Short Horror Stories

The Midnight Washer

Amin, a timid thirteen-year-old, found himself thrust into the daunting world of boarding school. Having never left the comfort of his home before, the first few days were an overwhelming adjustment. The hostel, a sprawling complex housing 500 boys, felt like a labyrinth of unfamiliar faces and unspoken rules. Being the youngest, Amin quickly became a target for the older students' cruel pranks and demands.

One night, at the late hour of 11:30 PM, a senior named Zakri summoned Amin to his dorm. The bully's order was simple yet chilling: wash his filthy school uniform, and do it now. Amin's heart pounded. It wasn't the chore itself that terrified him, but the stories whispered among the younger boys. Tales of a woman's mournful wail echoing through the laundry room at midnight, a haunting presence that sent shivers down their spines.

Zakri's threats left Amin with no choice. The fear of a beating outweighed the dread of the supernatural. He hurried to the laundry room, his footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway. The clock ticked closer to midnight as he scrubbed Zakri's uniform, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sloshing of water.

Then, he heard it. A faint, almost imperceptible wail, like a distant cry carried on the wind. It grew louder with each passing moment, a haunting melody of sorrow and loss. Amin's hands trembled. He glanced nervously at the half-wall, beyond which stood a solitary frangipani tree, its white blossoms glowing in the moonlight. The cemetery tree, they called it.

Suddenly, a figure materialized beneath the tree. A woman, draped in white, her long black hair cascading down her back. Was it a trick of the light, or was she truly there? The wail intensified, emanating from her spectral form. Her eyes locked with Amin's, piercing the distance with an otherworldly intensity.

A cold dread washed over him. The figure vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence, a stillness that felt unnatural. Amin's breath hitched in his throat. Then, a whisper, a breath against his neck, "Hooo..."

He dared not turn. The woman was behind him now, her presence a suffocating chill. He couldn't move, couldn't scream. Her long, skeletal fingers caressed his hair, sending shivers down his spine. A cruel, mocking laughter erupted from her lips, echoing through the empty laundry room.

With a graceful, ethereal motion, she floated back to the frangipani tree, disappearing into the night. Amin stumbled back to his dorm, numb with terror. The next morning, Zakri's angry kick to his stomach barely registered. Amin knew then that some things were far more terrifying than bullies. The ghostly encounter had left an indelible mark on his young mind, a chilling reminder that the unseen world was closer than he ever imagined.