The House on Pine Creek Street

While their mom finally takes a chance on happiness, 17-year-old Hailey is left to babysit her mute little brother. But a stranger is watching the house, and he's waited for this night. When things turn deadly, Hailey must protect her brother from a stalker who knows every corner of their new home.

The autumn wind whispered through the skeletal branches that clawed at the windows of 1247 Pine Creek Street. Nadia adjusted her makeup one last time, stealing a glance at herself in the mirror. At 43, she'd learned that happiness was a luxury she couldn't afford to take for granted… not after everything they'd endured.

The car horn bleated impatiently from the driveway. And Nadia felt her heart flutter with hope. Her charming boss, Gerard, was waiting, and it felt different… like a new beginning.

"Hailey, sweetheart!" she called up the stairs, her voice echoing through the house that still smelled faintly of fresh paint and possibility. "I'm leaving!"

Seventeen-year-old Hailey appeared at the top of the stairs of their new home, her auburn hair catching the warm glow of the hallway light. She moved with that peculiar grace that teenagers possess. Part woman, part child, and all determination.

"You look beautiful, Mom!" she chirped, and she meant it.

Nadia's eyes grew moist from joy. After six years of struggling alone, Gerard had changed everything. He'd seen past her exhaustion, fear, and the protective shell she'd built around herself and her children.

"Take care of Hugo," Nadia said, kissing Hailey's forehead. "Make sure he eats before bed, okay, sweetheart?"

"Go!" Hailey laughed, pushing her mother gently toward the door. "Have fun, Mom. You deserve it."

The car door slammed, and Hailey watched through the window as Gerard's car disappeared into the night, its taillights bleeding red against the darkness.

She pressed her palm against the cool glass, fighting off the strange chill that had nothing to do with the October air seeping through the old window frames.

"Stop it!" She told herself. "Mom's happy. That's what matters."

But Pine Creek Street felt different as darkness devoured the misty streets. The shadows seemed deeper and hungrier. And the wind carried sounds that made her skin crawl. They seemed like whispers in a language she didn't want to understand.

"Hugo!" Hailey called, forcing brightness into her voice. "Who wants pizza?"

Her seven-year-old brother emerged from the living room, his gray eyes bright with mischief. Hugo had been born into silence, his voice trapped somewhere deep inside a mind that worked in ways the doctors couldn't fully explain.

But his hands spoke volumes. They danced through sign language with the fluid grace of a musician directing an invisible orchestra.

"Pizza!" he signed, grinning. "And cartoons."

"You got it, little man!"

While Hugo settled onto the couch, surrounded by cartoon superheroes battling monsters on the television screen, Hailey heated up leftover pizza from the box she'd ordered earlier that evening.

Her phone suddenly buzzed.

Tyler: "Can I come over? Missing you."

Hailey's cheeks flushed as she typed back: "Can't! Babysitting Hugo."

Tyler: "Tomorrow then. Love you. ;)"

Hailey: "Love you too!"

By 10:15 p.m., Hugo was yawning, his small body curled against the couch cushions like a sleepy cat. Hailey carried him upstairs, his arms wrapped trustingly around her neck, and tucked him into bed beneath the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck to his ceiling days ago.

"I love you!" He signed sleepily.

"I love you too, superhero," she whispered back, kissing his forehead. "Sweet dreams."

Hailey was halfway down the stairs when the kitchen window exploded.

The sound was like thunder in a bottle. Sharp, violent, and completely wrong in the quiet sanctuary of their home. Glass scattered across the linoleum floor like deadly confetti, and something heavy hit the ground with a wet thud.

Hailey's heart pounded like drumbeats as she crept toward the kitchen. Every horror movie she'd ever seen flooded her mind with terrible possibilities.

Her finger found the light switch, and fluorescent brightness flooded the room, revealing the carnage. A rock. Wrapped in paper. It lay there… a few inches from her feet.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded the note, and the words sucked the air out of her:

"I'm watching you! :)"

The handwriting was deliberately crude, each letter formed with the careful malice of someone who enjoyed causing fear. But it was the smell that made her stomach clench. Something sweet and cloying, like overripe fruit left to rot in the sun.

The kitchen window gaped open like a wound, the security grill twisted but intact. Someone had been close enough to touch their house and violate their space.

Why?

And… who?

Hailey grabbed her phone with desperate urgency, her fingers trembling as she typed: "Tyler, this isn't funny. Stop it. If you're outside, just go away."

The response came immediately: "What??? What are you talking about?"

Hailey's hands shook: "Don't lie to me. Someone threw a rock through our window with a note. If it's you trying to scare me..."

"Babe, I swear I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm at Murphy's Bar with Jake and Connor."

"Prove it."

Her phone rang immediately. A video call.

Tyler's face filled the screen, worry etched in his features, and behind him, she could see the familiar neon beer signs and crowded atmosphere of Murphy's Bar. Their friend Jake waved drunkenly in the background, completely oblivious to her terror.

"Hailey, what's going on? You're scaring me. What note? What rock?" Tyler questioned.

She told him everything, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to get them out. Tyler's face grew paler with each detail, then softened.

"Um, sounds like a prank to me! Must be the Jacksons' kid!" He laughed.

"Yeah, must be."

"Stop. Breathe. It's just a prank." But even as she told herself this and hung up, Hailey knew it wasn't true.

She'd felt eyes on her for weeks now, especially since they'd moved to Pine Creek Street three weeks ago. Little things that didn't quite add up.

The sensation of being watched while walking to school. Items on their porch that weren't quite where they'd left them. And the feeling that someone had been in the house while they were away.

Her phone buzzed, rattling her out of her thoughts.

Mom: "Having a wonderful time! Everything okay, honey?"

Hailey's fingers hovered over the keypad. She could tell the truth, ruin her mother's first real happiness in years, and drag her back into the cycle of fear and protection that had defined their lives since her dad died. Or...

Hailey: "Everything's perfect, Mom. Have fun! ❤️"

The lie tasted bitter, but it was the right thing to do. Nadia deserved one night of peace.

Hailey double-checked the front door locks and climbed the stairs to check on Hugo. He was still sleeping, the starlight from his nightlight casting gentle patterns across his peaceful face.

For a moment, she almost convinced herself that everything was fine.

She went downstairs when the window rattled just enough to let life almost jump out of her. She slowly walked over to the window to close it when she saw him.

The man across the street.

He stood beneath the broken streetlight, motionless as a scarecrow, wearing a dark hoodie that obscured his face. But Hailey could feel his attention like ice water in her veins. He was focused, patient, and malevolent.

As she watched, the man raised one hand in a slow, deliberate wave.

Hailey slammed the window shut so hard the glass rattled, but when she forced herself to look again, the man was gone.

Had he ever been there at all? Was her mind playing tricks, creating monsters out of shadows and fear?

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

The sound echoed through the house like a death knell, and Hailey's breath lodged in her throat. She crept to the front door, every instinct screaming at her not to look or acknowledge whoever stood on the other side.

The peephole revealed nothing but the empty porch and swaying shadows.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Go away!" she shouted. "I'll call the cops!"

The ringing stopped. Silence pressed against the windows like a living thing, and Hailey counted her heartbeats. One, two, three, four...

Then came a soft knock. Three gentle taps that were somehow more terrifying than any pounding. Against every rational thought screaming in her head, Hailey found herself drawn back to the peephole.

This time, the man stood directly in front of the door. He was tall and motionless, wearing dark clothes and a mask that looked like it had been carved from a fever dream.

The stranger stood perfectly still, as if he had all the time in the world... as if he knew she was watching. Then he tilted his head slowly to one side, like a curious predator studying its prey.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

He pounded on the door with enough force to rattle the frame, and now Hailey could hear breathing on the other side. Deep, deliberate inhalations that spoke of patience and terrible purpose.

"Leave us alone!" she screamed. "Go away!"

The pounding stopped. The breathing stopped. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Hailey sighed, sweat dripping down her temples.

Then the lights went out.

Darkness swallowed the house whole, and Hailey's phone flashlight carved a pitiful cone of illumination in the vast black. Her hands shook as she searched for candles, finally finding a collection of scented ones in the bathroom cabinet.

The flame of each one seemed pitifully small against the oppressive darkness, but they would have to do. For now.

Her phone was dying. The power bank she found had barely any charge left, but she managed to send one desperate text to her mother: "Mom, someone's here. Power's out. My phone's dying. Please come home."

The call to 911 connected just as her phone gave its final electronic wheeze and died completely.

From upstairs came the sound of music… a tinny, childish melody that made Hailey's blood freeze. She took the stairs three at a time, the candlelight casting manic shadows on the walls.

She burst into Hugo's room to find him standing by the open window, holding something in his small hands.

A music box. An antique thing with a dancing ballerina, playing that horrible, cheerful tune.

"Where did you get this?" she signed frantically.

"Window," Hugo signed back, his eyes wide and confused. "It was on the windowsill."

Muddy footprints led from the window to where Hugo stood, and Hailey's heart started racing. Someone had been in the house. Someone had climbed through the second-story window and left a present for her mute little brother.

"We're leaving," she whispered, scooping Hugo into her arms and running for the basement. It was the only place she could think of to hide. The only place with a single entrance that she might be able to defend.

***

The basement had become a tomb, the musty air thick with the smell of motor oil and something else. Something sweet and rotten that made Hailey's stomach clench.

Boxes towered around them like cardboard monuments, creating a maze of shadows where anything could be hiding.

Hailey dragged a nearby box and looked inside for the nearest help fate could offer. She found marbles. A plan struck as she grabbed them and hurried to fetch the can of motor oil.

They then huddled under the basement stairs and waited.

***

Footsteps creaked overhead, accompanied by the most terrifying sound Hailey had ever heard. Someone was singing that innocent children's song in a voice like rusted metal scraping against bone.

The melody drifted down from above, each note stretched and distorted into something obscene. The voice was wrong… too high in some places and too low in others, as if whoever was singing was fighting against their own vocal cords.

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands…"

CLAP. CLAP.

The sound echoed through the house like gunshots, followed by the man's maniacal laughter that made Hailey numb. Hugo pressed his face against her shoulder, his small body convulsing with silent sobs.

"Hush."

Hugo nodded.

Silence. A horrible, chilling silence that lasted just long enough for hope to creep back in engulfed them like a spell.

Then… CRASH.

The basement door exploded open with a thud that shook the entire handrail.

"If you're happy and you know it, STOMP your feet..." The man continued to sing.

Each footstep on the stairs was heavy, accompanied by that twisted singing that grew louder and more gleeful with each descending step.

The voice cracked and warbled, dissolving into giggles that sounded like breaking glass.

"If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely SHOW it..."

More laughter, wet and bubbling, as if the singer was drowning in his own amusement.

"If you're happy and you know it..."

A pause. Hailey could hear breathing… ragged, excited panting.

"CLAP YOUR HANDS!"

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

The applause went on and on, echoing off the basement walls like a one-man audience celebrating some private joke that only madness could appreciate.

Hailey had spread marbles on the floor and slicked the last few stairs with motor oil from an old can. But her makeshift defenses crumbled before the nightmare descended toward them.

The intruder paused at the top of the oiled stairs, and she heard him chuckle. A sound like cockroaches scuttling across broken glass.

"Oh, little girl," he sang in that horrible, distorted voice, "did you really think you could stop me with toys?"

Instead of falling for her trap, he gripped the banister and slid down like some twisted playground demon, his boots barely touching the treacherous steps.

He landed in a crouch among the scattered tools and boxes, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he listened for their breathing.

"I can smell your fear," he whispered, and his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Sweet little girl fear. And the silent boy... is he crying? I bet he is. I bet he's crying so hard, but no sound comes out. How... frustrating that must be."

A flashlight beam swept across the basement, painting everything in harsh white light that made the shadows dance like living things. When the light passed over their hiding spot, Hailey pressed Hugo's face against her chest and held her breath until her lungs burned.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the intruder sang in that mockery of childhood innocence. "I promise I won't hurt you... much."

The light went out, plunging them back into suffocating darkness. But Hailey could hear him moving. The soft scrape of boots on concrete. The gentle rustle of clothing. And the wet sound of breathing that seemed far too close to their hiding spot.

Then, from directly above them, a whisper: "Found you!"

"Hugo, RUN," she signed to her brother. "Upstairs. Neighbors. Help."

Hugo was small, quick, and silent. He made it to the stairs before the monster could react, scrambling up into the darkness above while Hailey served as bait, drawing the intruder's attention.

But the oil she'd spread was indiscriminate in its treachery. Her feet went out from under her as she tried to follow, and she crashed down hard enough to see stars.

The masked figure was on her instantly, his gloved hands reaching for her throat.

Hailey kicked and clawed and fought with the desperate strength of someone who had everything to lose. She broke free, stumbling up the stairs on hands and knees, slamming the basement door behind her.

Hugo was hiding behind the living room curtains, and together they ran for his bedroom window… the only escape route left.

Hailey helped him climb through first, whispering and signing desperate instructions about hiding and staying safe. She was halfway through the window herself when clammy, leather-gloved hands grabbed her ankles.

The voice was right behind her now, its breath hot and fetid against her neck. Each note dripped with malicious joy.

"Leave me, please," she begged as the stalker laughed.

"Oh, sweet little Hailey," he whispered. "Did you really think you could hide from me? I've been watching you for so long... learning your routines, fears, and your precious little family. And now it's time to play. Don't worry... I'll take very good care of your silent brother after you're gone. Maybe I'll teach him to scream."

"No, no, please," Hailey whispered, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "Please don't hurt him. He's just a little boy."

Her mind raced frantically as she spoke, trying to buy time while her eyes darted around the dark room. The window was so close, but his grip was too strong. Her free hand fumbled desperately along Hugo's dresser, searching for anything... a lamp, a book, anything heavy enough to stop this monster from reaching Hugo.

Her hand closed around the first weapon she could find, a heavy ceramic vase from Hugo's dresser. She swung it with all her strength, feeling it connect with something solid and wet.

The grip on her ankles loosened, and she heard cursing and the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor.

She ran before she'd fully processed what she'd done, collecting Hugo from his hiding spot in the bushes and sprinting toward the neighbor's house.

Behind them, 1247 Pine Creek Street sat in darkness, wounded and violated, but no longer hunting them.

***

The Jacksons called 911 while Hailey and Hugo huddled together on their couch, sharing a blanket and trying to stop shaking.

When Gerard's car pulled into the driveway 20 minutes later, followed immediately by a police cruiser with flashing lights, Hailey had never been so happy to see headlights.

Nadia burst through the Jacksons' door like an avenging angel, her face white with terror and guilt. She'd finally gotten Hailey's text when they'd left the restaurant, and the drive home had been the longest 20 minutes of her life.

"Oh God, oh God, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, gathering her children against her chest and holding them like she might never let go again. "I should've been here. I should've answered my phone. I'm so sorry, babies. Mommy's here now."

Tyler's pickup truck screeched into the driveway just as the police were leading a still-groggy stalker out in handcuffs. Tyler burst through the Jacksons' door, his face wild with panic and guilt.

"Hailey! Jesus, I'm so sorry. I should've come anyway. I should've…"

She threw herself into his arms, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with bar smoke and fear-sweat. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. It's over now."

But even as she said the words, she felt Tyler's body tense against hers. Over her shoulder, he was staring at something that made his face go white.

"Hailey, that guy they're arresting... I've seen him before. He delivered pizza to my apartment last week. He asked a lot of questions about you… what your schedule was like. I thought he was just being friendly, but..."

The implications hit them both at the same time. The stalker hadn't just been watching their house. He'd been systematically gathering information about their entire lives, mapping out their relationships and routines with the patience of a predator.

He'd been working as a pizza delivery driver, they learned later. He'd been in Hailey's house that very evening, smiling and friendly as he handed over her dinner while memorizing the layout. He'd been listening to their conversations, planning his campaign of terror.

"His name's Mike, estranged 40-year-old brother of the house's previous owner," Detective Smith explained as they stood in the police station.

"Why would he do this?" Nadia ran a hand over her head as Gerard stood beside her.

"Inheritance dispute," Detective Smith revealed. "He felt the house should've gone to him instead of being sold. Thought if he scared you off, the sale would fall through and he could swoop in with a low-ball offer."

***

It was over. Mike was in custody, facing charges of breaking and entering, stalking, and terroristic threatening. The nightmare was finished.

But as they drove home through the pre-dawn darkness, none of them saw the figure in a mask watching from the shadows near Pine Creek Street. Mike had a twin brother, and blood, as they say, is thicker than water.

Some nightmares, once awakened, are very hard to put back to sleep. The house at 1247 Pine Creek Street waited in the darkness, and somewhere in that darkness, something smiled.

If this story gave you goosebumps, here's another one about the haunting of the woman with the red umbrella: Carl and his young son move to Turner Street for a fresh start. But something's already waiting. Locals say every child who's seen it disappears... and now it's Toby’s turn.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.