This was the first Halloween Kate’s daughter would celebrate without her father. Kate still hadn’t moved on from her husband’s disappearance. Seeing her daughter smile again made Kate forget everything. But when she saw the same dress Carl used to make on a different girl, her heart skipped a beat.
It was almost Halloween, and the air was filled with the crispness of autumn. Leaves crunched underfoot outside, and the neighborhood was slowly transforming into a festive, spooky wonderland.
Outside her cozy home, Kate was busy decorating, determined to make everything perfect for her daughter, Holly.
The lawn was already filled with a jumble of decorations — plastic bats, fake cobwebs, and flickering pumpkins.
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Kate stood on a stool, carefully stringing up the bats while Holly followed closely behind, bringing her own items to contribute.
Holly’s enthusiasm made Kate smile, but the little girl had her own unique ideas about Halloween. Holly didn’t quite understand the concept of “spooky.”
Instead of creepy decorations, she carried her favorite pink dolls and a fluffy teddy bear, arranging them carefully on the front porch, right next to the jack-o’-lanterns.
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Kate watched with amusement as Holly placed her toys in a neat line. She admired her daughter’s creativity but knew it was time to explain, yet again, what Halloween was all about.
“Sweetheart,” Kate began, her voice soft, “Halloween is supposed to be spooky, not cute.”
She smiled gently, realizing she had explained this a thousand times, but Holly was only five — she had her own ideas.
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Holly looked up at her mother with wide, curious eyes.
“But why, Mommy? Why does it have to be spooky?” she asked, her tiny hands clutching her beloved teddy bear.
Kate chuckled softly, stepping down from the stool.
“Well, that’s just how Halloween works,” she explained patiently.
“It’s a time when people dress up in costumes and pretend to be scary, just for fun. But it’s okay if we make it a little cute too.”
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Holly still seemed unconvinced, her brows furrowed in thought. But after a moment, she nodded and shrugged.
“Okay, Mommy.” Then, her face lit up. “Can I wear the costume that Daddy made me last year?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Kate’s heart clenched at the mention of Carl, her husband who had disappeared without a trace six months ago.
It felt like a sudden punch to the stomach, wiping the smile from her face.
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For a moment, she froze, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for a bat decoration to hang up.
“No, sweetheart,” Kate said softly, her voice catching in her throat.
“I’ll make you a new costume this year.”
“But I liked Daddy’s costume,” Holly protested, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“Do you think he’ll come back for Halloween?” she added innocently.
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The question hung in the air like a heavyweight. Kate’s heart ached, but she forced a smile, kneeling to Holly’s level and brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“I don’t think he’ll be back, darling,” Kate said, her voice gentle but filled with sadness.
The ache of not knowing what had happened to Carl never left her, but she had to be strong — for Holly.
Later that evening, the excitement in the air was almost tangible.
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Kate knelt before Holly, making sure every detail of her daughter’s new costume was perfect.
Holly could hardly stand still, her small feet bouncing with anticipation, her candy bucket already gripped tightly in one hand.
“Hold still for just one more second, sweetie,” Kate said with a smile, adjusting the hood of Holly’s cape and giving it a final tug to make sure it sat just right.
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“Do you have everything? Your bucket, your flashlight, your cape — everything ready?”
“Yes, Mom!” Holly said, her voice bubbling with excitement. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve impatiently.
“Can I please go now? My friends are waiting!”
Kate couldn’t help but laugh at Holly’s eagerness. The pure joy on her daughter’s face was contagious, and for a brief moment, all the worry and sadness Kate carried about Carl’s disappearance melted away.
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“Alright, go on,” she said, pulling Holly in for a quick hug before letting her go. “Be safe and have fun.”
Holly flashed a wide, bright smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement, before running off to join her friends.
A small group of children, all dressed in colorful costumes, was already waiting at the end of the street, their laughter echoing in the night.
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Kate watched Holly as she disappeared into the sea of costumes, feeling a sense of joy at seeing her daughter so happy.
With a contented sigh, Kate turned back toward the house and started preparing a big bowl of candy for the trick-or-treaters who would soon come knocking.
Before long, the doorbell rang, and the familiar chorus of “Trick or treat!” filled the air.
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Kate greeted each group of children with a warm smile, dropping candy into their eager buckets and laughing at their colorful costumes.
But then, a little girl appeared on the doorstep, and Kate’s smile froze.
The girl was dressed in a cute little coat with a bouncy cape, and for a moment, Kate’s breath caught in her throat.
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The costume looked so familiar — too familiar. It was just like the ones Carl used to make. The same fabric, the same intricate details, and the same bouncy cape.
Kate’s mind raced back to when Carl would sit at the sewing machine, working on costumes for Holly, explaining how to make the cape float just right.
“That’s a beautiful costume you have, sweetheart,” Kate said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
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“Where did you get it?”
The little girl beamed up at her.
“My father made it! Do you like it?”
Kate’s heart pounded. “Yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s beautiful… and the cape is bouncy, isn’t it?”
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The girl nodded eagerly.
“My father says it’s better this way.”
Kate was stunned. Could it be? No, it couldn’t. Carl had been missing for so long.
This had to be a coincidence… right? But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, something deep inside her wouldn’t let it go.
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Unable to stop herself, Kate leaned down and gently asked the little girl,
“Would you mind showing me where your house is? I’d love to ask your father how he made that costume. Maybe he can help me make one for Holly.”
The girl smiled, her innocence shining through.
“Sure! I live just a few streets away,” she said, pointing in the direction of her home.
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Kate’s heart raced as soon as she closed the door behind the girl. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this.
Could it really be Carl? After all these months, was he just a few streets away? Her mind was spinning, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.
Without hesitating, she grabbed her coat, threw it over her shoulders, and followed the girl’s directions.
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What if it really was Carl? What would she say? What would he say? As much as she wanted answers, she was afraid of what she might find. Still, she couldn’t turn back now. She had to know.
As Kate approached the house the little girl had described, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
There, standing in the doorway, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, was Carl. Her Carl.
The man she had loved, the man she had grieved for. He was alive. He was right there in front of her.
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Carl spotted her almost immediately, and his face changed. There was no doubt — he recognized her.
His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, they both stood frozen, just staring at each other.
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest as she took a few hesitant steps toward him. The only word she could manage to say was, “Hi.”
Carl swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper.
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“Hi,” he replied, just as quietly.
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions.
Kate could feel a flood of questions bubbling up inside her, but none of them seemed to come out.
Her voice trembled when she finally managed to speak again.
“How have you been?”
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Carl sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to find the right words.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t want to disappear like that. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”
Kate’s heart pounded faster.
“The truth?” she repeated, her voice shaking. “What truth?”
Carl looked away, guilt written all over his face. “I met someone else,” he admitted quietly.
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“Her name is Rachel, and… I fell in love with her. That little girl, she calls me her father now. They’re my family.”
The words hit Kate like a ton of bricks. Her heart shattered. She could barely breathe as the reality of what he was saying sunk in.
“And what about me? What about Holly? We’re your family too,” she said, her voice barely holding back the hurt.
“I know,” Carl said softly, his eyes full of regret. “But I couldn’t live in two worlds anymore. I had to choose.”
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Kate stood in silence, her heart aching with every breath. “And you chose them,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry,” Carl said, his voice thick with regret. He looked down, avoiding her gaze. “Is there anything I can do to make it right?”
Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to stay composed. “Just be happy,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “That’s all you can do. We’ll try to be happy too.”
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Before Carl could respond, a woman appeared in the doorway behind him. “Who is this, Carl? What’s going on?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.
“Rachel, please,” Carl began, turning toward her. But Kate had already made up her mind. She didn’t need to hear more.
Without a word, she turned and walked away, her heart heavy but resolute. The Carl she had known was gone. It was time to let go and move on.
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As she approached her house, she saw Holly running toward her, her candy bucket nearly overflowing.
Holly’s smile was bright and full of joy, lighting up the evening. Kate knelt down, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter.
At that moment, she realized that all she needed was right here, with Holly. It was time to start living again, just the two of them.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: For Lisa, agoraphobia wasn’t just a disorder—it was her entire life. She hadn’t left her apartment in years and lived only by watching other people through their windows. She made up stories about the people she saw in her head, but her life changed when she decided that one of them needed her help.
I Received a Panicked Video Message from My Mom — I Was Stunned to Learn What Dad Had Done to Her.
While Annie is having a lazy Saturday, sitting around and scrolling through social media, a video message from her mom pops up. As she hits play, Annie discovers that one of her father’s pranks has left her mother scared and alone. Annie rushes over to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson.
I didn’t think my dad would ever take one of his dumb jokes this far, but here we are, having lived through it. My phone lit up earlier today with a video message from my mom that made my heart stop for a second.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and now, hours later, I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
Let me back up a second and give you some context on how everything went down. My dad is what you’d call “old school.” He has this grumpy exterior, like he came straight out of the 1970s and never quite adapted to life in the present.
He’s not a bad guy, but he can be ridiculously difficult to get along with. He doesn’t do heart-to-hearts or deep conversations. Instead, he sheds part of his grumpiness off when he’s at home and leans into his pranking nature. They are harmless, annoying little pranks that he thinks are hilarious but leave my mom rolling her eyes and sighing.
Most of the time, Dad does really stupid stuff like hiding Mom’s glasses when she’s looking for them or misplacing her keys right when she’s about to leave. These pranks have always been annoying, but nothing too wild.
Except today.
Today, Dad decided to really outdo himself.
I was in my little apartment about 20 minutes from my parents’ house. I was minding my own business, sipping on a soft drink and scrolling through TikTok, when my phone pinged with a message from my mother.
A video message.
The thumbnail was black, and all I could hear was her voice, which was muffled and kind of shaky. Like she was afraid of something.
That’s when I got a bit panicked. Mom wasn’t the type to send video messages. To be honest, I didn’t think she knew how to do it. Immediately, I knew that something was off.
I tapped play, and there she was. The camera was all shaky, and she was crouched in a corner, whispering like she was about to be caught by someone or something.
“Annie,” she breathed into the phone. “Sweetheart, your dad… he locked me in the basement. Can you come help me? He thinks this is funny. All because he wanted to eat in peace. I think there are rats or mice in the basement, Annie. Come quickly.”
What. The. Hell.
I was so shocked, I nearly dropped my phone onto the floor. Locked in the basement? He locked her in the basement? And it was supposed to be funny?
My dad, in all his “wisdom,” had apparently decided that the best way to enjoy his dinner in peace was to lock my mother in the basement. Just so that she wouldn’t remind him to eat his veggies during a precious football game? He truly didn’t care about his cholesterol.
I called her back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I muttered.
My brain went straight into overdrive. My mom never asked for help unless things were way beyond something she could do for herself. She was a woman who could handle herself. I mean, she’s lived with my father for years, so that had to count for something. But she was also a woman who was deeply afraid of the dark and confined places.
So now, she was locked in the basement and not answering her phone. Dad had really crossed a line with this one.
I texted her, but there was no response.
“Maybe her phone died, Annie,” I told myself. “She must be so afraid… and livid.”
I knew I had to get to her as soon as possible.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I live about twenty minutes away from my parents, but I swear, I made it in twelve.
The entire drive, I was fuming, and I already knew how this was going to end. My dad thought he was clever, but if there’s one thing I inherited from him, other than his eye color, it’s the ability to come up with a solid revenge plan.
“I can’t believe the nerve of this man,” I said to myself as I turned into our street.
When I got to the house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I had my spare key, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear the muffled sound of the TV blaring from the living room.
Classic Dad.
He was probably sitting there, stuffing his face with steak. It was a home routine—Saturdays meant steak for dinner. Little did he know, I was about to teach him a lesson, too.
I headed straight for the basement. Sure enough, the door was locked, but the key hung from the hook next to the door.
I knocked softly, and Mom’s relieved voice came through the wood.
“Honey, is that you?” she whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom,” I said. “Hang tight, we’re getting you out of there.”
I unlocked the door, and when my mother stepped out, she didn’t even look mad. She just looked tired. But there was a glint in her eye, like she wanted to get revenge on my father, too.
“Dad’s still in the living room,” I said. “He didn’t even hear me come in.”
“Oh? He’s still enjoying his victory, then?”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to be short-lived, Mom,” I said.
There’s one thing about my father: he loves his “throne.” It’s a ridiculous electric recliner that he spent way too much money on a few years ago. He loves it more than any person in the world, which is sad and pathetic, but true.
The chair has heated seats, a massage feature, and even USB ports. He treats it like it’s something sacred in our home.
Naturally, I aimed my revenge at it.
I told my mom the plan, and she laughed nervously. We crept toward the living room where Dad was zoned out, still glued to his game, digging into his dinner.
I quietly unplugged his precious chair from the wall. And the best part? This man didn’t even notice a thing. Then, with my mom watching, I pulled a little tube of super glue that I had taken from the kitchen.
I smeared it over the chair’s buttons, still absolutely perplexed that my father didn’t register that I was in the room, right next to him.
After that, Mom and I went back to the kitchen. We sat on the bar stools in silence as Mom opened a tub of cookies for us to nibble on.
Ten minutes later, the game went to half-time. We could hear Dad shift in his chair and he tried to press the recline button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
“What the heck?” he grumbled, fiddling with the controls. Then, I saw it. The moment when the realization hit him.
He started pulling at the armrests, trying to get up, but his hands were stuck. His face turned from confusion to full-on panic.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Mom asked, strolling into the living room.
“The darn chair is broken!” he complained.
“Oh, really? Maybe because you overuse it. But wasn’t it fine before you locked me in the basement?” Mom asked.
My father’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t… Wait! How did you get out?” he asked.
“Annie,” Mom said simply.
I stepped out from my spot in the kitchen, where I had been recording their conversation.
“Smile for the camera, Dad,” I said. “This is going in the family group chat!”
“You wouldn’t dare, Annie!” he barked at me, tugging helplessly at his stuck hands.
“Oh, but I would,” I said.
I pressed send, and the replies started rolling in soon. If there was one thing my father hated, it was being seen beyond his usual façade. He didn’t want people to see the real him. And this was him, an ugly person.
“I’m taking Mom home with me for the rest of the weekend,” I said. “You can figure out how to get yourself off your throne.”
Mom went upstairs to pack herself an overnight bag. I didn’t want to leave her with Dad. But I doubt he’ll be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.
What would you have done?
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