The Green-Walled House

The house on Withered Lane had always been strange, but I never paid it much mind until the summer I turned nine. My family had moved to the small town of Ashford, and our new home was a creaking Victorian with peeling wallpaper and a garden that grew more weeds than flowers. My parents often left me with Mrs. Gable next door, but one evening, when they were invited to a dinner party across town, I begged to stay home alone, promising to be good. They reluctantly agreed, and I felt a thrill of independence as I watched their car disappear down the dusty road.

The kitchen was my domain that night. I stood at the sink, scrubbing a stubborn pot, the warm water soothing my hands. The house was silent except for the occasional groan of settling wood. Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw something in the reflection of the window above the sink. A face. It was a woman, her skin a sickly green like algae, her eyes pure white with no pupils, her mouth stretched into a wide, unnatural grin filled with long, needle-sharp teeth. Her hair was a straight, black curtain that hung to her waist. She stared at me, and I felt a cold dread seep into my bones. I blinked, and she was gone.

My heart hammered. I laughed nervously, thinking it was a trick of the light, a shadow. ‘Who’s there?’ I called out, my voice shaky. No answer. I dried my hands and walked down the hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms. ‘Who’s there?’ I repeated, louder. The hallway was empty, the doors all closed. I turned to go back, and as I did, I heard a door open and close behind me, followed by the slam of my bedroom door, which I never kept shut. The sound echoed through the silent house, and I felt a primal fear.

I ran to my room, but the doorknob wouldn’t turn. I pressed my ear against the wood, and I heard a faint scratching, like nails on a chalkboard, but slower, more deliberate. I fled to the living room and stayed there, huddled on the couch, until my parents returned. I told them what I saw, but they dismissed it as a dream. But I knew it wasn’t.

Over the next few weeks, I became obsessed with the idea of ghosts. I read every book on the paranormal I could find from the library, and I started a ‘ghost hunting’ club with two friends, Tom and Lily. We would come to my house after school, armed with flashlights and a tape recorder, hoping to capture evidence of the woman. But my bedroom door remained locked, and I would sometimes hear the scratching at night, as if she was waiting.

Then, one night, I woke up to see my bedroom door slightly ajar. A pale green light seeped through the crack, and I could hear a low, wet breathing. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The door opened wider, and I saw a figure standing in the hallway, silhouetted by that sickly green glow. It was her. She took a step into my room, her feet making no sound. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it to end. When I opened them, she was gone, and the door was closed.

The next day, I noticed something on my bedroom wall. A patch of green mold had formed in the shape of a woman’s face, exactly like the one I had seen. It seemed to be growing, spreading across the wall like a disease. I told my parents, but they thought it was just dampness. They painted over it, but within a week, the mold returned, more pronounced, with the face now grinning.

As I grew older, the encounters became rarer. I moved away for college, and the house was eventually sold. I thought I had escaped her. But one evening, years later, I received a call from the new owner. He sounded terrified. He said that his daughter had seen a green-faced woman in their kitchen, and that her room had been scratched at all night. I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew the house on Withered Lane would never let her go.

And now, as I write this, I see a familiar reflection in my window. The face is back, grinning in the glass, and my bedroom door is slowly creaking open. The green mold is spreading on my walls, and I realize that she never left me. She was always there, waiting, and she will follow me wherever I go.