Chapter 9 - The Abandoned House Across the Street
Elena didn't hesitate. She sprinted out the front door, leaving Clara behind for a split second before her motherly instinct kicked in, grabbing Clara’s hand and pulling her along. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, casting long, distorted shadows across the overgrown lawns of the quiet suburban cul-de-sac.
Directly across the street sat number eighty-four—the abandoned, dilapidated Victorian house that had stood empty for thirty years since the fire. The front windows were boarded up with weathered gray plywood, and the porch steps were rotted through.
And walking right up those rotted steps, with an eerie, rhythmic stride that didn't belong to a two-year-old child, was Lily. Her purple sweatshirt stood out vividly against the rotting gray wood of the porch.
"Lily! Stop!" Elena screamed, breaking into a full sprint across the asphalt street.
The toddler didn't stop. She reached the front door of the abandoned house, pushed its heavy, decaying wooden door open with ease—despite the rusted padlock hanging from the rusted chain—and stepped inside into the pitch-black hallway.
Elena and Clara reached the porch a second later. Elena didn't care about the danger; she threw herself through the doorway after her daughter, her flashlight beam cutting through the thick, stagnant air of the abandoned ruin.
"Lily!" Elena shouted, her voice echoing off peeling wallpaper and charred wooden beams.
"Mom, look!" Clara whispered, grabbing Elena’s arm tightly.
The interior of the house was completely gutted by fire decades ago, yet the central hallway remained intact. Walking down the hallway ahead of them, illuminated by the eerie blue glow of a phone screen in her tiny hand, was Lily. But the toddler wasn't alone. Walking hand-in-hand with Lily was the translucent figure of the long-haired woman from the kitchen reflection.
The woman turned her head slowly, looking back at Elena with deep, hollow eyes. Her lips parted, and a voice echoed not from her mouth, but directly inside Elena’s and Clara’s minds.
You found my house. Now find my bones.
Before Elena could process the telepathic message, the apparition pointed toward a set of warped floorboards at the end of the hallway—right beneath the spot where the master bedroom closet of their own house aligned across the street.
Lily stopped directly over the warped floorboards, turned around to face her mother and older sister, and flashed a wide, chilling smile.
May you like
"Bad closet," Lily said, her voice dropping an octave into a harsh, adult whisper.
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