Fiction logo
Content warning
This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.

The House at Willow's End

The Ghosts Beneath the Willow Tree

By Jupiter's QuillPublished about a year ago 3 min read

The house at Willow’s End had always been an enigma, standing decrepit and alone at the edge of the forest. For decades, whispers of its dark past wove through the village like threads in a tapestry. They said the house had a soul, a malignant one, and that it preyed on those who dared to step inside.

Amelia didn’t believe in such tales. Practical and resolute, she was a journalist chasing the truth behind the ghost stories. Her little brother, Sam, had disappeared ten years ago, and though his name was rarely spoken now, Amelia's heart clung to his memory. Her investigation led her to the house, for it was the last place Sam was reportedly seen.

She arrived at dusk, the dying sun painting the sky in fiery hues. The air grew heavier with each step she took towards the house. The warped wooden door groaned as she pushed it open, revealing a suffocating darkness that seemed alive.

Inside, the walls were adorned with faded, peeling wallpaper. The scent of decay lingered in the air. Amelia’s flashlight cast eerie shadows, distorting the shapes of broken furniture and strewn debris. Then, she heard it—a faint, childlike giggle that sent a chill crawling up her spine.

“Sam?” she called out instinctively, her voice trembling.

The giggle echoed again, this time closer. She followed the sound, heart pounding, as it led her to a narrow staircase spiralling into the basement. A cold dread settled over her, but her determination outweighed her fear. Descending the stairs, she entered a room filled with dusty toys, their glassy eyes reflecting her flashlight.

In the centre of the room stood a figure. It was a child, his back turned to her. His silhouette was painfully familiar.

“Sam?” she whispered, tears welling up.

The figure turned slowly, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Sam, but his eyes were black voids, and his smile was twisted in an unnatural way. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said in a voice that was both his and something else entirely.

Before she could respond, the room transformed. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsing with a malevolent life of their own. Hands—pale and skeletal—emerged, reaching for her, their cold touch sapping her strength.

“Help me,” Sam’s voice cried, breaking through the chaos. His face contorted with fear, as if he were fighting against something unseen. “Please, Amelia, save me.”

Summoning all her courage, Amelia lunged towards him. As she grabbed his hand, an unbearable pain shot through her arm. The house’s malevolence was trying to claim her too. She pulled with all her might, her love for her brother overpowering her terror.

Suddenly, the darkness shattered. Amelia found herself outside, clutching Sam’s hand. He looked like the boy she remembered, his eyes filled with tears.

“You freed me,” he whispered, his voice fragile. “But I can’t stay.”

“What do you mean?” she cried, but Sam’s form began to fade, his smile bittersweet.

“Thank you for not forgetting me,” he said before disappearing entirely.

Amelia collapsed to the ground, sobbing. When she looked back, the house at Willow’s End was gone, replaced by an empty field. In her hand, she clutched a small toy car, one of Sam’s favourites. It was the only proof he had ever been there.

Years later, Amelia told the story to anyone who would listen. Some dismissed it as grief-fuelled imagination, while others saw the truth in her eyes. But she never returned to the field. She knew that some doors, once closed, should never be opened again.

Horror

About the Creator

Jupiter's Quill

I’m Hafiz creator of Jupiter's Quill I share stories, ideas, and wisdom from others, adding my perspective to inspire thought and connection. Join me for honest conversations and meaningful insights as we weigh in on life’s moments together

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2026 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.