The Window on Maple Street

August 18, 2026

by Lauretta

3 min read

Story Premise 3 min read (574 words)

"The night air was thick with the hum of crickets and the distant rumble of a freight train. At 2:47 AM, Mia and her best friend, Jenna, slipped out of Mia’s back door, their sneakers crunching on the gravel driveway. They had a mission: to conquer the old swings at the Maple Street Elementary School, […]"

The night air was thick with the hum of crickets and the distant rumble of a freight train. At 2:47 AM, Mia and her best friend, Jenna, slipped out of Mia’s back door, their sneakers crunching on the gravel driveway. They had a mission: to conquer the old swings at the Maple Street Elementary School, just four blocks away. The school was a squat brick building from the 1960s, its windows black and empty, but to two bored teenagers, it was the perfect late-night playground.

They took the swings in the corner, nearest to the kindergarten wing. The chains groaned with each pump, and Mia’s music blasted through earbuds, drowning out the world. She swung higher, feeling the wind rush past, when a flicker of movement caught her eye. In the second-floor window above the gymnasium, a pale shape—maybe a face—pressed against the glass. Mia blinked, but it was gone. She shrugged it off, blaming her imagination.

Then it moved again. A definite shift, a figure stepping back from the window, then returning. Mia’s swing slowed. She pulled out her earbuds and called to Jenna. ‘Hey, look up at that window. Do you see something?’ Jenna squinted, saw nothing, but just as she was about to say so, the shape reappeared—a small, hunched form, barely visible. Jenna’s smile faltered. ‘What the hell is that?’ they whispered, their swings still. The figure seemed to point at them, then vanished. They sprinted home, hearts racing, not speaking until they were safe inside.

The next day, Mia told her sisters, who were students at the school. They exchanged nervous glances. ‘Oh, that’s just the ghost of the girl who died in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor,’ they said, matter-of-factly. They didn’t know many details, only that she had been there for decades. Mia shuddered, but life moved on.

A week ago, Mia was scrolling through social media when she saw a post about a website cataloging haunted places. Curious, she clicked the link and found her old elementary school listed. The page had a grainy photo, a description of a spectral child, and a link to a ‘memorial’ forum. Mia felt a chill as she scrolled through the comments—people sharing their own sightings, all mentioning the same window. Then she saw a post from a user who claimed to be a former student from the 1970s. They wrote, ‘The girl didn’t just die. She was locked in that bathroom by bullies and left there over the weekend. She wasn’t a student. She was a runaway living in the boiler room.’

Mia’s blood ran cold. She remembered the figure’s gesture—not pointing at them, but beckoning. And that night, as she tried to sleep, she heard a faint scratching at her window. From inside the house. She sat up, heart pounding, and saw a small handprint on the glass, too small for any adult. It was gone before she could blink.

The next day, she returned to the school—in daylight this time, with Jenna. They found the bathroom, the one with the window. The door was locked, but the handle turned easily, as if greased. Inside, the air was damp and cold. On the tile floor, in what looked like dried brownish water, was a message: ‘STILL HERE.’ They fled, and Mia never looked at that window again without feeling a pair of eyes on her back.

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