On the outskirts of a small town in rural Tennessee stood an old, abandoned house. Built in the late 1800s, it had once been a proud farmhouse with white-painted wood siding and a wraparound porch.
But now, the paint was chipped and faded, the wood warped, and the windows were cracked or missing. Vines climbed up the walls, and the yard was overgrown with weeds as tall as a person.
Locals whispered about the place, saying it was cursed. Some swore they saw strange lights flickering in the windows at night, even though there had been no electricity in the house for decades.
Others claimed to hear eerie sounds—like faint laughter or soft footsteps—when they passed by on quiet evenings.
One evening, a group of teenagers dared each other to go inside. The bravest of the bunch, Tyler, agreed to lead the way. They pushed open the creaky front door, which groaned loudly as if warning them to stay out. Inside, the house smelled of mold and dust, with floorboards that sagged underfoot.
As they explored, they found rooms that looked as if they’d been left in a hurry. A table was set for dinner, though the plates were covered in a thick layer of dust, and an old rocking chair faced a window, overlooking the tangled, forgotten yard.
But in the far corner of the living room, they found something that made them all stop: a diary lying open, its pages yellowed with age. Tyler picked it up, and the group gathered around as he read the last entry, dated October 12, 1923.
“He’s coming again tonight,” it read in shaky handwriting. “No one believes me, but I hear him every night, pacing the halls, whispering my name. Tonight, I’m going to leave. I have to, before he takes me like he did Sarah.”
At that moment, they heard a soft creak upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. One by one, the friends turned to each other, fear widening their eyes, and they bolted for the door. Outside, they caught their breath, the chill of what they’d seen settling into their bones.
That night, the locals reported seeing lights flickering in the old house again, even brighter than before.
And from that day on, none of those teenagers would ever go near the house again, leaving it to remain a mystery, a memory trapped in time, filled with secrets that would never be spoken.