Halloween Story #2 - The Waiting Part 2

The police arrived not long after the panic set in. Jack’s parents had been the first to break, calling Emily’s phone again and again to no avail. Each call went to voicemail, and as the hours dragged on, the sinking feeling in Jack’s chest turned into a cold, consuming dread.

Jack sat in the living room, his mind racing. The police had asked all the usual questions. Where was she last seen? Did she mention meeting anyone? Could she have gone somewhere else without telling anyone?

But none of it made sense. Emily had texted them, said she’d be home by 8:00 PM, and then she had simply disappeared. No trace, no clues. The street outside was empty, the night as silent as ever.

It wasn’t until after midnight that Jack noticed something strange. He had been staring out the window, lost in thought, when a flash of movement caught his eye. At first, he thought it was just another car passing by, but this time, he saw something else—just for a second, a figure walking in the distance. His heart leaped. He stood up, moving closer to the glass, straining to see.

It was Emily. Her unmistakable form was walking down the far end of the street, toward their house.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He rushed outside, shouting for his parents. “I see her! She’s coming!”

He bolted down the steps and into the street, his eyes fixed on her. But something was wrong. The way she moved... it was off. Her walk was slow, almost lethargic, as if she wasn’t in control of her own body.

“Emily!” Jack called out, his voice echoing in the quiet night.

But she didn’t respond. She kept walking, her head slightly bowed, her arms swaying unnaturally by her sides.

He ran toward her, but the closer he got, the more he realized this wasn’t right. Her face, when he could finally make it out under the dim streetlights, wasn’t Emily’s face at all. It was a reflection of her—distorted, almost like a faded photograph, as if she was fading in and out of reality itself.

Jack froze. The figure kept walking, not slowing, not speeding up—just drifting forward like a ghost. His heart pounded in his ears as he called out again, louder this time, but there was no response.

And then, without warning, the figure vanished.

He blinked, his pulse racing. There was no sound, no trace of her anywhere. The street was empty again, as if she had never been there at all.

Suddenly, a faint beeping noise cut through the silence. Jack looked down. It was his phone—a text from Emily.

“I’m home.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. Home? He ran back to the house, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. Inside, his parents were gathered in the living room, their faces pale, eyes wide.

“I just got a text from Emily,” Jack said breathlessly, holding up his phone.

“So did we,” his dad said, voice trembling. “But she’s not here.”

That’s when the knocking started. Soft, deliberate knocks, coming from the basement door.

Jack’s stomach flipped. They never used the basement. Slowly, the three of them moved toward the door, the knocking continuing in rhythmic, steady beats.

His father reached for the handle, turning it with shaking hands. The door creaked open to reveal a pitch-black stairway.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Emily, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.

“I tried to come home,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “But something followed me.”