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Although I can't exactly recall every last detail on what my English teacher told my class on Halloween around 2 years ago, I still will never forget his real-life horror story.

My teacher, Mr.Smith, lived in a town near a small beach. An old, run-down house laid on a tiny island not too far away from the shore. The house had a rather... disturbing history. Legend has it, that a family of three, a mother, a father, and a daughter, used to live in the house. The mother and father were both very cruel, to the daughter, and would abuse her every day. One day, however, the parents did the only decent favor for their daughter, and bought her a doll with a red dress. The daughter adored the doll, and would play with it every day. Both the parents were irritated to see their daughter happy, so they decided to come up with a plan to wipe the smile off of their daughter's face for good. While the daughter wasn't in her room, the mother snatched the doll and hid it in the house. The daughter went up to her room, only to see that her beloved doll wasn't there. The father then told the daughter that he had thrown the doll into the water. Panicking, the daughter dived into the water, searching for her doll. The parents both laughed at their struggling daughter, looking for the doll that they had the entire time. Eventually, the daughter tragically drowned in the water. The parents, being the diabolical beings that they were, weren't affected in the slightest by their daughter's death. Shortly after the incident, the parents both moved out.

Since then, nobody ever bought the house, and those who explored it were treated with a chilling experience. Some people claimed to hear scratching and banging noises while in the house, giving it a creepy reputation around the town. Many thrill-seekers would travel there in the middle of the night, willing to give themselves a scare. Mr. Smith didn't want to go into the house to find out if the rumors surrounding it were true, and he never did, that was until one day.

One day, a boy named Sam had just moved in as his neighbor. Once the two met, they instantly became best friends. Sam and Mr. Smith would always have fun around the town when they were together. They'd always go on adventures every single day.

It was a brisk, Saturday evening, and Mr. Smith and Sam were both sitting down on the beach, gazing off into the sea. Sam spotted the house on the island, and noticed how dilapidated and odd it looked.

"Hey, what's the deal with that house on the island?" asked Sam.

"Oh, well...it's a long story," replied Mr. Smith.

"Really? What happened there?" Said Sam

And so, Mr. Smith told Sam the entire history of the house, and the myths about it. Instead of looking creeped-out, Sam looked rather excited.

"We should totally kayak there tomorrow!" exclaimed Sam.

"I don't know, I've never been there before...," said Mr. Smith.

"Come on, it's just some stupid old house! It's not like we're gonna get killed doing it!" said Sam.

"Okay, fine...," muttered Mr. Smith.

The two agreed to meet up tomorrow morning at the beach, and take a kayak to the house.

Morning came, and Mr. Smith headed to the beach. There, he saw Sam at the docks, on a kayak.

"Come on, let's go!" shouted Sam.

Mr. Smith sat into the kayak, and the two rowed their way to the house.

Once the stepped foot onto the island, they noticed a pocket knife on one of the doorsteps. Sam then picked it up.

"A teenager probably left it here," said Sam.

The two slowly opened the door, and walked inside. Inside, the house looked even more disgusting. The floorboards were slightly loose, the wallpaper was a disgusting shade of brown, and there were cobwebs at every corner. There was a staircase leading upstairs, and a room to the right.

All of a sudden, the two heard a faint, scratching sound.

"Ksh.... Ksh.... Ksh...."

It was coming from the room to the right.

The two gradually opened the door to the room, and stepped inside. The room was entirely empty, apart from an icebox in the corner of the room. That was where they heard the scratching noises from.

They both very slowly inched their way towards the icebox, the scratching getting slightly louder with each step. Just before Mr. Smith could open the icebox entirely, Sam threw the knife at the floor, barely missing the icebox. The two then ran, out of the room, out of the house, into the kayak, and back to shore, rowing as fast as they could.

The next day, Sam approached Mr. Smith in the morning. He offered him a deal. He'd give Mr. Smith his Red Sox Hat that Sam claimed was worn by one of the players, if Mr. Smith spent the night in the house. Mr. Smith was hesitant at first, but was still dying for the Red Sox Hat. He then agreed to the offer. He asked his parent about it, and they both approved. Mr. Smith gathered his sleeping bag, a flashlight, and some water for the night. He kayaked over to the house just as the sky turned dark, confident that he could stay a night in the supposedly haunted house.

Mr. Smith set up his sleeping bag in the entrance room of the house, and decided to just lay there for the whole night. As he laid there, he could here faint scratching noises coming from upstairs.

"Ksh.... Ksh.... Ksh...."

They were the same scratching noises he heard when he and Sam first entered the house.

Instead of chickening out and running off, Mr. Smith shut his eyes and covered his ears. He tried his very best to fall asleep. He covered his ears so tightly that he didn't even notice that the scratching had stopped. Eventually, he dozed off into sleep.

Mr. Smith then woke up the next morning. He could tell that it was morning from the lighting of the house. He stood up, rolled up his sleeping bag, and grabbed his flashlight, ready to leave. He then saw Sam open the door.

"Wow, you're braver than I thought!" said Sam.

All of a sudden, Sam froze. He looked almost as if he was paralyzed. Mr. Smith then turned around to see what Sam was so shocked about.

There, on the third step of the staircase, was a doll in a red dress, just like the one described in the legend of the house.

The two slowly backed away from the staircase. Once they got near the door, they burst out of the house, ran towards the kayak, and rowed as fast as they could to the shore.

Ever since then, the two swore to never enter the house again.

To this day, the only piece of evidence Mr. Smith has about the story, is a Red Sox Hat, that was supposedly worn by one of the players.

Whether or not Mr. Smith made up this story to give our class a scare on Halloween, it still gives me chills to this day....



Written by Aliwinner
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