Keisha’s fresh start in a new town turns into horror when she finds out her home is haunted. The single mother doesn’t believe in ghosts but can’t deny what she sees when night falls.

Keisha still couldn’t believe her good luck. She stared up at the gorgeous gingerbread trim decorating her newly-acquired house’s wraparound porch and steep gables. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, filled with junk from previous occupants, but it was sound, and it was all hers.

As Keisha turned back to check on the movers, she noticed her neighbors watching over the low hedge bordering the property.

“Good morning!” Keisha smiled as she waved at the young couple, but her plan to befriend the neighbors died quickly as the pair hastily climbed into their car and sped away without glancing back at her.

“Guess the people around here aren’t too friendly,” Keisha sighed.

Later strange looks and whispering intensified when Keisha and her kids entered the local coffee shop. It was starting to make Keisha uneasy. She glanced at the people sitting at the tables, but everyone looked away when she tried to meet their gaze.

Instead, Keisha studied the historical pictures of local landmarks decorating the walls. When she glanced over at the table where Carter and Ava were waiting, they pulled funny faces at her, making her smile.

“Hi there!” The barista greeted Keisha with a warm smile. “You must be the new folks in town. I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

“So there are some friendly people in this town.” Keisha returned the man’s smile as she ordered funnel cakes for her and the kids. “I was beginning to think everyone here hated newcomers or something.”

“It’s not like that at all.” Sam’s face turned serious, and he glanced around before leaning over the counter. “You live in that old, blue Victorian house on Park, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Keisha replied. “What about it?”

“That house is haunted,” Sam whispered.

“Haunted?” Keisha almost laughed, but the barista nodded solemnly.

“Not just any old haunted either. Old man Jefferson who used to own that place, was a psychic medium. He used to hold all these seances, and it’s said that he opened a spiritual nexus in that house. Nobody has been able to stay in that house since he died,” Sam continued.

“Seriously?” she asked in disbelief.

“It’s cursed. Jefferson’s granddaughter had to sell the place because of debts, and everyone who has lived there since complained of flashing lights, things moving around, and strange voices calling to them. Some people even went mad.”

“So what, people think I’m going to go mad next?” Keisha asked.

“No,” an elderly lady with a jagged scar on her chin said. “We know you were cursed when you stepped into that house. Now get out. We don’t want you bringing evil into our shop.”

“Mom, stop it.” The barista turned to frown at the woman.

“Quiet, you!” The woman gave the barista a sharp glance. “Stop talking to her. Best to get her out as quick as possible.”

“You can’t deny me service because of some old ghost story,” Keisha said, outraged.

“Go!” The lady said, gesturing with her fingers. “Get out of my shop and don’t come back.”

Keisha didn’t believe in curses, ghosts, or other supernatural nonsense. But she was woken up at midnight by the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall. Grabbing the baseball bat next to her bed, she exited her room and saw the flickering lights in the hall, which cast odd shadows on the floor. The hall was empty. But chills went down her spine when a voice echoed.

She raised her baseball bat and spun to face the darkness in her bedroom. Nobody was there. But the sound of movement downstairs had her racing to check on her kids, who shared a room on the first floor.

“Mom, did you also hear those sounds?” Carter whimpered.

“I told you, Carter, it’s just because the house is old, right, Mom?” Ava said, but her eyes showed real fear. The bedroom door slammed into the wall, making them all jump and scream. Keisha ran out of the kid’s room.

Instead of an intruder, she saw smoke billowing through the floor, curling around her feet. A whispered chant in a strange language echoed as the air got colder. Footsteps unexpectedly came from the end of the hall. Lights began flicking, and the single mother couldn’t take them anymore.

She grabbed the kids and brought them outside, hugging them tightly on the porch as she called the police. But they were less than helpful as there were no signs of breaking in.

“I’m well aware that this house has a reputation for being haunted, but the police will not entertain any more false alarm calls to this address,” the officer warned her after a while. “You could be fined or arrested for wasting a cop’s time.”

Her kids were terrified when the cops left, but when they asked if the house was haunted, Keisha fiercely said, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

The following day, Keisha started packing. Ghosts may not be real, but her children weren’t safe in that house. After a while, she realized some of her kids’ clothes were in the laundry machine in the basement and rushed down quickly.

A black leather glove sat in a corner. It was too big, which meant someone – not a ghost – had been in her house. Using her phone’s flashlight, Keisha began to inspect the entire basement. There wasn’t anything obviously wrong, but her instincts were on high alert.

But her eyes went to the floor, noticing an unusual dirt pattern leading to the wood panel on the wall. It was curved as if someone had disturbed the messy floor by… opening a door. Her eyes flared as she grabbed at the edges of the wood paneling.

Her fingers found purchased, and although hard, the wood paneling twisted to reveal a secret passage. Keisha had seen enough horror movies not to go in there, and her penchant for detective stories told her the truth: her house wasn’t haunted. Someone wanted her to think so.

Keisha forgot about packing and went straight to the library. After talking to the librarian, she searched through old newspaper archives and learned that the house belonged to the Barlow family until Anna’s daughter sold it.

The librarian said Anna died after the sale, which started the curse rumors. Mr. Barlow was the medium in the family, and several articles about him were in the papers.

“Local psychic medium dies in his sleep,” Keisha read aloud. “Instead of an inheritance, he left his daughter a riddle leading to a hidden treasure.”

The story only got stranger as Keisha read. According to the reporter, Mr. Barlow inherited a vast wealth when his mother died, retired early, and spent the rest of his life working as a medium. Anna refused to share anything about the riddle.

“Guess she never found that treasure,” Keisha muttered as she spotted a picture of Mr. Barlow. He wasn’t alone. Two girls were with him, but something else prickled Keisha’s memories.

Keisha returned to her house and searched while an idea formed. Afterward, she went to the coffee shop, smiling brightly to greet Sam.

“You look chipper,” he commented.

“I’ve had a great day!” She leaned across the counter to whisper: “I found a treasure in that old house. It’s going to set me up for life!”

“Really?” Sam gaped at her. “Wow, congratulations.”

That evening, Keisha sat in the darkness. Waiting. The night was cold as a tomb around her. Minutes ticked into an eternity of waiting before a gentle thud of boots on dirt echoed in the distance. Someone was coming down the secret tunnel.

Hinges creaked as the secret door disguised as the wood paneling eased open. A light beam edged along the wall and floor, creeping toward where Keisha waited. Just as it was about to reveal her, the light went out, leaving the intruder and her in the quiet darkness.

“Now,” Keisha cried, breaking the silence.

Bright flashlights lit up the basement from all corners as the police officers responded to her signal. The trespasser yelped in surprise while the cops raised their arms and told the criminal not to move.

“I knew it!” Keisha pointed at the barista, gloating. “With all the times you must’ve been through this house searching for treasure, it’s amazing that you never removed the old photos and documents.”

Sam only glared at her, but Keisha grabbed the papers and a photograph, claiming it was enough evidence to put Sam in jail.

“I’ve done nothing wrong. My family has as much right to this house and the treasure as Aunt Anna did, and my spoiled cousin, Julia, had no right to sell it! Those people lived easy lives on Grandpa Johnson’s coattails while my mom had to work hard for everything she got.”

“I’m afraid these documents suggest a different story, Sam. These letters say your mother was jealous of her stepsister,” Keisha countered, waving the papers in her hands.

Sam laughed bitterly. “Johnson always favored his daughter over his stepdaughter, my mom. And Anna always thought she was better than Mom because of it. Anna and Julia got exactly what they deserved.”

“I think that’s all we need, ma’am,” the police officer nodded at her. “Your trick worked, and now I want you to show me the special effects you mentioned.”

“Trick?” Sam fought while being cuffed.

“These are blank,” she answered. “But I needed you to think I found something to get you to come here and talk. Now, it’s time to reveal the truth about your grandfather’s psychic abilities.”

Keisha went through the entire house, showing the traps, wires, and special lights and smoke machines that caused the haunted effects over the years, which the medium used for his readings.

Even the cops were surprised.

“So much for the famous medium’s mystical powers,” one officer scoffed. He steered Sam toward the stairs. “Now we just need to pick up your mother.”

“Wait!” Sam dug his heels in and glared at Keisha. “How did you know it was me?”

She showed her phone with the picture she had taken at the library. “The same photo is hanging in your coffee shop; I noticed it when I was first there. Your mother may not have that scar in this picture, but still looks the same.”

The cops took Sam and later arrested his mother. But Keisha paid them no mind. “This place is going to be awesome for hosting Halloween parties,” she laughed and pressed a button to release some smoke.

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This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.