The Girl Who Knew About the Abandoned Beach House

My family and I have lived in Silverstone all my life. Everyone whispers about the abandoned house on Rosewood Lane- the one no one goes near. They say it’s haunted by a red-haired girl ghost. 

My parents used to scare me all the time when I was a little, that the redhaired girl would come get me if I misbehaved. I would hide under my blanket, imagining her gliding across the room, past the windows of the old house. Now at 17, I laughed at the memory. 

That summer afternoon, golden sunlight spilling over the town, and the smell of ocean breeze, I walked slowly toward Rosewood Lane. The house stood exactly how I remembered it from childhood stories: peeling paint, cracked windows, and the smell of dust filling my nose. Even in the daylight, it was scary.

I stepped carefully onto the porch, testing the board near a cracked post. That step let out a loud creak. The house smelled of salt, dust, and something faintly sweet—like old flowers left to rot in the sun. Sunlight spilled through the broken windows, painting long, jagged shadows across the floor. I crouched to examine the boards and noticed a faint symbol carved into the frame of the upstairs door. I didn’t recognize it at first, but the grooves were worn smooth, like someone had been tracing them for years. I quickly sketched it in my notebook, each line feeling like a secret trying to tell me something.

From the street, I thought I heard someone whisper my name, but when I looked, the lane was empty. 

Then movement flickered in the corner of my eye—a flash of red hair across the porch. My pulse jumped. For a moment, I imagined the stories were true: the red-haired girl ghost, gliding silently among the shadows. But as I leaned closer, I realized the “ghost” was small, clever, and alive.

A fox, fur the color of autumn leaves, crouched among the driftwood, watching me with intelligent, playful eyes. It blinked slowly, then disappeared under the shadows of the house, leaving only the rustle of dry leaves behind.

I exhaled, a laugh escaping me. “So that’s the red-haired ghost,” I murmured. “Just a clever fox… but somehow, I feel like it’s been waiting for me all along.”

Even as I turned to leave, the house seemed to watch me. And I knew, with a certainty that made the hairs on my arms stand on end, that this was only the beginning