Rachael stood at the main door of Catherine's house, arms folded tightly around her chest. The cold wind whipped through her long red coat and played with strands of her hair beneath the white bucket cap. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her breath visible in the crisp morning air. Her black tights barely shielded her from the chill. It was a cool, windy day-the kind that felt like the town was holding its breath.
Catherine stepped out moments later, bundled in a blue top and white jeans, a white woven cap snug on her head.
"Hey," Rachael greeted with a soft smile.
"Hey Rachael!" Catherine replied brightly.
They started walking together, making their way to their favorite little tea shop, Teapot. The shop's sign creaked gently in the wind, and the smell of chai and cardamom floated out the door. They each ordered a steaming cup of tea and sat down by the foggy window.
Rachael fidgeted with her cup, lips parting as if to say something-but she hesitated. She wanted to mention the blue-eyed deer again, the one that had appeared out of nowhere. But something inside told her Catherine wouldn't believe her.
After finishing their tea, they continued their walk and found themselves in front of a small, weathered shop with a wooden sign that read: Fortune Teller - "Your future is not hidden... only waiting to be seen."
Rachael's eyes lit up. "I've always wanted to try something like this."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "I don't trust in that stuff. It's all fake."
"Yeah, me neither," Rachael said with a shrug, "but maybe it'll be fun. Just once."
Catherine smirked. "Alright, fine. Ready to see what your spooky house dream means?"
Rachael's smile faded just a little.
"Come on," Catherine said, already heading to the entrance. "What are you waiting for?"
They stepped inside the dimly lit shop. A man stood near a thick red curtain, collecting their payment with a solemn nod. He pulled the curtain aside and gestured for them to enter.
"Welcome, my daughters," said the old lady in a raspy, cracked voice. She had long, tangled silver hair, pale skin like candle wax, and dark hollows under her eyes. Her nails were long and yellowed, clicking gently against the polished wooden table as she rested both hands on a large crystal ball. The scent of dried herbs and smoke filled the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast twisted shadows across the walls, making the room feel alive.
The old woman sat on a creaky wooden chair, its arms carved with strange symbols. Her eyes, clouded with cataracts, still glinted with a wild knowing. Her lips curled slightly in a crooked smile, as if she already knew why they were here.
"Have a seat, my daughters..." she said slowly, motioning to the two wooden stools before her.
Catherine, with a trembling voice: "We're here to see our future."
Old Lady: "Everyone comes here for the future, my child. But not everyone should. Show me your hand, daughter." She reached out her crooked, bony right hand toward Rachael.
Rachael gave her hand to the lady, hesitantly. The old woman gripped it with a strength that didn't match her frail frame. Her other hand hovered over the glowing crystal ball.
She started chanting, "Show me her future... show me her future..."
Her voice grew louder, the flames in the candles flickered violently. The air turned heavy. "Oh... I can see it now! I can see your future!"
She suddenly stood up, her eyes wide and wild, her grip tightening painfully on Rachael's hand. "No! That creature... those blue eyes..."
Rachael and Catherine jumped to their feet in fear. Catherine clutched Rachael's arm. The old woman's voice grew sharp and frantic.
"It's following you! It won't leave you until it has you! Oh no... oh no!"
The room lights began to flicker, growing dim and then flaring brightly. The shadows danced like phantoms on the walls.
The old lady shrieked, pointing a crooked finger. "Behind you... that house! That house is not a place-it's a being! It wants you. That unseen creature-its hunger is deep. It will not stop until you are his!"
Her voice cracked like thunder. The crystal ball glowed brighter, then dimmed. Her eyes rolled back, and she screamed one final time, "That house! That creature! It's coming!"
Rachael tore her hand away in horror. She and Catherine bolted from the shop, their footsteps echoing down the street.
They didn't stop running until they reached a juice stand, where they collapsed, gasping for breath.
"I told you," Rachael said between gasps. "I told you there's something wrong with those dreams. That house... it's not going to leave me."
"No, no," Catherine panted. "That's not true. She's just crazy."
"She knew about the house. Those dreams. How could she know?"
"Catherine, it's because you're too caught up in your fantasies. You think too much about that house."just forget it!
Rachael lowered her gaze, her thoughts swirling. But what if it wasn't made up? What if she was right?
Catherine placed a hand on her shoulder. "Forget about it, okay? That woman was terrifying, yes. And we're never going back there again."
"Hell scary," Rachael agreed, forcing a smile.
Catherine looked at her phone. "I've got to head home. Guests are coming, and I need to help my mom and sister."
"Okay," Rachael said quietly.
"See you later," Catherine said and hurried away.
Rachael stood there for a long moment, watching her friend disappear into the street. Her mind was spinning. What if that woman was right? What if the house is really following me? Or maybe Catherine's right... maybe I'm just imagining things. Too many fantasy books, too many late nights.
She looked up at the sky. The clouds were heavy.
"I won't think about that house anymore," she whispered to herself. "Or I'll go crazy."
But deep down... she knew it wasn't over.
That afternoon, lunch was served on the table. Rachael's mother sat on a chair, and the delicious smell of fish and stew wafted through the kitchen. Unable to resist, Rachael reached out for the steaming bowl, her mind still lost in what had happened that morning. That old lady... was she really just a crazy fortune teller, or did she truly see something? Maybe she knew something. Maybe she had tried to warn her.
She absentmindedly clicked her spoon against the bowl.
"Rachael, you lost somewhere? The stew is getting cold, my dear," her mother said softly.
Rachael blinked back into the moment. "I was just thinking about that abandoned house at the edge of the town."
Her mother's eyes narrowed slightly. "What about it?"
"Why is it abandoned? Why does it look so terrifying? And why does no one go near it after nine? What about all those murders? What's behind all that?"
Her mother let out a long, tired sigh. "Oh my dear... that's a long, grim story. One I planned to tell you someday."
"I have time now," Rachael urged. "Please, I want to know."
Her mother hesitated but then relented. "Alright. Finish your dinner, and I'll tell you the truth-the terrible truth behind that house."
Rachael hurried through her meal, then helped with the dishes. Once everything was clean, her mother sat at the dining table, and Rachael pulled up a chair beside her, heart thudding in anticipation.
"Alright," her mother began, her voice lowering. "It started 55 years ago. That house belonged to a man named Mr. Baruch. He wasn't just rich-he was powerful, feared. He owned textile mills and businesses across cities. His estate was enormous. The house stood like a palace, with grand courtyards, stables, their own river dock, and a staff of at least ten servants at any time. But the man... he was cold. Cruel. Rumors said he had no soul."
Rachael leaned forward, eyes wide.
"Baruch wasn't content with riches. He wanted dominance. He tried to buy out every business in this town-every shop, every small restaurant. But when people refused, he changed. He sent threats. He had people followed. Shops were burned mysteriously. Families were blackmailed. Fear spread like a disease."
"One day," her mother continued, voice dropping lower, "the daughter of the town's favorite restaurant owner-Mr. Harry's daughter-went missing. No one knew what happened to her. The last she was seen, she was crying outside Baruch's estate. People whispered that she was taken. Used. Killed."
Rachael's breath caught in her throat.
"The town had enough. One night, just after 9, men from every corner of this place gathered with torches. They marched to Baruch's mansion. They didn't knock. They didn't speak. They just burned it. Everything. With his wife, son, and Baruch still inside. The screams echoed through the valley for hours."
Her mother's eyes seemed to lose focus, haunted. "But that wasn't the end. People say Baruch's hatred-his hunger for power-anchored him to that house. His soul never left. Since then, no one dares walk those streets after nine. Because something walks there. Something with glowing eyes. Cold air wraps around you like fingers, and footsteps echo with no one behind you. People who ignore the warnings... they don't come back.
"Some say Baruch became a creature that feeds on fear. That his soul split, fusing with the house itself. And now, the house waits. Waits for someone foolish-or fated-to awaken what still sleeps there."
Her mother stood, pushing her chair in. "That's all I can tell you, dear. Whether it's truth or myth... only the shadows know."
Rachael's skin crawled, her stomach twisting with dread and curiosity. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Just to rest. A few hours of sleep before evening."
"I'm just heading out for a bit-to the park. The stars are calling," Rachael said.
"Alright," her mother nodded, "but don't be late. Be home before nine."
"I will."
Rachael wrapped herself in a black and white woven sweater and cap, her hair tied into a ponytail. She walked to the park. Children played. Their mothers chatted nearby. Birds chirped in the trees, unaware of the secrets the wind carried.
Then she saw him-a tall, handsome guy around 19 or 20, with short brown hair, a white shirt, jeans, and piercing blue eyes that sparkled. He had a smirk that was both charming and unreadable. He sat on the swing beside hers.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," Rachael replied.
A pause lingered.
"How are you?" he asked, gently swinging.
"I'm fine. What about you?"
"I'm good. You look like someone who thinks too much."
Rachael chuckled. "I guess I do."
"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked.
"No, I'm from Elderwick, just a little way off. I'm here for some paperwork. I run a small restaurant back home."
"Oh."
Then he asked, "What do you think of that old house-the abandoned one?"
She froze for a moment. "Why?"
"I hear stories. Ghosts. People vanishing after dark."
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
"No. I think people do horrible things and blame the dead. But I've walked past it-after nine. I'm still here."
Rachael smiled. "Maybe you're the ghost."
Dylan laughed. "Do I look like one?"
The swings creaked gently as they moved through the cool evening air. Rachael leaned back, letting the breeze play with the loose strands of her hair while Dylan swung beside her, smiling as if the world outside the park didn't exist. They laughed about silly things- his awkward way of introducing himself-and for the first time in days, Rachael felt her chest lighten.
The fading sunlight painted the sky in soft shades of pink and orange, casting a calm glow over everything around them. It was quiet, peaceful, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered-not the dreams, not the house, not the whispers of the past.
Dylan looked over at her as his swing slowed. "You know," he said, "I think this has been my favorite part of the day."
Rachael smiled, her heart feeling strangely full. "Mine too."
The swings came to a stop. Dylan stood up, brushing off his jeans. "I'll come again tomorrow. I hope to see you here."
Rachael nodded, a soft warmth blooming in her chest. "I'll be here."
And as he walked away, something in her hoped that, just maybe, things were starting to change.