that
time forth.

A Long Short Story for Halloween

A Feast at Samhain By Andrew Mitchell

Huddled together in their hut of stone and sod, Elder Ongham hugged his children closer as the spirits of the dead raged outside.

For it was the festival of Samhain, the first full moon after the harvest. On this night the dead rose from their graves and communed with
the living, gently knocking on doors to have a quiet word with their kin. Candles burned in windows and hollowed out gourds so the waking spirits might find their way home through the mist, and warm their souls by the hearth awhile. It was a homecoming of sorts, and most welcome to families in mourning for loved ones.

But there was also a spirit in town who was not so welcome, said to be none other than Finart, the only son of Dis Pater; Lord of the Underworld.
It was told that Finart, a warrior in his prime, met his bloody end in the fields nearby a hundred years before in a great battle. To punish his
killers, Dis demanded a human sacrifice for his son each year on the night of Samhain or he would unleash all the dark souls in his keeping on the
land.

And so each year the folk in the area drew lots, and this Samhain it was the Ongham’s youngest daughter Brigan who was picked by Druid Mera. Just six years old, she was to be tied to a stake outside their home with an offering of wine at her feet and left there for Finart’s hungry ghost to devour.

But in the end, Elder could not bear it, and as the sun dipped below the horizon he cut his daughter’s bonds and carried her inside.

“It wasn’t fair,” he argued with his terror-stricken wife, “that she should be picked. The Onghams and my kin have given seven souls to the beast
in 20 years, while the Corans, Morannons, and Fensters have given naught. And small wonder, for it is they that rule the town and their Druid who picks the names! Why, none of the families of wealth ever seem to give their sons and daughters, and when a name of a rich family is picked it’s always an old relative not long for this world anyway.”

Elder began to reconsider his decision a short while later when the spirit of Finart passed his home and saw the empty stake. The ghost raged
against the small home with wind and rain, plainly trying to blow it over so that he might have his feast and bones to chew on all the long winter. For a spirit – even the son of a god – could not suffer to pass the doors of the living unless invited inside, but a broken home offered no protection.

Elder knew his house was strong and built of heavy stones, but as Finart howled outside and mortar dust filled the room he knew a moment of doubt. Finart would depart when the sun came up, but that was hours away and he was stronger than piles of stone. Ongham also knew that he had the power to summon Dis and that there would be no denying the Lord of the Dead if he joined the assault.

He wondered if he gave his daughter up now if the ghost would be sated, or whether it would take more of his children to quell the demi-god’s
rage…

“I’ve got an idea,” said his wife suddenly. “When the god comes, and surely he must, he will be seeking mortals to devour.”

“Aye,” said Elder, as if it were obvious. “That’s the way it’s done.”

“But what,” his wife suggested, “if they found no mortals within these walls, just more spirits such as they?”

“Are ye suggesting we kill ourselves now and save the bloody ghost the effort?” he demanded. Elder had already planned to fight, though little good it would do.

“I’m saying, husband, that we make ourselves up to be spirits and walk right past them. Tell them the Onghams have died in the plague.”

“And how, my Morgana, do you propose we fool them?” asked Elder, intrigued.

She looked around the room desperately, focusing on odds and ends.

“Like so!” she said and rose from the patch of floor where they were huddled. She took down a pair of antlers from the wall and fixed it to
Elder’s head with a bit of string. She reached into their sack of fine ground wheat and began tossing clumps into their faces so they were as pale
as the dead. She grabbed lengths of sack cloths and linens, and they wrapped themselves like the dead were arrayed before a burial. She cut the head from a poor chicken that cowered clucking in the corner, and dabbed their faces with blood.

“Now,” she said, “we look like proper spirits.”

“You’re a miracle worker,” said Elder, astonished by their transformation. The antlers were heavy and uncomfortable, but he felt this might work.

Just then the howling outside stopped. Finart was now chanting, his harsh voice invoking a spell to summon his father.

“Well,” said Elder. “It’s now or naught, I gather.” He clapped his hands together. “So-who wants to go first?”

His family stared at him in disbelief.

“Jes’ joking,” he said. “Pulling yer legs. Trying to lighten the mood somewhat. Remember you lot, we’re either evil spirits or we’re dinner for a god and his bastard son.”

Elder pushed open the door with a creak. The mist surrounded his house, glowing blue beneath the moon that rose over the moor.

He started moaning, like he’d seen the spirits of the dead do at many a Samhain, and walked slowly from his house with his family in tow.

“Whooooooo,” he said.

“Arrrrrggghh,” groaned his wife.

“Moooooooan,” moaned his children.

“Who goes there?” asked a sharp and rusty voice from the gloom And just then the mist parted enough for the Onghams to see a mighty wight, clad in armour and animal skins. Finart was eyeless and his earthen face creeped with worms and bugs. Behind him, they could see two legs, the knees as high as Finart’s foul head, the body hidden in the mist.

“Just us spirits, roaming the earth on the Festival of Samhain,” said Elder, matter-of-factly. “You wish to make something of it sir?”

“Peace, spirit,” said Finart. “I have come for my sacrifice.”

“What?” said Elder. “Here? I’m afraid you’re a month past it, ghost. You’re behind the times. The plague took every last one of the poor
bastards.”

“Plague?” asked Finart suspiciously. “Then why have the people of the town placed the sacrificial post outside? Why can I smell the blood of the
living?”

“I think there’s a few chickens left in there,” said Elder helpfully. “Though I know not what the post is for.” He lowered his voice. “Though, my
lords, I do suspect treachery!”

“Treachery!” boomed a voice, and Elder quailed for a moment when he realized that the god had spoken.

“Aye, treachery most foul,” Elder repeated. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I think you should pay a call on the rotten Corans, three houses down.
Then the dirty Morannons, who live in that grand stone house at the end of the lane. Just past them in the country, in a fine manor lit up for Samhain, you’ll find the wretched Fensters.”

Finart regarded him for a moment through his empty eye sockets.

“What say you father… shall we visit these folk?”

“Hmmm,” boomed the voice. “I think we shall, my son. For spirits have naught to fear and so they never lie. This horned spirit tells the truth. And I am hungry!”

“Yea, well tuck in,” said Elder. “Eat the lot and more power to you. As for us, we’ll be going on our way. See you again next year.”

“And a happy Samhain to you,” said Finart and the two marched away.

The Onghams let out a collective sigh of release.

“Cor! I thought we were done for!” said Elder, kissing his wife and gathering Brigan in his arms.

“I think we should do this every year, daddy,” said Brigan, giving him a hug

“Aye,” agreed Elder. “We’ll go door to door dressed like this, and see what we can rustle up in the way of offerings – and haunt the ones that
wronged us! And we’ll fear the dead no more.”

“Who’s for roast chicken?” asked Morgana, and they all filed back into their stone house for a late supper.

Three houses down they heard stones shattering and the screams of the Corans rent the night. But if you closed your eyes and chewed, you could pretend it was just the wind.

Funny Halloween Graveyard Stories

Strange Goings On in the Portchester Graveyard

A True, Graveyard Spooky Story from Southend, Essex

More Spooky Happenings in the Cemetery

More Funny, Strange, Quirky Halloween Tales and Jokes

Hide and Seek – A Creepy and Frightening StoryA Young Bride Who Goes Missing Before Her Honeymoon.

Funny Halloween Short Tale

The Green Lady – Another Spooky Tale from the Cemetery

More Halloween Graveyard Stories

Halloween Graveyard Story from Vienna

Halloween Yarn From An English Graveyard

Ghostly Halloween Graveyard Story

Collection of Short Halloween Stories

Fire-fighters Halloween Story

Halloween Aliens

More Research on the Halloween Aliens:

Bear Tries Trick or Treat

Arachnophobe Terrified At Halloween Time

A True Scary Tale

The Old Witch by The Brothers Grimm