The house at the end of the street had been boarded up for as long as Rowan could remember.

It was the kind of house kids whispered about during sleepovers, daring each other to throw rocks at its windows or peek through the slats. It sat behind a gate of rusted iron and ivy, where the road cracked and narrowed as if even the pavement didn’t want to get too close.

No one ever came or went. No mail. No lights. No footsteps.

Rowan passed it every day on their way to school and every night on their walk home, eyes flicking toward its crooked outline.

And today—after seventeen years of wondering—they finally stepped through the gate.

It creaked like something waking up.

Inside the overgrown yard, silence grew thick. Weeds brushed against Rowan’s ankles like curious fingers. The front door was chained, but the side entrance, tucked between two collapsing walls, was pried open just enough to slip through.

The air inside was still. Heavy. It smelled like dust and old rain. Rowan flicked on their flashlight.

The beam caught fragments of old furniture covered in sheets, wallpaper peeling in long strips, and picture frames turned backward against the walls. Every mirror they passed was cracked—some shattered entirely.

They tried not to think about why.

Then they saw it. trail of child-sized footprints in the dust, fresh enough to still look wet. But there hadn’t been rain in days.

Rowan followed them.

They led down a hallway to a locked door.

The handle was cold. Too cold.

And then… something on the other side knocked back.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. Rowan stumbled away, heart racing. As they turned to leave, a photo on the ground caught their eye.

It was of a little girl, no more than seven, standing on the house’s front porch—smiling, arms around a small black cat.

The girl looked familiar.

Too familiar.

Rowan picked it up and froze.

Written on the back, in faded pencil: Rowan. Summer 2008.

Their breath caught.

They didn’t remember ever being here But the cat… the smile… the handwriting—it was all theirs.

The house groaned, shifting around them.

And from the locked door behind, a whisper slithered out: “Welcome home.”