What Happened That Night

It was a cold evening in late October. The wind blew through the trees, shaking the leaves until they fell to the ground. I was walking home from my friend Lily’s house. She lived only a few blocks away, but the streets were darker than usual. The streetlights flickered, and I could hear the dry leaves crunching under my feet.

I don’t usually get scared walking alone, but something about that night felt strange. Too quiet. No cars passed by, and I didn’t even hear any dogs barking. I pulled my coat tighter around me and kept walking.

When I turned the corner onto my street, I saw something unusual. A light was on in the old Miller house. That house had been empty for years. The windows were boarded up, and the front gate was locked with a rusty chain. Everyone in the neighborhood said it was haunted, but I never believed in ghosts. Until that night.

I stopped and stared. The light was soft, glowing from the second floor. I thought maybe someone had moved in, but there were no moving trucks, no signs, and no cars in the driveway. Just that strange, flickering light.

My heart started to beat faster. I told myself to keep walking and go home, but something pulled me toward the gate. I didn’t understand why, but I walked closer. The gate, which was always locked, stood open that night. The chain lay on the ground, like it had been cut or broken.

“Just a quick look,” I told myself. “Then I’ll go home.”

I stepped through the gate. The grass was overgrown, and the steps to the porch creaked under my feet. The front door was cracked open. I pushed it slowly. It gave way with a loud creak.

Inside, the air smelled like dust and something else—something sour and old. I called out, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

No answer.

The house was dark, but I could see the light upstairs. It blinked like a candle, soft and yellow. I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the quiet. The stairs groaned with every step I took.

When I reached the top, the light was coming from the last room at the end of the hallway. The door was half open. I pushed it gently and peeked inside.

A single candle burned on the windowsill. The flame danced, casting shadows on the walls. In the middle of the room sat a chair. On it, a girl.

She looked about my age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Her long black hair hung over her shoulders, and she wore an old white dress. She didn’t move. She just sat there, staring out the window.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound brave. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t turn around.

I stepped closer. “Do you live here?”

Still no answer.

I was only a few feet away when she finally spoke.

“I was waiting for you,” she whispered.

My heart skipped. “What?”

She turned to look at me, and I froze. Her eyes were dark, like deep water, and her face was pale, almost gray. She didn’t blink.

“You came,” she said. “I knew you would.”

I stepped back. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”

She stood up. Her dress brushed the floor, and the candle flickered more wildly.

“I used to live here. A long time ago,” she said. “No one believed me. No one helped me. But you came.”

“What happened to you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“I disappeared. One night, just like this one. They looked for me, but they never found me. I waited here. For someone like you.”

The candle blew out. The room went dark. I felt a cold wind rush past me, even though the windows were closed.

I turned and ran. Down the stairs, through the hallway, and out the front door. I didn’t stop until I was home, slamming the door behind me, heart racing.

I didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, I told my mom about the girl in the old house. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“That house?” she asked. “You didn’t go in there, did you?”

I nodded.

She pulled out an old photo album from the shelf. “Years ago, a girl went missing. Her name was Anna. She lived in that house. No one ever found out what happened to her.”

She flipped through the pages until she found a picture. My blood turned cold.

It was her. The girl in the white dress. The girl in the room.

“That’s her,” I whispered. “That’s the girl I saw.”

My mom stared at me. “But that’s not possible. She’s been gone for over 40 years.”

We both sat in silence, staring at the photo. I didn’t know what to think. Had I really seen a ghost?

I went back to the house that afternoon. The gate was closed again, the chain locked tight. I tried the front door, but it wouldn’t budge.

I looked up at the window. The candle was gone. The room was dark.

But deep inside, I knew what I had seen. I knew what had happened that night.

Anna had waited for someone. And she had found me.