I’m a sound that echoes through the trees, I chill your spine and stir the breeze. I come from wolves when the moon is bright— What am I, in the dead of night?

I’m round and orange with a scary grin, You carve my face and put a candle within. What am I?

I’m stitched together, limb by limb, My walk is slow, my voice is grim. I was created in a lab so bare— Now I wander with a vacant stare.

I roar and I fly, I breathe fire with might, I guard my treasure and give knights a fright. What am I?

I rise from sleep when the sun goes down, I wear a cape and never frown. I fear the light and garlic’s sting— I vanish fast with silent wings.

I’m a scarecrow’s friend, a harvest guest, I ride the wind and never rest. I rustle leaves and chill the air— I whisper secrets everywhere.

I’m buried deep and rarely seen, Guarding secrets where I’ve been. I’m cold and quiet, dressed in stone— What am I, left all alone?

I creep through the graveyard, quiet as air, My clothes are torn, and I give you a scare. Who am I?

I lurk in corners, silent and sly, I spin my trap and watch you pass by. My legs are many, my movements rare— Step too close, if you dare.

I rattle in the night and rest in a box, I’m made of bones and wear no socks. What am I?

I shimmer in the dark and rise with dread, I’m neither alive nor truly dead. I drift through rooms without a care, Leaving behind a chilly air.

I’m a knock that comes when night is near, I ask for treats and bring good cheer. I wear a smile and sometimes roar— What am I, at your door?

I’m a room that’s dark and full of fear, With creaky doors and whispers near. You enter brave, but leave unsure— What am I, behind that door?