"The House That Wouldn't Let Go"

The night was crisp, with a full moon casting an eerie glow over the suburban streets. Halloween was in full swing, and a group of trick-or-treaters—Tommy, Lisa, Max, and Emily—roamed the neighborhood, their laughter echoing through the night.

"Let's check out that old house at the end of the street," Max suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The house he pointed to was a large, decrepit Victorian, known by the local kids as the "Creepy House."

"I don't know," Lisa hesitated, adjusting the witch's hat on her head. "My brother told me weird stuff happens there."

"Come on, Lisa," Tommy urged, his pirate costume jingling with plastic coins. "It’s just an old house. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Emily, dressed as a ghost, was already halfway down the sidewalk, her white sheet billowing in the wind. "You guys coming or what?" she called back.

The porch creaked under their feet as they stepped up to the door. Max, always the daring one, raised a hand to knock, but before he could, the door slowly swung open with a loud groan. A cold gust of wind swept through the entryway, sending a chill down their spines.

"Hello?" Tommy called out, his voice trembling slightly. There was no answer, only the sound of the wind rustling through the dead leaves outside.

"Maybe we should just go," Lisa whispered, her eyes darting around the dark interior.

But before anyone could move, the door slammed shut behind them with a deafening bang. The kids jumped, their hearts racing as they realized they were now trapped.

"Let’s find another way out," Max suggested, trying to keep his voice steady. "There’s gotta be a back door or something."

They ventured deeper into the house, their flashlights flickering as they illuminated the dusty, cobweb-covered rooms. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and every floorboard creaked ominously beneath their feet.

As they moved through the house, strange things began to happen. Shadows flitted across the walls, though there was no one there.

"Something’s not right here," Tommy said, his voice barely a whisper.

"No kidding," Lisa replied, clutching his arm. "We need to get out of here now."

They found themselves in a large, dimly lit room, with a grand staircase leading up to the second floor. At the top of the stairs stood a figure, shrouded in darkness.

"Who…who are you?" Emily stammered, backing away.

The air grew colder with each step it took, and the kids felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty halls as the figure pursued them, its presence growing closer with every passing second. Panic took over, and they began to scream for help, but their voices seemed to vanish into the oppressive darkness.

Finally, they burst into a small, dusty room. There was a window, but it was nailed shut. Desperation set in as they tried to pry it open. The figure was right behind them now, its breath cold on the back of their necks.

With one final effort, Max managed to wrench the window open, and they scrambled out, tumbling onto the overgrown lawn outside.

Panting and terrified, they ran all the way back to the safety of the street, not daring to look back. The house loomed behind them, silent and foreboding.

"We’re never going back there," Lisa gasped, her face pale.

"Agreed," Tommy said, still shaken. "Let’s just go home."

But as they turned to leave, they heard the faint sound of the door creaking open again. A chill ran down their spines as they realized the house wasn’t done with them yet.

From that night on, the old Victorian house at the end of the street was avoided by all. The kids never spoke of what happened, but they knew one thing for certain: some doors should never be opened, and some places are best left undisturbed.