The Haunted House on Blackwood Lane

The old Victorian mansion at the end of Blackwood Lane had Stood abandoned for decades. Its peeling paint, shattered windows, and overgrown yard made it the perfect subject of local ghost stories. Teenagers sneaked in at night, only to flee in terror before dawn, and kids dared each other to step onto its creaky porch. But no one ever stayed long enough to uncover the truth—until the night Emma Carter decided to prove the legends wrong.

## **A Dare Gone Wrong**

Emma had always been a skeptic. Ghost stories were just that—stories so when her friends challenged her to spend one night in the Blackwood House, she agreed without hesitation. She pushed open the rusted iron gate and stepped onto the property with nothing but a flashlight, a camera, and her stubborn disbelief. The air became colder as soon as her foot touched the broken path. Even though there was no wind, a whispering breeze slithered through the trees. Ignoring the unease creeping up her spine, Emma marched up the porch steps, each one groaning under her weight. As if waiting for her, the front door was slightly ajar. Inside, the house smelled of damp wood and Something else Something rotten. The furniture was covered in dust, the wallpaper was peeling, and there was a grand staircase that led to the second floor when her flashlight's beam broke through the darkness. For the first time in years, dust was agitated and swirled in the air. ## **The First Signs**

Emma snapped a few photos, joking to herself about how ridiculous the whole thing was. But then**a sound**. A faint, rhythmic *tapping* from upstairs.

*Tap… tap… tap…*

Like fingernails against wood.

Her breath hitched. *Just the house settling*, she told herself. But the sound grew louder, more deliberate. Then*a whisper**.

*"Emma…"*

Her blood turned to ice. No one knew she was there. Only her friends, who were awaiting her in their car outside and were prepared to call her if she refused. She swallowed hard and forced herself forward. "Hello?" Her voice echoed through the empty halls. No answer—just that relentless *tapping*.

## **The Second Floor**

Against her better judgment, Emma climbed the stairs. Each step groaned beneath her, as if warning her to turn back. At the top, a long hallway stretched before her, doors lining either side. The tapping came from the last room at the end.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she approached. The door was slightly ajar. With a trembling hand, she pushed it open.

Inside was a child’s bedroom—a rusted crib, broken toys, and a rocking chair moving slowly… **by itself**.

Emma’s breath caught. The tapping stopped. The chair creaked as it swayed. Then**a giggle**. High-pitched, innocent, and utterly horrifying in the silence.

She stumbled back, her flashlight flickering. Unnatural shapes were created by twisted shadows that ran along the walls. A cold hand brushed her shoulder—

**SLAM! **

The door shut behind her.

## **The Truth of Blackwood House**

Panic set in. Despite Emma's efforts, the doorknob remained stationary. The giggling grew louder, now coming from all around her. The air thickened, pressing against her like invisible hands.

Then, the whispers started.

*"Stay with us…"*

*"You’ll never leave…"*

The flashlight died. Darkness swallowed her whole.

In the pitch black, something grabbed her wrist—icy, skeletal fingers tightening. She screamed, thrashing, but the grip only strengthened. The whispers became screams, the room filling with the wails of the dead.

## **The Disappearance**

Emma’s friends waited until sunrise. When she didn’t return, they called the police. Officers searched the house but found no trace of his, only her abandoned camera.

The last photo she took was of the rocking chair. And in it, barely visible, was the faint outline of a pale-faced child… **smiling**.

## **The Legend Lives On**

Locals still claim to see a flickering light at night in Blackwood House. Some say it’s Emma, still trapped inside, her flashlight forever searching for a way out. Others claim to hear her screams echoing through the empty halls.

But one thing is certain—no one who enters that house ever comes back.

And if you listen closely on a quiet night, you might just hear the whispers…

*"Come inside… Stay forever…"*