The Echoes of the Forgotten Child

The mist rolled in like a shroud, seeping through the cracks of the old, creaking cottage that sat on the edge of the ancient wood. It was there, amidst the decaying floorboards and the whispering wind that carried the faint scent of decay, where the Lefebvre family lived with their youngest, the enigmatic Elise.

The Lefebvres were an ordinary family by most accounts. Mr. Lefebvre was a humble teacher, and Mrs. Lefebvre was a passionate nurse. They had three children, each with their own quirks and dreams. But Elise was different. She was quiet, almost silent, and she seemed to be carrying a secret that no one else could decipher.

The cottage was said to be cursed, and many locals whispered of its dark past. It was built by a family who fell from grace after a tragic accident, and since then, it had been shrouded in mystery and sorrow. Some claimed that the spirit of a child, once lost in the woods surrounding the cottage, lingered, forever seeking solace in the arms of her forgotten parents.

One night, as the family sat around the kitchen table, sharing the last of the candles, Elise began to play hide and seek. Her laughter, hollow and distant, echoed through the empty halls, making the adults shiver. Mrs. Lefebvre looked at her husband with wide eyes, a silent question passing between them.

The game went on all night, with Elise moving from room to room, always one step ahead. Mr. Lefebvre tried to keep up, his heart pounding as he moved from shadow to shadow. But no matter where he went, she seemed to know where to find him. It was as if she could feel his presence.

By dawn, the family was exhausted, their nerves frayed. They had all been searching, but no one had seen Elise. Mrs. Lefebvre, unable to bear the silence, went to check on the children in the nursery. That’s when she saw the door slightly ajar.

Stepping inside, she was met with the eerie sight of her own reflection. The door behind her had closed, leaving her trapped in the room. The mirror in front of her showed the same reflection, but as she moved closer, the face in the glass seemed to change, and Elise’s face looked back at her, her eyes hollow and filled with malice.

Mrs. Lefebvre screamed, but no sound came out. She realized too late that the cottage was not just playing tricks; it was holding her. The door remained shut, and the room was dark, the air thick with fear. She tried to touch the glass, to see if it was real, but her fingers passed right through, and she found herself in the room alone.

Time seemed to stand still, and Mrs. Lefebvre spent hours in the room, her mind racing with questions. Who was Elise? Why was she so afraid of her family? And why had she locked her mother in the room?

Suddenly, the door opened, and Elise’s face appeared in the frame. “You can’t escape me, Mother,” she said, her voice soft yet terrifying. “You and your husband took something from me, and I will never rest until you give it back.”

Before Mrs. Lefebvre could respond, the door closed, and the room plunged back into darkness. She sat on the floor, the walls pressing in around her, the silence oppressive.

In the weeks that followed, the family was a shell of their former selves. Mr. Lefebvre had to take a leave of absence from his job, and Mrs. Lefebvre could barely sleep, the haunting visions of Elise never leaving her.

Then one day, as the sun set, casting long shadows in the cottage, Elise appeared once more. She was standing at the top of the stairs, her eyes gleaming with an eerie light. “The game is almost over,” she whispered. “And when it’s done, your family will know the truth.”

Mrs. Lefebvre rushed up the stairs, her heart pounding. When she reached the top, Elise was gone, leaving only the echo of her footsteps in the air. But the next morning, they found Elise in the old library, sitting in front of the dusty old piano, her fingers moving across the keys.

As Mrs. Lefebvre approached, Elise looked up. “You’re brave, Mother,” she said, her eyes softening. “But it’s too late. You can’t save us now.”

The next day, the Lefebvres were found, each dead in their rooms. It was later revealed that Elise had been alive all along, living in the attic of the cottage. Her mother had found her there, and together, they had hidden away, away from the world that had betrayed them.

But the cottage was not done with the Lefebvres. The curse had spread, and the spirits of the lost child and her parents now haunted the place, their stories untold, their presence a reminder of the darkness that can linger in the most ordinary of places.

The cottage remains standing, a silent sentinel over the ancient wood, and those who pass by often hear the sound of laughter, a sound that never fades.