WELCOME HOME, ETHAN

# THE HOUSE ON BLACKWOOD STREET The town of Blackwood, Maine, had one rule that every child knew. **Never walk past House Number 13 after midnight.** Nobody remembered exactly who had made the rule. Nobody needed to. Everyone knew what happened to the people who broke it. At the end of Blackwood Street stood an old Victorian house surrounded by dead trees. Its windows were covered with wooden boards, and the front porch leaned slightly to one side as if the house were slowly collapsing. The house had been empty for more than thirty years. At least, that was what people believed. Ethan Carter did not believe in ghost stories. He was twenty-four years old and had recently returned to Blackwood after finishing college in Boston. His father had grown up in the town and had always warned him about the abandoned house. But Ethan laughed whenever anyone mentioned it. "Old buildings make noises," he would say. "People hear something strange and suddenly it's a ghost." One cold October evening, Ethan made a bet with three friends. He would spend one entire night inside House Number 13. At midnight. Alone. His friends thought he was crazy. Ethan thought they were scared. At 11:58 PM, he stood in front of the old house with a flashlight, his phone, and a small backpack. "Still time to change your mind," his friend Daniel said. Ethan smiled. "I'll be back before sunrise." Those were the last normal words anyone heard from him that night. The front door opened easily. Too easily. Ethan stepped inside. The moment he crossed the doorway, the door slammed shut behind him. **BANG!** He jumped. "Very funny," he shouted. No answer. His flashlight moved across the hallway. Dust covered the floor. Old furniture stood against the walls. A broken chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything looked abandoned. But then Ethan noticed something strange. There were fresh footprints in the dust. Small footprints. Bare feet. They began near the staircase. And disappeared into the darkness. Ethan stared at them. For the first time that night, he felt uncomfortable. He followed the footprints upstairs. Each wooden step groaned beneath his feet. Halfway up the stairs, his phone suddenly vibrated. He looked at the screen. **NO CALLER ID** Ethan answered. "Hello?" At first, there was only silence. Then he heard breathing. Slow. Wet. Close. Ethan pulled the phone away from his ear. "Who is this?" A little girl's voice whispered. "Don't go upstairs." Ethan froze. The call ended. He immediately called Daniel. No signal. His flashlight flickered. Once. Twice. Then the entire house went dark. Ethan hit the flashlight with his hand. The light returned. And he screamed. A little girl was standing at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a white dress. Her long black hair covered her face. Ethan stumbled backward. "Who are you?" The girl slowly raised one hand. Her finger pointed toward the hallway. "Leave," she whispered. Ethan didn't need to be told twice. He ran downstairs. But when he reached the front door, something was wrong. There was no door. The wall where the door had been was completely solid. Ethan stared at it in disbelief. "No." He touched the wall. Cold. Real. There was no way out. Then he heard a sound from upstairs. A child laughing. **Hehehehe...** Ethan turned around. The staircase was empty. But the laughter continued. Closer. And closer. He ran into the nearest room and slammed the door shut. Inside was an old bedroom. There was a bed. A dresser. And a large mirror standing in the corner. Ethan pressed his back against the door, breathing heavily. Then he looked toward the mirror. His reflection was standing there. But Ethan wasn't moving. His reflection was smiling. Ethan stopped breathing. Slowly, he lifted his hand. His reflection did not. Instead, the reflection raised one finger to its lips. **Shhh.** Ethan screamed and threw his flashlight at the mirror. The glass shattered. The room went silent. Then Ethan heard a voice behind him. "You shouldn't have done that." He turned. The little girl was standing beside the bed. But this time, her hair had moved away from her face. Her eyes were completely black. Her mouth was too wide. And blood was running down her white dress. Ethan grabbed the door handle. Locked. He pulled again. Nothing. The girl took one step forward. "Ethan." His entire body froze. "How do you know my name?" She smiled. "Because you were here before." Ethan shook his head. "No. I've never been here." The girl's smile disappeared. "Yes, you were." Suddenly, Ethan saw something. Not with his eyes. Inside his mind. A memory. A younger version of himself. A little boy. Standing inside the same house. There was another boy beside him. And a little girl crying in the corner. The memory vanished. Ethan fell to his knees. "No." The girl moved closer. "You forgot us." Ethan's head began to hurt. More memories appeared. Summer. Twenty years ago. Ethan was four years old. His father had brought him and his older brother to Blackwood. They had entered the abandoned house. There had been three children inside. They had been playing. Then something happened. A door had closed. Ethan's brother had disappeared. And Ethan had been found outside the next morning. Alone. His father had never told him the truth. Ethan looked at the girl. "Who are you?" The girl began to cry. "My name was Emily." Ethan remembered. Emily. A girl who had disappeared from Blackwood thirty years ago. Her body was never found. The police had searched the house. Nothing. Ethan slowly stood. "Why are you here?" Emily looked toward the broken mirror. "I didn't stay here." Ethan followed her eyes. Something moved inside the mirror. Behind the broken glass was darkness. Deep darkness. Then a hand reached through the mirror. A pale human hand. Ethan stepped back. Another hand appeared. Then another. Fingers crawled across the floor. Emily screamed. "RUN!" The bedroom door suddenly opened. Ethan ran into the hallway. Behind him, something crawled out of the broken mirror. He heard bones cracking. Fingernails scraping across the wooden floor. He ran downstairs. This time, the front door was there. Ethan grabbed the handle. It opened. Cold night air hit his face. He ran outside. Behind him, the house began to shake. Windows shattered. The walls groaned. Ethan didn't stop running until he reached Daniel's car. His friends stared at him. "What happened to you?" Ethan looked back. House Number 13 was standing silently at the end of the street. Nothing appeared different. Except one thing. The upstairs window was no longer boarded. Inside the window stood Emily. Ethan raised his hand. Emily did not move. Then Daniel suddenly became quiet. "Ethan..." "What?" Daniel pointed toward the house. "Who's standing behind her?" Ethan looked again. Behind Emily was a tall, dark figure. It had no face. No eyes. Only a wide, impossible smile. Ethan's phone rang. He looked at the screen. **NO CALLER ID** His hands began to shake. He answered. For several seconds, there was silence. Then Emily whispered: "You left too early." Ethan looked toward the house. The upstairs window was empty. Daniel looked at him. "What did she mean?" Ethan slowly turned around. His smile disappeared. Because Emily was sitting in the back seat of the car. Her wet hair covered her face. And she whispered into Ethan's ear— **"Welcome home."**