I was told never to travel to 375 Oakwood Lane but here I was, defeated by my own curiosity. As a little girl, I was always drawn to the place, my eyes never leaving its haunting presence. There was not only that but, I would dream of being inside the house. I would feel like I actually belonged there, that there was something inside of the house that needed me. Its original owners had long abandoned the house, back in the 1800s. It was a beautiful home, no doubt about that. Its Victorian architecture was truly a treat for one’s eyes. The house was deserted; its big bay windows seemed to stare at me, beckoning me to venture inside. As I crept up the ancient stairs, they welcomed my presence with an abrupt creak. I was trembling, not because of the fear of getting caught. There was something else to be afraid of, something far more sinister.
A family from France, the Clares, had a house built on Oakwood Lane. The first few years of their lives were pretty normal; wife, husband and daughter all lived in harmony until a tragic event began to unfold. The daughter, Colette, fell ill to a rare, chronic disease. The girl died in a short few months at only seven years of age. Unable to cope with their daughter’s death, the Clares moved out of the house, leaving their daughter and their memories with her, far, far behind. It is said that her ghost haunts this place. Anyone unlucky enough to step over the threshold is thrust into the girl’s own memories, causing the person to re-live the girl’s life. Ever since I was a child, I would hear whispers of this legend, and so, it was decided. I would go there myself and see if the rumors were true. Gathering whatever courage I could muster, I held my breath and opened the still intact, red oak door. Everything in my body was screaming for me to turn back, however I could not. I had to know the truth. I slowly walked over the threshold, preparing myself for the worst. The house miraculously, was still furnished. A big grandfather clock that seemed to be hundreds of years old still ticked. No dust lay on the furniture, everything seemed to be as good as new, but how could that be possible? Was there somebody taking care of the house? I stepped forward, and caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I quickly turned, but to my surprise, no one was there. Perhaps it was the caretaker?
“Hello, is anyone here?”
It was then when I first heard it. I could not believe my ears. A piano was being played in the other room. The beautiful music began to fill my ears; its hypnotic melody began to consume me, making my curiosity grow even fiercer. Quietly, I opened the wooden door and stepped inside. A young girl with a china doll complexion, golden curls and amethyst eyes was sitting at the piano. She was garbed in what seemed to be an old black dress, complete with white stockings and black doll-like shoes. A feeling of up most dread struck my body. I could not move, I could not speak. The rumors were true all along; there she was, Colette, not more than seven, playing the piano with perfection. She stopped playing, her eyes moving from the sheet of music, to my own. A smile graced her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. She stood up and began to walk slowly towards me. Frozen in fear, I reached for the doorknob behind me. However, it was no longer there. I turned to leave; yet I stopped in my tracks. It seemed that the room itself was melting away, the colors all-blending into the darkness that surrounded it. I could not turn back. I was trapped in this little girl’s game of cat and mouse, and I was her toy. Her smile widened as she came even closer to me, the room melting out from under us. I wanted to let out a scream but I could not, all sound was lost here, all reasoning. There was nothing I could do but give in. I stepped forward to meet the girl, our bodies a few feet apart.  She extended her hand, reaching out for me. Reluctantly, I placed my hand in hers, letting fate take its course. She smiled up at me, reassuring me that I made the right choice. All I can remember is that then, I felt a quick, cold rush of air. We were falling, falling into the black abyss. As we began to fall, I caught glimpses of her past, of her family. They were all so happy together, laughing and playing. I smiled, the scene warming my heart. Colette frowned at me and shook her head. She pointed to the far left. My eyes followed her finger, but I already knew, deep within my heart what I would see. I couldn’t help but stare, in utter disgust and horror. A young man, who seemed to be her father, was preparing her medicine in the kitchen. All seemed normal until he began to look around, suspiciously. He walked over and locked the kitchen door. He then, pulled a vial of what seemed to be a foul dark-green liquid and slipped it into Colette’s medicine. With a sick grin of satisfaction, he carried the tray up to Colette’s room.
“This will help make you feel better, Colette.”
The vision began to fade, and all was dark again. A feeling of utter despair and grief filled my being. I could not fathom what would possess a father to do such a thing to his own flesh and blood.
“You didn’t die of a disease, did you, Colette? Your father, he poisoned you, didn’t he?!”
Colette’s eyes were filled with sorrow. Her head hung low and she began to slowly nod. Her own father had taken her life. After the feelings of sorrow began to disperse, my body began to shake with rage. Colette’s father, Caleb Clare, had been a man that the town respected with up most importance. After he moved, he did so much for this town. He built hospitals, schools and libraries; he donated money to the poor. I now realize that it was all out of guilt, to hide the evil truth that was rotting the man inside out.
The darkness began to fade, the walls slowly beginning to form. Splashes of color began to form into furniture and then, the whole house was back, as if the transformation had never taken place. Colette stood before me, awaiting my next move with hungry, eager eyes.
“What do you want me to do?”
Colette’s face lit up with an excited, pleased smile. She grabbed my hand with her cold one and led me out the door, towards the entrance to the house. Colette pointed to my little black Toyota that was parked out front. Before I could ask her what she was implying, Colette dashed out the door, running towards the woods. Where was this girl going to lead me next?
Obeying the girl’s command, I stepped outside into the sunlight. The sun however, seemed to melt away into the sky, it’s color a bright crimson red. The trees all seemed to blur into the background, forming haunting images that seemed to shake my soul. With an eagerness to end this charade, I dusted the fallen, black leaves off of my car and stepped inside. I put my key into the ignition and stepped on the gas. To help calm my nerves, I tried to turn on the radio. I pushed the dial and at once was greeted with a bright, polite, female voice.

“1100 Crown Street, Crown Point, New York.”

After that, there was nothing but static. Was this where I was supposed to go? Crown Point was about a forty-five minute drive. Was this where the Clares moved to after Colette’s death? No cars seemed to pass or meet my own. The sky began to turn as red as the sun itself, the trees becoming brown smears on the canvas-like sky. I was still in Colette’s world, would it matter if I sped up? Testing the limits of the newfound world, I pressed my gas pedal all the way down to the floor. I was now going a neck-breaking 120 miles per hour. The world began to blur around me, the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Oddly enough, I had never felt so alive. Within 10 minutes, I had entered Crown Point. Now all that was left was to find Crown Street. As if she had heard my request, I drove right up to the street and then down it. The houses all seemed to be as empty and as desolate as Colette’s own home. I drove slowly down the street, scanning the numbers for 1100. I spotted it further down the road; it’s white gleaming paint shimmering against the setting sun. My blood ran cold; this was no doubt, Caleb Clare’s house. I pulled my car into the empty drive way. I unfastened my seatbelt and stepped out of the car, marveling at the magnificent home. It was just as big as the house on Oakwood Lane, yet it looked remotely newer. No light shown through the empty windows. Quietly, I crept up to the front window and peered inside. There was nothing inside. No furniture, no people, not any proof that life had existed here. Was Colette toying with me?
With a forlorn expression, I turned to walk back to my car. As if she had read my mind, Colette stood a few feet in front of me, beaming a grateful smile up at me. She looked at the house and frowned; as if she could feel the disheartening energy the house gave off. Colette grabbed for my hand once more and squeezed it tightly. She was just afraid as I was.
“Don’t worry, we’ll face this together.”
My words had changed Colette’s look of sorrow to one of hope. She nodded and we both walked toward the big, black front door. As I was about to open it, the door swung open, slamming itself on the creamy-white wall behind it. Tightly grasping Colette’s hand, I stepped inside my impending doom. The house was as dark as night, giving me a feeling of dread. I wish I could have gone back, I wanted to go home. However, my fate was sealed, I had to help Colette. As we began to walk through the house the air turned as cold as ice. The room began to spin, making me feel light-headed. I could feel myself losing control of my body; the room began to grow faint and blurry. The being that dwelled here had noticed our presence, and it was hungry. Colette hid behind my body, and grasped at my clothes. She closed her eyes and pointed to the corner of the room, her finger shaking with fear. I took a deep breath and let go of her hand. I walked forward, farther into the darkness. A hulking black, demon-like creature with piercing red eyes sat in the corner of the house. He emitted a dark, sickening aura from his body. I could feel the hot breath emitting from the creature’s mouth.

“Who dares to enter my abode at this hour? What are YOU doing here?”

A small smirk began to form on my face. My courage was building, as I remembered who this creature really was. It was time for him to meet the hand of justice.

“Yes I know who you are, Caleb Clare, a liar and a murderer.”

The creature roared at me, bearing its bloodstained teeth. Who or what ever was here before, had met its demise. I would be different, I would fight for Colette, and I would fight for the truth. However, one question remained unanswered. How would I, a girl of my stature fight against something so sinister and of course, something already dead? Colette then immediately stepped in front of me, blocking Caleb’s path. She smiled at the creature, her amethyst eyes glowing in the darkness. It became clear to me then. This wasn’t my fight, it was Colette’s. I had merely helped her come here. Colette crept forwards to her father, her smile never fading.

“Colette, is that you, but how? My sweet daughter, you have returned to me!”

“Why did you do this to me father, why, why?!”

Colette’s beautiful, radiant eyes filled with tears. I reached out for her, embracing her in a tight hug. I could not shield her from her the truth I knew her father was about to spew from his twisted, evil mouth. Caleb’s red, menacing eyes grew brighter in the darkness. He loved every minute of his daughter’s pain

“My dear isn’t it obvious? Before you were born your mother and I were so much in love. However when you were brought into the world, your wretched birth changed all of that. She began to focus and love you; her love for you outshined her love for me. I couldn’t live with that.”

My stomach was in complete knots. The rage that burned inside of me grew fiercer. I wanted him to feel the pain that Colette had felt when she had been alone in that house. I wanted him to pay. Colette sensing my anger lifted her arm, telling me to calm down.

Colette’s smile would only grow wider. She shook her head slowly, back and forth. Her revenge would be fulfilled today; her death would not be in vain. Colette raised her right hand to her father, her eyes never leaving his. Caleb’s booming laugh filled the house, causing the walls to shake.

“Didn’t I raise you better, Colette? Now come here and give your father a hug.”

A bright light began to shine from Colette’s hand. My eyes widened, I could not believe what they were seeing, what Colette was doing. The light bounced off the cream colored walls, blinding my vision. I could barely make out the shadow of a man, writhing in pain.

“Wh-what are you doing Colette, I am your father, stop this now!”

The orb of light in Colette’s hand only grew bigger. Her smile twisted into an evil grin. I could only stand there and watch the events beginning to unfold, much like a movie. The orb consumed the entire room, blinding my sight completely. I had to turn away from the scene; the newfound light began to burn my eyes.

“This will make you feel better, father.”

Her words were a complete mockery of her father’s last words to her. I could only stand there in horror as the creature began to shriek in pain, and then, there was silence. The light vanished just as quickly as it had come. I felt a cold hand touch my shoulder. I turned around and smiled down at the girl, I could not be happier for her. However, the hand on my shoulder began to fade away, as did Colette. She was fading away into nothing. All I could see was her grateful, tired smile. I smiled back, knowing that her time had come. Colette would find eternal peace on the other side; her vengeance had been wrought, her story had been told. Knowing what I must do, I exited the house. I looked upon it with one last glance; a deep feeling of satisfaction filled my soul. I had laid the girl’s soul to rest. Adorning a smile that matched my pride, I entered my car and began to drive home. The sun was no longer red, the sky no longer muddy with the vague images of trees. People were bustling around, enjoying the new day. It seemed the orange light of hope was shinning down upon me with gratitude, the sky itself, was cloudless. It was a beautiful autumn day. I would stop at an intersection and notice a piece of old, torn parchment on my passenger seat. With trembling hands, I slowly opened the parchment. In dark, black, beautiful letters, it read:

“Thank you, Momma.”

Some say the house on 375 Oakwood Lane is a haunted, sinister place. They say to never cross its threshold, to never seek out the little girl who resided there. However, I believe that the house contained nothing more than a girl who needed justice and of course, her own mother.