#MysteryAndTerror

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Old Stone House October 31, 2024 Shaina Tranquilino

The night was colder than any Halloween Jonah could remember. A damp chill clung to the air, and a thick fog crept through the empty streets, swallowing the sounds of laughing children and the cheerful glow of jack-o'-lanterns.

Jonah had never been one for Halloween. At seventeen, he thought he was too old for it, but his younger sister, Maddy, insisted he walk with her while she trick-or-treated with her friends. He obliged, but only because he knew she’d been spooked by rumors of the "Old Stone House" on Maplewood Avenue. Just a few blocks away, the house sat abandoned, forgotten and blackened by years of dust and neglect. Kids whispered that it was haunted by the spirit of a woman who vanished on Halloween night, decades ago.

At the end of the night, Jonah and Maddy were on their way home when she halted suddenly in the middle of the foggy road.

“What is it?” Jonah asked.

Maddy pointed, wide-eyed, across the street. The Old Stone House loomed, its shadowed form barely visible through the mist. For a brief moment, Jonah thought he saw movement in one of the windows—a flash of white, like a figure in a long dress.

“Did you see that?” Maddy whispered.

Jonah squinted. There was nothing. Just a dark window in an empty house. “It’s just your imagination. C’mon, let’s go home.”

But Maddy wouldn’t budge. She seemed mesmerized, as if something called to her from within the house. “Please, Jonah,” she said softly, her voice a strange, vacant whisper. “I just want to see inside…just a little closer.”

Jonah sighed, knowing it would be faster to humor her than to argue. Together, they crossed the street and approached the Old Stone House. Up close, it felt even colder, and the air carried a musty, damp smell, like rotten wood and something metallic.

The door was cracked open. Jonah stepped forward to pull Maddy back, but she had already pushed the door wider, slipping into the shadows within.

“Maddy!” he hissed, following her inside.

Inside, it was pitch black, and the quiet was oppressive, thick enough to press against his ears. The faint light from the street cast weak, flickering shadows across the walls, revealing tattered wallpaper, broken furniture, and dust swirling in the air. Jonah felt the weight of the silence bearing down, as if the house were watching him.

“Maddy!” he whispered again, louder this time.

A soft giggle drifted from upstairs. It was Maddy’s voice, yet it sounded wrong—too slow, too drawn-out, like a recording played at the wrong speed. Jonah’s stomach twisted, but he forced himself to climb the creaking staircase, calling her name as he went.

At the top of the stairs, he found himself in a long, narrow hallway. Faded portraits lined the walls, their subjects’ faces blurred, indistinct. One by one, the shadows seemed to turn toward him, eyes following his every step.

“Jonah…” Maddy’s voice came again, muffled and distant, calling from the last door at the end of the hall. As he approached, he felt something cold brush against his neck. He spun, but there was no one there—only the shadows, growing darker.

He hesitated before the door, then pushed it open.

Inside was a small room with a single bed, a cracked mirror, and dust-covered shelves. Maddy was standing by the window, her back to him, gazing out into the fog.

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief, stepping closer. “Maddy, let’s go.”

She didn’t move. Her shoulders were trembling, her head slightly tilted to one side.

“Maddy?” he repeated, reaching out.

When she finally turned around, his blood ran cold. Her face was blank, her eyes wide and staring, and there was something terribly wrong about her mouth—her lips were stretched into an unnatural smile, as though forced there, like a mask painted on her skin.

“Hello, Jonah,” she whispered, though her lips didn’t move.

His breath caught. That voice wasn’t Maddy’s. It was rough, cold, and seemed to scratch its way up from somewhere deep in her throat.

“Maddy…stop it. This isn’t funny,” he stammered, backing away.

She took a step forward, then another, her head tilting unnaturally with each step. Her eyes never blinked. Her arms hung limp at her sides, swaying with each shuffling step.

“Come closer, Jonah,” she whispered. “Don’t you want to stay with me? Forever?”

Suddenly, her hand shot out, fingers clawing at his arm with an iron grip. Jonah gasped, trying to pull free, but her strength was unnatural, as though something else was fueling her from within.

With a burst of adrenaline, he broke away, stumbling out of the room and down the hall. Behind him, he heard her following, her footsteps slow but steady, that hideous smile burned into his mind. He threw himself down the stairs, nearly tripping in his panic, and burst through the front door, out into the foggy night.

When he turned around, the Old Stone House was quiet, dark, and empty.

Maddy was gone.

He called her name, but the house was silent, its windows staring back like empty eyes. He searched for her, yelling her name until his throat was raw, but there was no trace of her—no footsteps, no voice, only the faintest echo of that cold, ghostly whisper.

“Forever…” it murmured, drifting through the fog as the house stood, still and waiting.

By morning, the Old Stone House was empty once more, but those who passed by swore they saw a new face in the window—a young girl, her eyes vacant, her smile unnaturally wide, watching.