The Haunted Holiday: A Chilling Winter Tale

Table of Contents

Uncovering the Mystery of Frostvale Inn’s Ghostly Carolers

Snowflakes drifted softly across the cobblestone streets of Wintervale, a small mountain town known for its breathtaking scenery and cozy holiday charm. The townspeople had strung up twinkling lights, wreaths adorned every door, and the smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air. It was the perfect holiday destination—or at least, it seemed that way.

Jessica, a travel blogger who loved uncovering hidden gems and mysterious legends, had come to Wintervale to document its annual “Holiday of Lights” festival. She had booked a stay at the historic Frostvale Inn, a grand, old-fashioned hotel perched on the edge of town. Though charming, the inn carried a strange reputation. Some guests whispered about ghostly carolers, flickering lights, and sudden chills in the night. Jessica didn’t believe in such things; she was here for content, not ghost stories.

“I’ll have plenty of material,” she murmured, snapping a photo of the glowing lobby tree. “This place is perfect.”

The innkeeper, a gray-haired woman named Mrs. Holloway, smiled warmly. “Be sure to enjoy the festivities, dear. But if you hear singing after midnight… best to stay in your room.”

Jessica chuckled. “Ghostly carolers, right? I read about that legend online.”

Mrs. Holloway’s smile faded slightly. “It’s not a legend, my dear. It’s a warning.”

Brushing off the eerie comment, Jessica headed up to her room. It was cozy, with a crackling fireplace and a window overlooking the snowy street below. She set down her suitcase, opened her laptop, and began typing notes for her blog post. But as the clock ticked toward midnight, the air grew cold. Her breath became visible in the room’s dim light.

Then, faintly, she heard it—a melody drifting from somewhere in the hallway. Soft, haunting, beautiful. Caroling.

Jessica froze. “No way… someone’s just being festive,” she told herself, grabbing her phone. But when she peeked into the hallway, there was no one there. The singing, however, grew clearer—closer.

“Silent night… holy night…”

Her heart pounded. “Hello? Is someone out there?”

No answer. The melody continued, echoing through the old wooden halls. Jessica shut her door and locked it, retreating to her bed. “It’s fine. Probably guests having fun,” she whispered, though her voice trembled. She turned on her laptop for distraction—but the screen glitched, and for a brief second, she saw an image she hadn’t opened: a group of shadowy figures holding candles, staring directly at her.

“What the—?” She slammed the lid shut. The singing stopped.

Jessica barely slept that night. When she came down for breakfast, Mrs. Holloway noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Rough night, dear?”

“You could say that. Someone was singing outside my room at midnight.”

Mrs. Holloway set down her teapot. “Did you see them?”

“No. But I heard them.”

The innkeeper sighed. “Then they’ve noticed you.”

Jessica frowned. “What does that mean?”

“The carolers only visit those they wish to welcome into their song.”

Jessica laughed nervously. “You make it sound like they’re recruiting.”

“In a way… they are.”

Jessica decided she needed a break. She bundled up and headed into town, determined to focus on the festival. The streets were alive with joy—kids sledding, couples sipping cocoa, carolers singing cheerful tunes. Nothing about it felt haunted. Maybe she’d overreacted. She spent hours taking pictures of the lights, the markets, and the glowing ice sculptures in the town square.

At a small coffee shop, she met Ethan, a local historian who’d written a book about Wintervale’s strange past. He was in his mid-thirties, friendly, with an old-fashioned charm. They struck up a conversation, and when Jessica mentioned the Frostvale Inn, Ethan’s expression darkened.

“You’re staying there? During the Holiday of Lights?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“There’s a reason most locals don’t. The original Frostvale family disappeared one Christmas Eve over a century ago. Their guests claimed they left to join the midnight carolers. No one saw them again.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “So the legend’s real?”

“Depends what you believe. But every few years, someone reports hearing that same carol. And sometimes…” He hesitated. “Sometimes, they vanish too.”

Jessica felt a chill. “You think I’m next?”

Ethan gave a weak smile. “I hope not. But if you hear them again, don’t follow the song.”

Later that day, Jessica explored the edge of town. She followed a snowy trail that led to a frozen lake surrounded by pine trees. It was quiet, almost too quiet. As she snapped photos, she noticed a cluster of candles set along the shore, their flames steady despite the wind. Beside them lay an old wreath, frozen solid. A plaque nearby read: In memory of those who joined the song.

Jessica crouched, brushing away snow from the inscription. “This is getting creepier by the minute,” she whispered. She took a quick picture for her notes, unaware of the faint singing that began behind her until she turned—and saw no one there.

Back at the inn, she uploaded her photos. But one image made her stop cold—the picture of the candles showed more than she’d seen. In the background, faint but clear, were silhouettes holding candles, their faces indistinct, their eyes glowing pale blue.

Jessica’s stomach twisted. “That’s impossible… I didn’t see anyone.”

Night came quickly, and Jessica found herself torn between curiosity and fear. She stayed up editing photos, trying to ignore the growing anxiety gnawing at her. Midnight approached. The clock struck twelve—and again, the melody began. Louder this time. Clearer. And this time, her door wasn’t locked.

She covered her ears, but it didn’t help. The song filled the room, vibrating through the walls. Her phone lit up with a notification: a video file. Confused, she tapped it open. The screen showed her hallway—empty—then slowly panned toward her door. As the camera drew closer, she realized the feed wasn’t recorded. It was live.

Someone—or something—was outside her room.

“Ethan,” she whispered, calling him. No answer. The video flickered. The door handle turned.

Jessica backed away, clutching her phone. The singing swelled, angelic yet mournful. “Come join us… come sing with us…”

“No!” she cried, darting toward the window. Outside, snow fell softly, blanketing the silent street. She tried opening the latch—it wouldn’t budge. The door creaked open behind her, spilling in a cold blue light. Figures in Victorian clothing stood there, holding candles, faces pale and eyes hollow.

“Jessica,” one of them whispered. “We’ve been waiting.”

“Stay away!” she shouted, grabbing a fire poker from the hearth. But as she swung, they vanished like mist. The room fell silent once more. Trembling, Jessica collapsed by the window, sobbing.

When she finally drifted to sleep near dawn, she dreamt of walking through the snowy woods, following the carolers’ song toward the lake. In her dream, she saw Ethan among them, singing softly, eyes glowing blue. He reached out to her, and she felt herself fading into light.

Jessica woke with a gasp. The fire had gone out, and her breath fogged the air. The dream had felt so real. Her phone buzzed beside her—an unread message from Ethan.

Meet me at the lake. Before they find you.

Her pulse raced. Was it real? She hesitated, staring at the snow outside. Curiosity overcame fear. She bundled up, grabbed her flashlight, and stepped into the cold night.

The town was silent. The festival lights flickered faintly, casting eerie glows on the snowdrifts. She followed the winding road past the chapel, past the frozen square, and into the woods. The trees loomed tall, branches heavy with snow. The deeper she went, the louder the song became. The same haunting carol. Voices overlapping in perfect harmony.

“Ethan?” she called. No answer. Only the melody.

Then she saw it—the lake, frozen under the moonlight, surrounded by candles that burned with a pale blue flame. Ethan stood near the shore, his breath misting in the cold.

“Ethan!” she cried, running toward him. “What’s happening?”

He turned, eyes sad. “I told you not to follow the song.”

“You texted me!” she snapped, pulling out her phone. But the message was gone.

He shook his head slowly. “They’re calling you. Once they choose you, it’s hard to resist.”

“What are they? Ghosts?”

“Spirits. Lost souls. The Frostvale family was the first, but not the last. Every winter, the song grows stronger.” He stepped closer. “You have to leave before dawn. If you stay one more night, you’ll never leave this town.”

Jessica swallowed hard. “Then come with me.”

Ethan looked down. “I can’t.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t left this place in over fifty years.”

Before she could respond, the singing surged, echoing across the lake. Shapes emerged from the mist—dozens of them, holding candles, moving in perfect rhythm. Their song wrapped around Jessica like a cold wind. She stumbled back, dizzy, the world spinning.

“Jessica!” Ethan shouted. “Run!”

She turned, sprinting through the snow. Behind her, the voices rose, pleading, beckoning. “Join us… join us…” Her flashlight flickered and died. Panic surged. She tripped, tumbling into a snowbank. The last thing she saw before blacking out was the faint glow of candles closing in.

When she opened her eyes, sunlight streamed through the window of her room at Frostvale Inn. She sat up, heart pounding. “It was a dream,” she whispered. But when she looked down, her boots were soaked, her coat covered in snow. On the nightstand lay a single candle, still smoking.

Jessica decided she’d had enough. She packed her bags and hurried downstairs. “I’m checking out,” she told Mrs. Holloway.

The innkeeper nodded solemnly. “I understand. Few stay after the second night.”

“Second night?” Jessica frowned. “It’s only been one.”

Mrs. Holloway’s eyes softened. “My dear, you’ve been here three days.”

Jessica’s heart skipped. “What? No, I—” She checked her phone. The date had jumped ahead. Three days gone. No memory.

Panicked, she fled into town. She found Ethan at the bookstore and rushed up to him. “Ethan, something’s wrong. I lost days!”

Ethan looked startled. “Jessica? You were supposed to meet me yesterday. I thought you left town.”

“No, I—wait.” She paused, noticing something odd. Ethan looked older, paler. The shop around them… dustier. Out the window, the streets were empty. No festival. No lights. Just snow and silence.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

Ethan’s expression turned sorrowful. “You shouldn’t have opened the door, Jessica.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached out, his hand passing through hers like smoke. “You’re part of the song now.”

Her eyes widened. “No… no, that’s impossible—”

Outside, faint voices began to sing. “Silent night… holy night…” Jessica turned toward the window and saw her reflection—pale, hollow-eyed, candle in hand.

As the melody swelled, her voice joined theirs, soft and haunting, carried on the winter wind.

The next year, a new traveler checked into Frostvale Inn, drawn by its holiday charm. At midnight, they heard singing in the halls—gentle, mournful, and faintly familiar. Among the ghostly carolers, a new voice harmonized—one that sounded like Jessica’s.

And thus, the haunted holiday continued, the melody forever echoing through the snowy town of Wintervale.