The House Across Maple Street: A Never-Ending American Horror
Written by Reax Accer
The House Across Maple Street
✍️ Author’s Style
First-Person Narration | Psychological Horror | Supernatural Mystery
Part – 1
Maple Street, Connecticut
Date: June 14, 2019
My name is Adrian Coleman.
I am 21 years old.
I recently moved here from New York City.
The place where I’m living now is called
Maple Street, New Haven County, Connecticut, USA.
From the outside, this area looks residential,
but on the inside…
something is wrong.
The houses are built close together,
but the people…
keep their distance.
During the day, cars are parked along the street.
At night, the streetlights are on.
Every house has lights inside—
yet it still feels like
this neighborhood does not breathe.
New people come and go all the time,
but no one knows anyone.
No one talks to anyone.
I tried.
“Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Good evening.”
People just walked past me
as if I had said nothing at all.
The house across from mine—
directly in front of my house—
is Number 317, Maple Street.
A middle-aged couple lives there—
Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.
And with them lives their daughter.
I didn’t know her name,
but her face…
I could never forget it.
Pale skin.
Light brown eyes.
A calm, quiet smile—always there.
Whenever she looked out the window,
I felt
as if she recognized me.
College was on break.
I stayed home all day.
And honestly—
I watched only her.
Twenty days.
Twenty continuous days.
At first, she didn’t notice me.
Then she began to.
And one day—
when she saw me,
she gently waved her hand.
My heartbeat raced.
After that,
every day she saw me,
she gave some kind of response.
The Letter
Date: July 4, 2019
Around 5:40 PM.
I was standing near my window
when suddenly I saw—
she stepped onto the street,
placed an envelope on the ground,
looked in my direction,
and walked away without saying a word.
I went outside.
Picked up the envelope.
My hands were shaking.
Inside, it said—
“Tonight. Dinner. 7 PM.
Please come.
— M”
My world stopped.
Dinner
7:05 PM
I was standing in front of their house.
I knocked on the door.
The door opened.
She was standing there.
“Hi, Adrian.”
She said my name.
I froze.
She invited me inside
and introduced me to her parents.
Everything was…
normal.
We ate dinner.
We talked.
Then she said—
“I’ll be right back.”
Questions
30 minutes.
45 minutes.
1 hour.
She didn’t return.
I asked—
“Where is your daughter?”
Mr. Harrington looked at me.
“We don’t have a daughter.”
I laughed.
I thought it was a joke.
“The girl who opened the door—”
Mrs. Harrington’s voice changed.
“There is no girl living in this house.”
Fear
Voices began echoing in my head.
I slapped myself.
It hurt.
I cut my hand with a knife.
Blood came out.
There was no pain.
They bandaged my hand
and shouted—
“Get out of here!
We don’t have a daughter!”
What I Saw
From my own window, I saw—
inside their bathroom,
there was a girl.
In the bathtub.
Covered in blood.
Dead…
or alive—
I don’t know.
Her Again
I ran back to their house.
Knocked on the door.
The door opened.
She was there.
Completely unharmed.
Smiling.
Everything was normal.
I asked—
“Do you have a sister?”
She laughed.
“No.”
She kissed me.
“You won’t forget me, will you?”
“Never.”
Her father said—
“Sweetheart, it’s time to sleep.”
The Last Question (For Now)
As I was leaving,
she pointed again at that photograph.
An old photo.
In it…
there were two identical girls.
Now the question is not—
who she was.
The question is—
who am I in love with?
🔚 Part – 1 Ends
(To be continued…)
In the Next Part, You Will Discover:
the secret behind that photograph
the history of Maple Street
a real police report from 1986
and the truth…
that will slowly drive Adrian insane
Part 2
The Photograph That Was Never Taken
Date: July 5, 2019
Time: 2:17 AM
I couldn’t sleep.
Sleep was nowhere near my eyes.
Only one question kept circling in my mind—
If they don’t have a daughter…
then who did I touch?
who did I kiss?
In the silence of the night, Maple Street
felt even more dead.
The streetlight was flickering.
There was a strange chill in the air—
even in the middle of July.
That photograph…
my eyes kept returning again and again
to the same picture
the girl had pointed at.
I decided—
tomorrow I would see that photograph.
No matter what.
Morning
9:30 AM
I was standing in front of their house.
Number 317.
I knocked on the door.
The door opened.
Mr. Harrington.
He looked at me
as if he were seeing me for the first time.
“Can I help you?”
“I came here last night… for dinner.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You have the wrong house.”
What happened inside
I insisted and went in anyway.
It was the same house.
The same furniture.
The same walls.
But…
That photograph was gone.
I asked—
“There was a photo in your living room…
of two girls.”
Mrs. Harrington’s fingers started trembling.
“There has never been such a photograph.”
The first crack in the truth
They asked me to sit down.
They served coffee.
Then they said—
“You’re new here…
so maybe you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
Mrs. Harrington’s eyes filled with tears.
“In 1986…
we had a daughter.”
My heart stopped.
“One?”
Mr. Harrington lowered his head.
“No…
two.”
1986 – Police Record
What they told me
sounded like a police file.
Names:
Martha Harrington
Mary Harrington
Age: 7 years
Twin sisters
One night—
a scream came from the bathroom.
Mary was found dead in the bathtub.
Her throat was slit.
Martha…
was never found.
The police closed the case.
My condition
“So…
the girl I met…”
Mrs. Harrington looked straight into my eyes.
“That’s impossible.”
The truth of the night
That night
I looked out the window.
The bathroom light in Number 317
turned on again.
And this time—
I saw clearly.
A girl
was standing in front of the mirror.
She was looking directly at me.
Her lips moved—
“Why did you forget me?”
In my room,
the door shut by itself.
The mirror fogged up.
On the mirror,
written in blood, were the words—
“Martha lives.”
The real beginning of fear
Now I understand—
This place is not abandoned.
This place
is hiding something.
And that girl…
Why does she appear only to me?
🔚 Part 2 Ends
(The story continues… and now there is no turning back)
Coming up in the next parts:
Who was the real killer—Martha or Mary
The curse of Maple Street
Manipulation of Adrian’s memories
And that day… when Adrian himself will decide
whether he is alive or already dead
Part – 3
The Night the House Started Breathing
Location: Maple Street, New Haven County, Connecticut, USA
Date: July 6, 2019
Time: 3:41 AM
That night, for the first time, I felt—
my house was alive.
I’m not saying this as a joke.
I clearly heard—
something breathing
inside the walls.
Sounds echoed through the house.
The wooden stairs
creaked on their own.
From the kitchen,
I heard the sound of a spoon falling.
I was alone.
Completely alone.
And yet…
it felt like
someone was standing behind me.
I turned around.
No one was there.
But in the mirror—
I was not alone.
In the mirror,
behind me,
stood a girl.
Wet hair.
A pale face with blue veins visible beneath the skin.
Deep cut marks around her neck.
The same girl
I had seen in the bathtub.
She leaned close to my ear and whispered—
“She took my life…
You gave her your heart.”
A chill ran through my entire body.
Time Breaking
Suddenly,
the clock hands started moving backward.
3:41
3:20
2:58
And then—
a knock at the door.
The door.
With trembling hands,
I opened it.
It was her.
My girlfriend.
Alive.
Smiling.
“Are you okay?”
she asked.
I grabbed her wrist.
It was ice cold.
The Question I Shouldn’t Have Asked
“What is your real name?”
Her smile disappeared
in a single second.
The lights in the room went out.
And in the darkness,
I heard her voice—
“Which one do you want me to be?”
Police Records (Real Case Reference)
The next morning,
I went to the New Haven Police Department.
An old officer—
Officer Raymond Holt—
recognized me.
“You live across from 317…
don’t you?”
I was shocked.
“Yes… how do you know?”
He pulled out a file.
“You’re not the first.”
1999 – 2007 – 2014
Three boys.
All had recently moved in.
All saw the same girl.
All went insane.
One committed suicide.
One disappeared.
One is still in a mental institution.
Their final statement—
“She changes faces.”
My Truth
That night,
she was in my room again.
This time,
she was crying.
“I didn’t kill her…”
she said.
“Then who did?” I asked.
She looked at me.
And for the first time,
there was fear in her eyes.
“You did.
Not yet…
But you will.”
Final Scene (For Now)
In the morning,
when I woke up—
the bathtub in my bathroom
was filled with blood.
And written on the mirror—
Choose wisely, Adrian.
🔚 Part – 3 Ends
(The story has now taken a far more dangerous turn)
Coming Up Next:
Adrian’s memories begin to fade
The real truth behind Martha vs. Mary
Possession or Reincarnation?
And the day Maple Street
adds one more name to its list
Part – 4
I Was Never Adrian Coleman
Location: Maple Street, New Haven County, Connecticut, USA
Date: July 7, 2019
Time: Unknown (the clock is not working)
I am writing this
because I am afraid—
if I don’t write it down,
I will forget who I am.
The Truth of the Mirror
I was standing in the bathroom.
The bathtub was clean.
The blood was gone.
But the mirror…
The face I saw
was not mine.
It was smiling at me.
“Adrian is sleeping now.”
A sharp ringing filled my ears.
My head felt like it was about to explode.
Memories that were not mine
started flooding my mind—
1986
Bathroom.
One little girl is crying.
Another little girl is holding a knife.
And the most terrifying thing—
I was watching both of them.
The Hospital
I remember
the police came.
Or maybe
I went there myself.
Now I am here—
Riverview Psychiatric Hospital
New Haven, Connecticut
Room number 417.
The walls are padded.
The door is locked from the outside.
The nurse doesn’t call me by my name.
She says—
“Patient M.”
The Doctor’s File
The doctor came today.
He asked me—
“When did you start believing that you are Adrian?”
I screamed—
“I am Adrian!”
He replied calmly—
“No…
Adrian was your first story.”
A Page from the File (Excerpt)
Patient Name: Martha Harrington
Condition: Dissociative Identity Disorder
Delusion: Believes she is a male college student named Adrian Coleman
Trigger Location: 317 Maple Street
My breath stopped.
Who Was That Girl?
At night,
the light in my room went out.
Someone sat on my bed.
It was her.
The same girl.
Wet hair.
Marks of a slit throat.
She held my hand.
“I let you live as him…
But you loved her.”
I broke down crying.
“Mary?”
She nodded.
“She wanted your life.
I wanted justice.”
The Biggest Lie
She whispered into my ear—
“There was never a girlfriend.
There was never a kiss.
There was never Adrian.”
The Final Door
Today I was told—
tomorrow I will be taken back
to Maple Street.
House number 317.
“Exposure Therapy,”
the doctor said.
But he is lying.
Final Line (For Now)
There is still a cut mark
on my hand.
Blood comes out.
There is no pain.
And in the mirror,
there are now two faces.
One is smiling.
The other
is telling me to get out.
🔚 Part – 4 Ends
(The story is no longer just a story)
Coming Next:
Is Martha real, or is Adrian?
Was Mary truly dead, or is she still there?
Is the hospital real, or just another illusion?
Who does the house on Maple Street allow to live?
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