``The House on the Other Side of the Street''

The House on the Other Side of the Street

The old mansion at the end of the lane had always piqued Emma's interest. She had heard the whispers and tales about it while growing up in the little hamlet of Glenmore, but she had never really thought about them. Until the summer, that is, when she came back after years abroad.

Emma had returned to Glenmore in late August to spend a few weeks with her folks. The village was still peaceful and unremarkable, with dusty roads and the faces of old acquaintances. But without her, the house at the end of the lane had taken on an even more fascinating quality.

Although the mansion had always stood tall on the outskirts of town, it had been kept up when Emma was a child—sturdy, solid, and painted in a way that always looked new. Years later, the house had changed. The ivy on the walls was taking over like a hungry beast, the windows were clouded with grime, and the once-grand structure was in ruins. The house appeared to be slowly eroding into the ground as it struggled to endure the ravages of time.

Emma was walking alone at the end of the lane one evening after dinner. Although she had seen the mansion from afar, she had never ventured to approach it. She had always been cautioned by her parents not to approach it. They told her about the place's curse, the weird things that happened to its residents, and how the previous owners had vanished into thin air. However, those were merely tales, were not they?

The house appeared to be calling to her tonight. As though welcoming her in, the gate groaned in the wind and its shattered panes glinted in the moonlight. She was powerless to resist.

Emma's footsteps crunched in the grass as she walked through the overgrown yard. The weight of years of neglect was heavy in the air around her. She arrived at the front door, which was still standing despite its broken and warped wood. She grabbed for the handle without thinking, and it turned effortlessly in her hands. There was a slight moan as the door opened.

Emma could not identify the smell, but it made her stomach turn. The house smelled of dust, mildew, and something more. Even for an ancient, deserted house, the temperature was lower than it should have been. After a brief moment of hesitation, she crossed the threshold. As she walked farther into the house, the floors creaked under her feet.

With the exception of the moonlight that filtered through the damaged windows, the living room was completely dark. The white blankets covering the ancient furniture gave the impression that someone had previously attempted to keep dust off of it. However, the old, yellowed sheets were torn. Like the rest of the room, the fireplace was empty and chilly.

Emma felt a cold shiver run up her back. She was not by herself.

Like a voice calling her name, a faint murmur reverberated throughout the space. Emma's heart thumped in her chest as she froze. Half-expecting to find someone standing behind her, she turned around, but nobody was there. She was by herself. Or did she?

"Emma..."

This time, the whisper was more distinct and seemed to be near her ear. Her gaze darted into the shadowed corners of the room as she whirled around, but nobody was there.

Her breath caught. Despite her senses telling her to leave, she was unable to do so. She was compelled to remain. Her chest felt as though the air was getting thicker. It was as if the walls were closing in.

Her thoughts were racing as she approached the stairs with caution. Perhaps it was all in her head. She had been alone herself for some time, and the uncanny quiet of the home was deceiving her. But she had a gut feeling that something was not right.

She climbed, step by step, the stairway creaking under her weight. A corridor with closed doors loomed before her at the top of the stairs. A dim light flashed from under a door at the end of the hall.

Emma was powerless to stop herself. She approached the door, reaching for the handle with a shaking hand. The door creaked open and it turned easily.

Inside, a solitary flickering lamp filled the area with a sickening yellow glare. Strange, ancient images of individuals Emma did not recognize decorated the walls. They all appeared to be staring at her, watching her every move. And there was a big, old mirror in the middle of the space, its surface hazy with age.

Her breath was caught, however, by her reflection in the mirror.

A figure was standing behind her. A gaunt, pale woman with a twisted smile and lifeless eyes. Her skin was as white as stone, shattered and damaged, and her hair hung in matted, twisted threads about her face. The woman's teeth were sharp and yellowed, but she was smiling.

Emma turned, but there was no one in the room. The reflection was no longer there.

She staggered backward, almost falling over her own feet, her heart hammering in her breast. Her gaze quickly returned to the mirror, but the figure was vanished. Though the fear coursing through her veins told her otherwise, she was not sure whether she had dreamed it.

The door abruptly slammed behind her, leaving her in complete darkness.

“Emma…” This time, the whisper was louder and more insistent. "You ought not to have come."

As the temperature continued to plummet and she could see her breath vaporizing, panic swept through her. The door refused to move as her hands grappled for it. The murmur became more urgent and louder, as though it were emanating from the walls surrounding her.

"Leave! "Leave!"

Emma felt a chilly hand suddenly clutch her shoulder.

She let out a scream.

Emma staggered into the hallway as the door blasted open with one last frantic shove. Her thoughts was racing with fear, and her heart was pounding. She did not pause to turn around. She took off running.

As like it were alive, the house resisted her every step, grabbing for her and drawing her in. Emma did not stop until she was standing in the overgrown yard, gasping for air and trembling.

Once, for a little moment, she glanced back and noticed the upper-story window.

There was a figure observing her.

And she was certain that the house at the end of the path would always be a part of her......