The Old House on Birchwood Street

The old house on Birchwood Street always smelled like mold and dust, like the ground was slowly reclaiming it piece by piece. For years, kids dared each other to knock on its cracked wooden door and run. But tonight, 16-year-old Pete stood alone on the rickety porch, heart pounding. He was here to fulfill a promise—one that his brother never had the chance to complete.

A year ago, on Halloween night, Pete’s brother, Danny, had gone into the house on a dare and never came out. The police had searched for weeks, combing the woods, questioning neighbors, and even digging in the old house’s basement. But Danny was never found. All they had was a lone sneaker on the basement stairs, its laces still tied.

Tonight, Pete planned to finish what his brother had started. He carried a flashlight and his brother’s old pocketknife. Just in case. The air inside the house was thick and stale. Shadows crept along the walls like oil slicks, pooling in the corners and along the ceiling.

As he ventured deeper into the house, Pete heard soft murmurs—whispers just on the edge of hearing. He couldn’t make out the words, but they seemed to come from everywhere at once. His flashlight flickered. His pulse quickened.

Then he heard it—a soft shuffle coming from the basement, like someone in socks dragging their feet. Swallowing hard, Pete crept toward the door and gripped the handle, feeling the chill of the rusted metal.

When he opened the door, the smell of decay hit him, thick and rancid. His flashlight cut through the darkness, and he froze. There, at the bottom of the stairs, was Danny, his face pale, his eyes wide and hollow. He mouthed something, but no sound came out. Pete could see his brother’s lips moving, though, repeating one word over and over.

“Run.”

But Pete couldn’t move. Shadows poured from the walls, pooling at his brother’s feet, wrapping around him like chains. Pete turned to flee, but his flashlight died, leaving him in total darkness as the whispers grew louder, almost deafening.

He could still see Danny, his mouth frozen in a scream that Pete would never forget, a scream that would haunt him long after the lights in the house went out for good.