A cold October wind rustled the last remaining leaves on the trees, a fitting soundtrack for the pranks Jessie had been pulling all month. The leaves crunched under his feet as he approached the old, abandoned Miller house, the place everyone in town swore was haunted. He was planning his final, and most elaborate, prank for his friends. A classic fake ghost gag, complete with a fog machine and a prerecorded spooky voice. But tonight, something felt different. The air was heavy, the silence broken only by the whispers of the wind.
He set up his gear, a nervous energy buzzing in his veins. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, a fleeting thought that maybe he'd pushed his luck too far. He dismissed it with a shake of his head. It was just a prank. He activated the fog machine and as the thick mist swirled around his ankles, he turned to leave, a mischievous grin on his face.
That's when he felt a sharp, icy hand on his shoulder. He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. The mischievous grin vanished, replaced by a look of sheer terror. He whipped around, expecting to see one of his friends, but there was no one there. The hand was gone, but the cold lingered, seeping into his bones. He took a panicked step back, then another, and then everything went blank.
When he came to, the fog was gone, the air still, and a full moon hung high in the sky, casting long, twisted shadows. He was on the ground, his head throbbing. He pushed himself up, his body trembling, and as he stood, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the Miller house. It was a sound that seemed to claw its way from the depths of hell itself, a sound that no living thing should ever make. It was the sound of true, unadulterated fear. And it was followed by a chilling, echoing silence. Jessie's blood ran cold. He was alone, in the darkness, with the lingering echo of a scream that he knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, had not been part of his plan.
The Misguided Prank of Jessie
By Antasia
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