The Girl in the Upstairs Window

By Azul Cubas

The first time I saw the girl in the upstairs window, I thought she was just another person walking around the neighborhood.

It was October 30, and my mom had just moved us into an old house at the end of a quiet street. The house was huge, with creaky wooden floors, dusty windows, and a staircase that seemed to go on forever. My mom said it was perfect because it was cheaper than most houses in the area. I thought it was perfect because it had a creepy attic and looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

My best friend, Kaylee, came over that afternoon to help me unpack. While we were carrying boxes into my room, she looked out the window and pointed toward the house across the street.

“Is someone watching us?” she asked.

I looked up. In the upstairs window of the house across the street stood a girl wearing a white dress. Her dark hair covered most of her face, and she was staring directly at us.

“Probably just a neighbor,” I said.

Kaylee kept looking at her. “Why isn't she moving?”

Before I could answer, the girl slowly stepped away from the window and disappeared.

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Every time I looked outside, I expected to see her standing there again. I finally convinced myself that I was just tired from moving.

Around midnight, I woke up to the sound of footsteps above my bedroom.

At first, I thought it was my mom walking around upstairs, but then I remembered that my bedroom was on the second floor. Above me was the attic.

The footsteps stopped.

Then three slow knocks came from the ceiling.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I pulled my blanket over my head and tried to fall asleep. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Kaylee.

Kaylee: Are you awake?

Me: Yeah. Why?

Kaylee: I just drove past your house.

Me: What do you mean?

Kaylee: There was someone standing in your upstairs window.

My stomach dropped.

Me: Which window?

Kaylee: The one right above your room.

I stared at the message, then slowly turned toward my bedroom window. Across the street, the house was completely dark.

I locked my bedroom door and stayed awake until morning.

The next day, I told my mom about the footsteps and the girl. She laughed a little and said the house was old, so the noises were probably just the pipes.

When I asked her about the girl across the street, her smile disappeared.

“What girl?” she asked.

“The one in the white dress.”

Mom stared at me for a moment before telling me not to go near that house. She said it had been empty for years.

That made absolutely no sense. I had seen someone standing in the window with my own eyes.

After school, Kaylee came over again. We decided to investigate the house across the street. If it really was empty, we wanted to know who—or what—we had seen.

We walked up the driveway and found the front door slightly open. The paint was peeling, the windows were covered in dust, and weeds grew through the cracks in the walkway.

“Maybe we should leave,” Kaylee whispered.

I was about to agree when we heard a voice from inside.

“Hello?”

It sounded like a young girl.

Kaylee grabbed my arm. We both stood frozen.

“Can you help me?” the voice called again.

It came from upstairs.

Before we could decide what to do, the front door slowly creaked wider. Neither of us had touched it.

We ran back to my house as fast as we could.

That evening, I searched the internet for information about the house. After scrolling through old news articles, I found a story from nearly twenty years ago.

A family had lived there with their young daughter, Emily. One night, during a terrible storm, the girl disappeared. The police searched the house and the surrounding neighborhood, but they never found her. Her parents moved away shortly afterward, and the house had remained empty ever since.

The article included an old photograph of Emily.

She had dark hair, pale skin, and a white dress.

She was the girl from the window.

I slammed my laptop shut.

I wanted to tell my mom, but I knew she would probably say it was a coincidence. Instead, I decided to sleep in her room that night.

At around 11:45 p.m., the power went out.

My mom went downstairs to check the electrical panel, leaving me alone in the living room. I turned on my phone flashlight and walked toward the hallway.

That was when I heard someone whisper my name.

“Come upstairs.”

I spun around.

At the top of the staircase stood Emily.

Her white dress hung loosely around her, and her dark hair covered her eyes. She didn't move. She simply stood there with one hand resting on the railing.

I couldn't speak.

Then she lifted her head.

“Please,” she whispered. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

I stumbled backward and ran into the kitchen. My mom returned a few seconds later, carrying a flashlight, and found me crying behind the counter.

When I told her what I had seen, she didn't laugh. She grabbed my hand, and we stayed at a hotel for the rest of the night.

The following morning, we returned to collect our things. Everything looked normal in the daylight, and I almost convinced myself that I had imagined the entire thing.

Then I noticed something on the staircase.

A small, dusty photograph lay on the bottom step.

I picked it up.

It showed Emily standing in front of the house across the street. Beside her was a woman I recognized immediately.

It was my mom.

I turned the photograph over. Written on the back were the words:

You promised you would come back for me.

I felt the room tilt around me.

When I confronted my mom, she went completely pale. After a long silence, she finally told me the truth.

She had grown up in the neighborhood and had been friends with Emily when they were children. On the night Emily disappeared, they had been playing hide-and-seek in the old house. My mom had left before finding her, assuming Emily had gone home.

She had never told anyone that she was the last person to see Emily alive.

“But why would she follow us here?” I asked.

My mom shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I don't know.”

We packed our things and left that afternoon. I thought moving away would be the end of it.

For the next few weeks, nothing happened. I went to school, hung out with Kaylee, and tried to forget everything. Eventually, I stopped checking my windows at night.

Then, on November 21, I woke up at exactly midnight.

My phone screen lit up beside my bed.

There was a notification from an unknown number.

It contained one photograph.

I opened it with shaking hands.

The picture showed my bedroom from outside the house. I could see myself sleeping in my bed, with the curtains slightly open.

Standing behind the glass was Emily.

Beneath the photograph were five words.

“You forgot to find me.”

I threw my phone across the room and screamed for my mom.

She rushed in, turned on the lights, and pulled me away from the window. We looked outside together.

There was nobody there.

But across the street, in the dark reflection of the glass, I saw a second figure standing behind us.

A little girl in a white dress.

I turned around.

The room was empty.

Then a whisper came from inside my closet.

“Found you.”