English Short Stories to Improve English

The Haunting of Willow Creek Manor Story for Children

English Stories

Sharing is caring!

Willow Creek Manor had always been the talk of the town. It was a large, old house, standing alone at the edge of the village. For as long as anyone could remember, it had been abandoned, its windows dark and its gates rusted.
The villagers whispered stories about the house, tales of strange noises at night, lights flickering in the windows when no one was inside, and an eerie feeling that lingered around the property. But no one ever dared to go near it.

That is, until Mia came to town.

Mia was a young woman who had recently moved to the village. She was fascinated by history and loved to explore old, forgotten places. When she heard the stories about Willow Creek Manor, her curiosity got the best of her. She couldn’t resist the idea of uncovering the truth behind the haunting.

One evening, as the sun began to set, Mia made her way to the manor. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the wind carried an unsettling chill. The gate creaked as she pushed it open, and the sound echoed through the silent surroundings.

The manor loomed ahead, its towering presence intimidating and yet strangely inviting. Mia took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and stepped inside the overgrown yard. The grass was tall and wild, the bushes thick with thorns. Despite the silence, there was an odd hum in the air, like the house itself was alive, watching her.

Mia approached the front door, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath her. The door was large, made of dark wood, and covered in ivy. It was slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for her. She pushed it open, and it groaned in protest, revealing the dark interior of the manor.

The air inside was musty, thick with dust. Mia’s flashlight flickered as she stepped further into the entryway. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and the walls were lined with faded portraits of long-forgotten faces. The house seemed frozen in time, as if it had been abandoned in a hurry.

Mia moved deeper into the house, her flashlight beam illuminating the forgotten furniture—a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, an old fireplace with a blackened hearth, and shelves filled with broken porcelain dolls and cracked picture frames. The house was a shell of its former glory, but there was something strangely beautiful about it.

As she explored, Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. She would hear soft footsteps behind her, or the faint sound of a door closing when she was sure she had been alone in the room. Each time, she would turn, only to find the space empty. Still, her curiosity pushed her forward.

In the grand hall, Mia came across a spiral staircase leading to the second floor. The banister was covered in dust, and the steps creaked as she climbed. As she reached the top, the temperature seemed to drop, and the silence was suffocating. She looked down the long hallway, where several doors stood open, their interiors hidden in shadow.

It was then that she heard it—a soft whisper, almost too faint to catch. Mia froze, her heart racing. The voice was coming from one of the rooms down the hallway. It was a woman’s voice, low and sorrowful.

“Help me,” the voice whispered.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, or if the voice had truly come from inside the house. She slowly moved toward the door at the end of the hallway, her footsteps hesitant but determined.

The door creaked open as she pushed it, revealing a small, dimly lit room. The air inside felt heavier, colder. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a large, ornate mirror hung above the fireplace. But it wasn’t the room that caught Mia’s attention—it was the figure standing by the window.

The woman was dressed in an old-fashioned gown, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She stood motionless, staring out the window as if waiting for someone. Mia’s heart pounded in her chest. The woman didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

“Who are you?” Mia whispered, her voice trembling.

The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she turned toward Mia, her face pale and ghostly, her eyes empty and cold. The room grew even colder, the shadows deepening. Mia felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over her, but she couldn’t look away.

“Please,” the woman said, her voice like a mournful sigh. “Help me.”

Mia’s mind raced. What did she mean? Help her how?

Without thinking, Mia stepped forward, her body moving on its own accord. The woman’s eyes followed her, but her expression remained blank. As Mia reached the center of the room, the woman raised her hand, pointing toward the mirror above the fireplace.

The mirror was cracked, its surface covered in dust, but as Mia’s gaze lingered on it, the reflection seemed to shimmer. For a brief moment, Mia saw something—someone—standing in the reflection that wasn’t there in the room with her. It was a man, dressed in a suit, his face twisted in anger. He was holding something in his hand, though Mia couldn’t make out what it was.

The woman in the gown took a step toward Mia, her voice barely a whisper. “He did this. He trapped me here. You have to stop him.”

Before Mia could ask what she meant, the door behind her slammed shut. The air grew colder, the temperature dropping rapidly. The woman’s figure began to fade, her body becoming translucent. In a panic, Mia turned to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Why won’t you help me?” the woman’s voice echoed, growing louder and more desperate.

Mia struggled with the door, her hands shaking, her heart racing. The whispers filled the room, growing louder and louder, until they became a deafening roar. She slammed her shoulder against the door with all her strength, and finally, it gave way.

As Mia stumbled into the hallway, she looked back one last time. The woman’s figure had disappeared, and the house was once again silent. But Mia knew she couldn’t leave the manor without finding out more.

Determined to solve the mystery, Mia returned to the room with the mirror. She studied it carefully, and that’s when she saw the small engraving along the bottom of the frame. It was old, worn, but readable: “To Anna, with love, forever.”

The name struck a chord in Mia’s mind. She had heard the name Anna before—the woman who had once lived in Willow Creek Manor. According to the villagers, Anna had disappeared many years ago, along with her husband, who was never seen again. The legend said that Anna had been heartbroken and haunted by her husband’s disappearance, and some believed that he had returned as a spirit, seeking revenge for something Anna had done.

Mia’s heart sank as she pieced together the story. The woman in the gown was Anna, and her husband, the man in the mirror, had trapped her here, seeking vengeance for a wrong she had committed. The house was haunted not just by Anna’s spirit, but by the unresolved anger of her husband, who was still trying to find peace.

Mia knew what she had to do. She had to find a way to free Anna’s spirit, to break the curse that had bound her to Willow Creek Manor.

But as she left the manor, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Anna—or the man in the mirror.

The whispers would never truly stop.

More stories:

Resources:

Sharing is caring!

Related Posts