"Hush now, little one... Listen closely."

They say the fog at night is just mist, but that’s a lie.

The fog breathes. It creeps through forests and streets alike, hiding wicked things — things that feast on fear and laughter alike.

If you walk too far alone, you might hear giggles in the dark. But don’t laugh back, child.

They love it when you laugh. The Jester in red dances there, his smile sharp enough to hurt you without a single blade.

They say he sings songs that never end... because once you hear them, you don’t come back.

And that’s only the start.

They whisper of a figure who walks the alleys late at night — a shadow with silver glints that flicker before your eyes close forever.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He only visits those foolish enough to wander alone beneath the moon’s gaze.

Some speak of a pale woman who floats through dreams like smoke.

Don’t follow her voice, no matter how kind it seems.

Her touch turns warm blood cold as winter frost.

The bravest have even told tales of the grey mist — the ghost that never walks, only watches. And beyond all these horrors, there is the one no one dares describe aloud.

The Forgotten One. They say it doesn’t kill... it devours the pieces that make you, you.

But hush, child, these are only stories.

Nothing hides beneath your bed tonight. Nothing watches from the window. Nothing stands at the edge of the woods, waiting for your sleepy eyes to close.

And yet... should you hear a whisper, should laughter echo from places unseen, don’t wait to listen. Run. Run fast and don’t look back.

Because the night belongs to them.