The Ledge of the Water Tower

November 4, 2026

by Alycia

3 min read

Story Premise 3 min read (545 words)

"It was the summer I turned twelve, and my mother had signed me up for the Pathfinders, a nature club that promised adventures in the great outdoors. Our big trip was to Blackwood Valley, a place shrouded in mist and legend. We stayed in a rustic lodge at the edge of an old logging town, […]"

It was the summer I turned twelve, and my mother had signed me up for the Pathfinders, a nature club that promised adventures in the great outdoors. Our big trip was to Blackwood Valley, a place shrouded in mist and legend. We stayed in a rustic lodge at the edge of an old logging town, and our days were filled with hikes and campfire songs. But the real attraction was the ghost tour we took on our last night.

The tour guide, a wiry man with a voice like gravel, led us through the moonlit streets of the abandoned mill town. He told us about the water tower that loomed over the town square, and the girl, Elsbeth, who had climbed it on a dare and fallen to her death. The next night, he said, a tour group had seen her standing on the tower’s ledge, looking down. I was utterly captivated. I wanted to see her.

A few weeks after returning home, I couldn’t sleep. My bedroom was in the attic of our old farmhouse, and I had to go down the narrow stairs to use the bathroom. One night, as I descended, the floorboard creaked, and I froze. The kitchen doorway was visible from the landing, and I saw a faint, bluish glow emanating from it. I thought it was just the moonlight, but then I saw a figure standing there—a girl in a long dress, her hair plastered to her face. She was standing on the threshold, and she seemed to be looking at me.

I blinked, and she was gone. I told myself it was a trick of the light, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was watching me. The next night, I was braver. I crept down the stairs and peered into the kitchen. The glowing figure was back, but this time she was pointing at the kitchen clock. It read 3:00 AM. The same time the tour guide had mentioned for Elsbeth’s fall.

I started to feel a pull, as if something wanted me to go to the old water tower in our town. But our town didn’t have a water tower like that. It had a grain silo. I knew what I had to do. On the next night, at 3:00 AM, I snuck out and walked to the silo. I climbed the rusty ladder to the top, my heart pounding. When I reached the ledge, I saw the figure again, standing there, beckoning me.

I stepped onto the ledge, and the wind howled. The figure turned to me and mouthed, ‘Jump.’ I looked down, and in the moonlight, I saw the ground far below. I felt a cold hand on my back, and I realized the figure was no longer on the ledge but behind me. She pushed. And as I fell, I saw her smile.

I woke up in a hospital bed, my leg in a cast. The doctors said I had fallen from the silo, but I survived. I told my mother about the girl, and she said I had a vivid imagination. But I know what I saw. And now, when I look in the mirror, I see a faint glow in my own reflection. She’s still here, and she wants company.

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