“Never Play a Game Called Corpse Hold”

Every town has its share of weird stories, and ours was no different. There were tales of ghost lights over the swamps, the occasional Bigfoot sighting, and, of course, the game Corpse Hold. That was the one everyone whispered about, but no one admitted to knowing too much about—at least, not until you were “old enough to be trusted.”

The rules of the game were simple but horrifying. You were supposed to find a witness—someone who’d done it before. Then, under their supervision, you’d go out to a particular pond after dark, wade into the water, and touch a corpse that supposedly lay at the bottom. Not just touch it, though. Both hands had to stay on the body for a full hour. No breaks, no pulling away, no excuses. If you messed up, you had to start over.

The legend says the corpse never decomposes, no matter how long it’s been there. People whispered that it was decades old, maybe more, but no one seemed to know where it came from or why it stayed preserved. The kids who’d done it swore by its power, claiming it brought them wealth, luck, and protection. But there were just as many stories about the ones who’d failed—how they’d been cursed, gone missing, or died in gruesome ways.

I always thought it was just a stupid urban legend. A way for older kids to scare the younger ones or keep them out of the woods at night. I even laughed about it with my friends, saying things like, “Yeah, I’ll play it when pigs fly.” But when I turned thirteen, everything changed.

One summer night, I was hanging out at the old baseball diamond with some of the neighborhood kids. It was one of those humid nights where the air sticks to your skin and the mosquitoes are relentless. We were talking about nothing in particular when Eddie, one of the older boys, leaned in close and said, “You ever hear about Corpse Hold?”

Everyone went quiet. Even the bugs fell silent for a second.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What about it?”

Eddie smirked. “You think you’ve got what it takes to play?”

I laughed nervously. “What, you mean touching some dead guy for an hour? Sounds like a joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” Eddie said, his voice suddenly serious. “It’s real. And if you’ve got the guts, we can take you tonight.”

The others started chiming in, some goading me on, others looking uneasy. I could feel the group closing in, their expectations weighing on me. I didn’t want to seem scared or weak, but something about the way Eddie said it sent a chill down my spine.

“What happens if I don’t?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Eddie shrugged. “Nothing. But you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

He said it like he knew something I didn’t, like there was a secret only people who played the game could understand. That’s what did it for me. It wasn’t the promise of fortune or luck—it was the idea that I might miss out on something big.

I nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The group broke into cheers and jeers, slapping me on the back and congratulating me like I’d just won a prize. But I didn’t feel like a winner. I felt like a mouse walking into a trap.

* * * * * *

We met later that night at the edge of the woods, where the dirt trail to the pond began. Eddie was waiting there with the others—Sammy, Kyle, and Maria. They were older than me by a year or two, the kind of kids who made you want to act braver than you were. They had flashlights, snacks stuffed into their backpacks, and a confidence that didn’t quite match the uneasiness in their eyes.

Eddie handed me a flashlight. “You ready for this?”

I nodded, but my stomach was in knots.

The trail was narrow, cutting through tall grass and clusters of trees. Every snap of a twig made me jump, but the others just kept walking, their flashlights bouncing in the dark like fireflies. Nobody talked much. It was as if the gravity of what we were about to do was sinking in for everyone, even the ones who’d done it before.

“What’s the deal with this pond, anyway?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Why there?”

Maria glanced over her shoulder. “Because that’s where he is.”

“He?”

“The corpse,” she said, like it was obvious. “You’ll see.”

That shut me up for a while.

The pond appeared suddenly, framed by trees like a dark mirror. The air was cooler here, with a dampness that clung to my skin. Eddie pointed his flashlight at the still black water, the beam cutting through the surface, but not revealing much.

“Alright,” Eddie said, turning to me. “Here’s how this works.”

The group circled around, their faces grave. Even Kyle, who was usually cracking jokes, appeared solemn.

“Rule one,” Eddie began, “this has to happen at night. No exceptions. It’s the only time he’s…active.”

I swallowed hard. “Active how?”

“You’ll find out,” Eddie said, brushing off my question. “Rule two: you have to keep both hands on the corpse at all times. No breaks, no pulling away. If you lose contact, you start over.”

Sammy chimed in. “And trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Rule three,” Eddie continued, “there has to be a witness. Someone who’s already done it. That’s me. And rule four—you don’t back out. Once you start, you finish. Failure is not an option.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a threat.

“What happens if I back out?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, his expression bleak. “You don’t want to know.”

I looked at the others, hoping for some reassurance, but they just stood there, silent and unmoving.

Before I could ask anything else, the group started wading into the pond. The water was colder than I expected, soaking through my jeans and shoes as we moved deeper. It came up to my waist before Eddie stopped and turned his flashlight toward the middle of the pond.

At first, I didn’t see anything. Just water rippling under the light. Then he appeared.

A man, whom I’d never seen before, and who no one had mentioned, crept out of the shadows at the far end of the pond like he’d been waiting there all along. He was tall and thin, with a face that was too pale and eyes that didn’t reflect the light.

I glanced at Eddie, expecting him to be as nervous as I was, but he wasn’t. Instead, he appeared calm and unbothered. His expression said it all: he was expecting this.

“Uh… what’s going on?” I asked, my confidence wavering. “E-Eddie, you’re, uh… you’re seeing this… right?”

He didn’t answer. Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to face the man. His clothes were soaked, clinging to his bony frame, and he was grinning, an unsettling sort of smile that made my stomach drop.

“Who’s this?” the stranger asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Eddie stepped aside, motioning to me. “He’s the one.”

The man nodded, then waded toward me with slow, deliberate movements. The water barely rippled around him, like it didn’t dare touch him more than it had to. When he reached me, he extended a hand.

I hesitated, but Eddie nudged me forward. “Take it.”

I did. His grip was cold and firm, like holding onto a fistful of icicles. He led me deeper into the pond, his other hand gripping my shoulder to steady me.

“Don’t move,” he said, stopping abruptly.

Then he plunged his arm into the water.

The sound of it made my chest tighten—a wet, sucking noise as his hand disappeared beneath the surface. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he pulled, and the corpse came into view.

The man pulled with slow, steady force, and the corpse emerged from the black water. I don’t know what I expected—maybe something bloated or skeletal—but this wasn’t like that.

The body looked… intact. Its skin was pale and rubbery, stretched tightly over its frame like it had been dipped in wax. Its clothes were old-fashioned—suspenders and a button-up shirt that clung wetly to its chest. Its eyes were closed, its mouth slightly open, and its hair, dark and slick, was plastered to its head.

“How is it not rotting?” I whispered.

“Doesn’t rot,” Eddie said behind me. His voice sounded far away, like he didn’t want to be any closer than he had to be.

The man—no one ever told me his name, if he even had one—placed both of his hands under the corpse’s arms, holding it upright. The water lapped gently against its torso, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

“Step forward,” the man said.

My legs felt like they’d turned to stone. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get out of that water and never come back. But Eddie was standing behind me, and when I glanced back, his expression was firm. There was no way I was backing out now.

I took a shaky step closer, and the man guided my hands toward the corpse’s chest.

The second I touched it, I regretted everything.

The skin was ice-cold, slimy but firm, with the texture of wet rubber. My stomach churned, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from gagging.

“Both hands,” the man said.

I placed my other hand on the corpse, my palms flat against its chest. The water rippled around us, and I swear I felt something shift beneath my palms.

“Keep them there,” the man continued. “Don’t move, no matter what.”

I nodded, too scared to speak.

“Your hour starts now!” Eddie called from the shore.

The first few minutes passed in agonizing silence. The corpse didn’t move, but the sensation of touching it was unbearable. My hands were stiff and numb, and my mind was racing, conjuring every horror story I’d ever heard about spirits, curses, and the vengeful dead.

I tried to distract myself by focusing on the sounds around me—the croak of frogs, the buzz of insects, the occasional rustling of leaves. But the stillness of the pond was oppressive, and every tiny sound felt amplified.

Then came the whispers.

At first, I thought it was the wind. I was wrong. They were words, low and guttural, spoken in a language I didn’t recognize by someone—or something—that wasn’t human. And even as they grew clearer, I couldn’t understand them.

I glanced at the man, but he didn’t react. His focus was entirely on the corpse, his pale eyes unblinking.

“Do you hear that?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He didn’t answer.

My hands began to cramp, and I shifted my weight, trying to stay steady in the water. As the minutes crawled by, the whispers grew louder and more insistent. They weren’t coming from the man or from Eddie. They were coming from the corpse.

“Stay still!” the man said sharply, his voice cutting through the whispers.

I froze.

Somewhere around the halfway mark, something changed. The corpse shifted.

It was subtle at first—a slight movement beneath my hands, like a muscle twitching. I told myself it was just my imagination, that the cold, the water, and the darkness were playing tricks on me.

But then it moved again, stronger this time. Its chest rose slightly, as if taking a breath.

I panicked and jerked my hands away.

“No!” the man barked, his voice louder than I’d thought possible. “Put them back! Now!”

My heart pounded as I slapped my hands back onto the corpse. It felt different this time—colder, heavier, almost like it was leaning into me.

“Do not break contact again,” the man warned.

Eddie called out from the shore. “You’re back at the start! Keep going!”

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him I was done, but something about the man’s stare kept me rooted in place. There was no escape now.

The second attempt was worse.

The whispers grew louder, a maddening cacophony of disembodied voices carried on the wind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they burrowed into my mind, relentless and alien. All the while, the corpse continued to twitch, moving in small but deliberate ways that made my skin crawl.

At one point, its fingers brushed my arm, and I nearly lost it. My legs trembled, and I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they might crack.

“Almost there,” the man said. “Whatever you do, do not let go.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

When Eddie finally called out, “Time’s up!” I didn’t believe him. It felt like the hour had stretched into eternity.

The man gently pulled my quivering hands away from the corpse, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I took a deep breath. Delirious, I stumbled back toward the shore, barely able to keep my footing in the water.

The man didn’t follow. He stayed beside the corpse, his pale eyes watching me until I reached the others.

“Congratulations,” Eddie said, clapping me on the back. “You did it!”

I didn’t feel like I’d won anything.

I was barely out of the water, my legs shaking and my chest heaving, when the next kid stepped forward. His name was Mark, and I could tell he didn’t want to play the game. His face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, but Eddie clapped him on the back and muttered something I couldn’t hear. Mark gave a short nod, though his hands trembled as he stepped into the pond.

The man was still standing in the water, the corpse floating upright beside him as if tethered there by some invisible force. He motioned for Mark to come closer, and Mark hesitated, his steps faltering.

“Come on,” Eddie said sharply from behind me. “You agreed to this.”

Mark glanced back at us, his eyes wide with fear, but he kept moving. When he reached the corpse, the man grabbed his wrists and pressed his hands onto its chest, just like he’d done with me.

“Don’t move,” the man said, his voice low and stern.

Mark nodded, swallowing hard.

The first few minutes were uneventful. Mark stood there with his hands on the corpse, his shoulders tense and his breathing shallow. Eddie and the others watched from the shore, their expressions unreadable. I stayed silent, my legs still feeling like jelly.

But then the whispers started again.

I could see it in Mark’s face—the way his eyes darted around, like he was trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from. His fingers twitched involuntarily against the corpse’s chest.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Focus!” the man snapped.

Mark flinched but didn’t let go.

The whispers grew louder, and I could see the panic building in Mark’s eyes. He started to shift his weight from foot to foot, his movements becoming more erratic.

Then the corpse moved.

Its arm twitched, just a small jerk at first, but enough to make Mark freeze. He stared at it, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Another twitch, this time in its fingers.

“Nope!” Mark said, shaking his head. “I’m out!”

“Don’t!” the man growled, but Mark was already backing away.

The corpse’s hand shot out, gripping Mark’s wrist.

Mark screamed, a high-pitched, panicked sound that sent chills down my spine. He tried to pull away, but the corpse’s grip was unyielding. The man didn’t move to help—he just stood there, watching with an expression that was disturbingly calm.

“Let go!” Mark shouted, yanking his arm back with all his strength. The corpse’s grip broke, and Mark stumbled backward, falling into the water. He scrambled back to his feet, his eyes wild.

“I said I’m done!” he yelled, backing away toward the shore. “I’m not doing this!”

The man’s expression darkened, but he said nothing as Mark splashed past him and bolted out of the water.

The rest of us stood in stunned silence as Mark grabbed his shoes and ran into the woods, disappearing down the trail. Eddie cursed under his breath, shaking his head.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Maria said quietly.

“What happens now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

No one answered.

The man waded back toward the center of the pond, the corpse following him like a loyal dog. He sank into the water until only his head was visible, then disappeared completely, leaving the pond still and silent once again.

“Let’s go,” Eddie said, his voice tight. “We’re done here.”

We packed up in silence and made our way back through the woods. The weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air, and no one spoke.

* * * * * *

The next day, I found out what happens when you break the rules.

Mark’s body was discovered near the riverbank, about a mile from the pond. The official story was that he’d drowned, but the details didn’t add up. His body was bloated, his skin pale and slick, like it had been submerged for days. His arm—the one the corpse had grabbed—was bent at an unnatural angle, the skin dark and mottled.

Eddie pulled me aside at school, a stern expression on his face. “Don’t say anything about last night,” he warned. “Not to anyone. Got it?”

I nodded, too frightened to argue.

The whispers about Mark’s death spread quickly, but no one mentioned Corpse Hold. The group acted like nothing had happened, but I could see the fear in their eyes. We all knew the truth, even if we didn’t say it out loud.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the corpse’s hand gripping Mark’s wrist, its pale, lifeless fingers digging into his skin. I heard his screams, the splashing of water, the whispers in the dark.

I thought about the man, how he’d disappeared into the pond like he was part of it, like he belonged there. And I thought about Mark, about the look on his face when he ran, when he broke the rules.

I realized then that there was no escaping Corpse Hold. Once you played, you were in it for life—whether you won or lost.

I didn’t leave my house for the next few days. I couldn’t. Every time I thought about stepping outside, my chest tightened, and my legs felt like they were locked in place. I kept replaying the events at the pond in my head—the corpse’s cold, rubbery skin, the whispers that had embedded themselves in my head, the way Mark had screamed as the thing clutched his arm.

I thought the fear would fade, but it didn’t. If anything, it got worse. At night, I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, my ears straining to pick up sounds that weren’t there. I began to notice small things—shadows that seemed to move when I wasn’t looking, strange creaks in the floorboards. I felt like I was being surveilled.

My parents chalked it up to nerves. They thought I was just upset about Mark’s death, which made sense. Everyone in town was talking about it—how he’d been found by the river, how the sheriff thought it was an accident, how tragic it was to lose someone so young. But I knew the truth, and it was eating me alive.

Eddie and the others acted like nothing had happened. When I saw them at school, they smiled, laughed, and carried on like normal. But when I caught Eddie’s eye, I saw it—the same fear I felt. He didn’t say anything to me, but his expression was clear: Don’t talk about it. Don’t even think about it.

* * * * * *

About a week after the ritual, things started to change.

It was subtle at first. I found a $20 bill on the sidewalk on my way home from school. I aced a math quiz I hadn’t studied for. The neighbor’s dog, who usually barked at me, wagged his tail and let me pet him.

At first, I thought it was just a coincidence. But then it kept happening.

My mom won a raffle at the grocery store—$500 in gift cards. My dad’s old truck, which had been acting up for months, suddenly started running like new. And me? I couldn’t lose. Every test, every game, every little thing I tried my hand at—it all went my way.

I should’ve been happy. I should’ve felt like it was all worth it. But I didn’t.

The luck didn’t feel like mine. It felt borrowed, like it could be taken away at any moment. And no matter how much good came my way, the dread never subsided.

One night, I woke up to a sound outside my window. It wasn’t loud—just a faint tapping, like fingernails against glass.

I froze. Slowly, I turned my head, expecting to see a tree branch or a bird. But there was nothing there.

Just darkness.

The tapping stopped, but the feeling didn’t go away. I lay there for hours, too terrified to move, until the first light of dawn crept through the blinds.

The next day, I ran into Eddie after school. He pulled me aside, away from the others, and lowered his voice.

“You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?” he asked.

“Noticed what?”

“The way things feel… different.”

I hesitated. “You mean the luck?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. But it’s not just that. It’s like something’s always there, watching. Waiting.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Eddie shrugged. “You keep your mouth shut, and you hope for the best.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all you can do,” he said, his tone grim. “You think this is over just because you finished the game? It’s never over.”

I tried to put his words out of my mind, but they stuck with me. Everywhere I went, I felt it. Even when things went right, it felt wrong, like I was being rewarded for something I didn’t deserve.

Then, one afternoon, I saw Maria walking home from school. She was alone, her face pale and drawn.

“Maria!” I called out, jogging to catch up with her.

She stopped and turned, her eyes wide. “What?”

“Have you felt it, too?” I asked. “The… watching?”

She nodded slowly, glancing over her shoulder. “It doesn’t stop. It never stops.”

“Why don’t we tell someone?” I asked. “What if we—”

“No,” she said sharply, cutting me off. “You don’t tell anyone. You don’t even think about telling anyone. Do you understand?”

Her voice trembled, and for the first time, I saw tears in her eyes.

“Why not?” I pressed.

“Because they’ll know,” she whispered. “They’ll come for you. And you won’t be so lucky anymore.”

That night, I dreamed about the pond. I saw the man standing in the water, his pale eyes locked on mine. The corpse was beside him, its face turned toward me, its mouth moving soundlessly.

I woke up drenched in sweat, the whispers still echoing in my ears.

The next morning, I found another twenty-dollar bill on my way to school.

* * * * * *

A few weeks passed, and the good fortune kept on coming. My family’s broken air conditioner seemingly repaired itself overnight. A distant uncle I barely knew sent me a birthday card with a crisp $100 bill inside—even though it wasn’t my birthday. Little things like that kept happening, one after another, until I could no longer ignore the pattern.

But the feeling of being monitored remained. Sometimes, late at night, I’d hear faint whispers coming from nowhere, just like the ones at the pond. I’d tell myself it was the wind, or maybe the house settling, but deep down, I knew better. Things were escalating.

One night, I decided to confront Eddie about it. I waited until after school, catching him as he was unlocking his bike.

“Eddie,” I said, keeping my voice low, “I need to know. What’s the deal with the game? The man? The… thing in the pond?”

Eddie looked around quickly, making sure no one else was listening, then sighed. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“I think I deserve to know,” I said.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But you can’t ask me about this again. Ever.”

We sat at the edge of the school parking lot, far enough away from everyone else. Eddie glanced around one more time before speaking.

“They say the corpse has been there for decades, maybe longer. No one knows how it got there or why it doesn’t decompose. Some think it’s cursed. Others think it’s… something else.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Something inhuman,” Eddie said flatly.

I felt a chill run through me.

“And the man?”

“He’s always been part of it,” Eddie continued. “Every group that’s ever played the game talks about him, but no one knows who he is. Some people think he’s a spirit, like the corpse. Others think he’s just… a man. But whatever he is, he’s tied to the pond. He never leaves.”

I thought about the way the man had disappeared into the water, how he’d seemed to sink without a trace, and shivered.

“What happens if you back out?” I asked.

“You saw what happened to Mark,” Eddie said.

“Yeah… but why?”

Eddie stared at me for a long moment before answering. “Corpse Hold is more than a game. It’s a ritual. And when you start it, you make a deal. If you follow the rules, you get what you were promised. But if you break them…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Eddie’s words swirled in my head, mixing with the memories of the pond, the corpse, and the man. I kept trying to make sense of it, but the more I thought about it, the less it made.

I remembered something Maria had said after Mark’s death: They’ll know. They’ll come for you.

Who were they?

The whispers started again, faint but insistent. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the blanket over my head, trying to block them out.

You finished the game, I thought. You followed the rules. You’re safe.

But I didn’t feel safe.

* * * * * *

The next morning, I decided to go back to the pond. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I just grabbed a flashlight and headed out.

The trail felt longer this time, the trees darker, the air heavier. When I arrived, I stopped at the edge, staring at the still water. It looked the same as before, but felt… different.

I stepped into the water, wincing as the cold seeped through my shoes. The surface rippled around me as I waded deeper, my flashlight beam cutting through the blackness.

“Who are you?” I called out, my voice shaking. “Tell me what you want!”

No one answered.

But then, just as I was about to turn back, the whispers started again. Louder this time, clearer.

I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing. My flashlight flickered, and for a split second, I thought I saw something—two pale eyes staring at me from beneath the surface.

I didn’t wait to see more. I turned and ran, splashing through the water and up the trail.

When I got home, I locked my bedroom door and sat on my bed, trembling.

That was the last time I went to the pond. I didn’t tell Eddie or Maria what I’d done. I didn’t tell anyone.

But I knew one thing for certain: Corpse Hold isn’t just a game. It’s something ancient and otherworldly, and I had been stupid enough to get involved.

Now, I can only hope the whispers will fade, that the eyes will stop watching. But deep down, I know they won’t.

Because once you hold the corpse, you can never let go.