The Snow
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| Madison Pierce |
Madison Pierce wasn't the type of person who scared easily. She was known for her calm, composed demeanor, even in the face of uncertainty. Yet now, she stood frozen in the long, narrow hallway of the old house she had just moved into with her new husband, Ethan.
It was their first winter together in the remote town of Fernie, British Columbia. The house, a heritage property built in the early 1900s, had a rustic charm that Madison initially fell in love with. But tonight, it felt different. Cold. Foreboding.
Outside, the snow fell heavily, the thick, white flakes illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. The window at the far end of the hallway framed the scene, casting long, eerie shadows across the wooden floor. Madison's breath caught in her throat. Was it the cold that sent a shiver down her spine, or something more sinister?
She squinted into the shadows, trying to steady her nerves, but her eyes played tricks on her. For a moment, she was sure she saw a figure—an old woman with a tattered grey cloak, wild silver hair, and a gaunt, sharp face. Her heart skipped a beat. Had she really seen that? Or was it just a trick of the light?
The wind howled outside, rattling the old windows, and Madison shook her head, laughing nervously. "Get it together," she muttered to herself. "There’s no one here."
But then, as if carried on the wind, she heard a faint whisper, almost too quiet to catch: "You were warned… this is the last time…"
Her pulse quickened. She forced a breath, trying to dismiss it as her imagination running wild. After all, the house was old, creaky, and full of character. Surely, it was just settling in the cold.
Yet, the sounds grew louder, more distinct. Footsteps? No—running water? No, it sounded like something scratching at the walls. Madison’s eyes darted down the hall again, and this time, she was certain she saw something. The same cloak, the same pale face. And on the figure’s right hand—a glint of gold. A ring.
She blinked rapidly, her rational mind trying to explain it away. "It’s nothing. Just the snow… just shadows," she told herself. But the whisper came again, louder this time: "The last time…"
Panic welled in her chest. She wasn’t usually prone to fear, but something about this house, this night, was different. It wasn’t the usual creaks or groans of an old house. It was something alive—something waiting.
Suddenly, from the kitchen, a loud crash echoed through the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Madison gasped, her body tense, ready to flee. She wasn’t alone in the house, was she?
And then, almost on cue, the faint sound of singing drifted through the frosty air. The local church choir—she’d forgotten they were caroling tonight. Their voices, sweet and innocent, filled the house with a strange contrast of warmth and cold. It pulled her back to reality, momentarily breaking the grip of terror.
Ethan appeared from the study, his face lit by the fire’s glow. He smiled at her, but his expression was weary. "Everything okay, Maddie?"
She nodded, though her heart still raced. The presence of the carolers outside and Ethan nearby made her feel safer. But the weight of what she had just seen—or thought she saw—hung heavily in the back of her mind.
As the carolers’ voices faded into the night, Ethan walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "You’ve been on edge all day. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?"
Madison gave a weak smile. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little jumpy, I guess. The house... it feels strange tonight."
Ethan frowned. "It’s the snow, Maddie. It always feels eerie when it snows this heavy."
She nodded, trying to convince herself he was right. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just the snow. Something about the house itself unsettled her. The whispers, the shadows—they felt real.
Later, after the fire had died down and the house was quiet, Madison lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Ethan was asleep beside her, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. But Madison couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her. The sense of being observed, of someone—or something—lurking in the shadows.
She rolled over and looked toward the window. The snow was still falling, thick and relentless, coating everything in white. The streetlamp’s glow barely pierced the darkness now, but something about the window made her blood run cold. A figure—there it was again. That same pale face, the same cloak, standing outside, staring back at her through the glass. She wanted to scream, to wake Ethan, but her voice caught in her throat.
As she stared in horror, the figure raised its hand—there, glinting in the dim light, was the same gold ring. It wasn’t a trick of the light. This was real.
She shot upright in bed, her chest heaving, eyes wide with terror. But when she blinked, the figure was gone. The window was empty. Just the snow.
Her heart raced as she climbed out of bed, her feet cold on the wooden floor. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t sleep in this house another night. She rushed down the hall, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She had to get out.
Suddenly, as she reached the front door, a voice whispered in her ear—louder this time, unmistakable: "This is the last time..."
Madison froze, her hand on the doorknob. She turned slowly, her pulse pounding in her ears. The hallway was empty, but she felt it. The presence. The cold seeped into her bones as she stood there, unable to move.
In the distance, the sound of the church bells echoed through the snowy night, but they couldn’t drown out the whisper: "The last time..."
#HorrorStory #HauntedHouse #BritishColumbia #SuspenseThriller #GothicHorror #WinterTerror #SnowyNight #CreepyTales #ParanormalActivity #GhostStory #CanadaHorror #ScaryStory #Thriller2024 #GhostWhispers #MysteryHouse
Disclaimer:
The author of this story is Syed Salman Mehdi, a writer from Pakistan who speaks and writes English, though not at the level of a native English speaker. I use ChatGPT to help enhance the text and make it more compelling for readers. If you enjoyed this story or my writing style, feel free to contact me! I can help write for you using ChatGPT.
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