Short Horror Stories

Ring a Ring O' Roses

The town of Black Hollow was nestled between two mountains, isolated from the rest of the world. With a population of just a few hundred, everyone knew everyone else. Children roamed free, playing their games in the fields and streets. One favorite game was "Ring a Ring O' Roses." They would join hands, sing, and then collapse into giggles at the end.

Then, the plague arrived.

One by one, homes displayed white roses on their doors, signaling that someone inside had been taken by the illness. The streets grew quieter, save for the mournful tolling of the church bell, announcing another death.

Children stopped playing outside, but one group of six couldn't resist the pull of their beloved game. Sneaking out at night, they played "Ring a Ring O' Roses" by moonlight, whispering the words so no one would hear.

One evening, as they played, a seventh child joined them—a girl in a tattered dress, her skin ashen, eyes hollow and lips blue. Without a word, she took hands with two of the children and they sang:

*Ring a ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down.*

As the last line ended, all the children collapsed, laughing softly. But when they got up, the mysterious girl was gone. The following morning, white roses adorned two more doors, the very homes of the children who had held hands with the ghostly girl.

The game became a whispered legend, a morbid allure for the young souls of Black Hollow. Night after night, children would secretly play, and every time, the ghostly girl would appear, choosing two more victims. With each morning, more white roses appeared on doors.

Parents forbade the game and enforced curfews, but the legend grew. Some nights, the wind seemed to carry the haunting echo of children's voices singing that eerie tune.

As months turned into years, the population dwindled. Black Hollow became a ghost town, its streets empty and houses decayed. But on silent, moonlit nights, if one listens closely, they might still hear the faint laughter of children and the chilling song of a ghostly game that once played amidst a plague:

Ring a ring o' roses, A pocket full of posies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down.