Our First Conversation Seemed Innocent, Until It Took a Dark Turn

My upstairs bedroom gave me a perfect view of the house next door. Early one morning, I noticed new neighbors moving in—a man and woman carrying boxes. My gaze shifted to the open window across from mine, where a girl my age stood watching me.

She motioned for me to open my window and whispered, “Nice to meet you, I’m Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m Sam,” I replied.

She smiled, “Keep your window open,” and disappeared. Moments later, she tossed a paper airplane into my room. It read: *Hey Sam, I’ll come over tonight and introduce myself!*

Confused, I wrote back, *What do you mean?* I tossed it back, but she was gone.

That evening, my mom called me down for dinner with the new neighbors. But Sarah wasn’t there—just her parents. When I asked about her, they stared in shock. “Our daughter died a year ago.”

Stunned, I went back to my room. A paper airplane flew in. I looked out the window—Sarah stood there, her face pale and haunting. The note in my hand read:

*Behind you.*

The lights flickered off, and I heard a whisper.

“Sam.”