Author: B Humphrey
Date: 2024-10-10 00:00:00+00:00
Description: A Haunting on Maplewood Street The Phantom Finders Club, Book 1 Welcome to Monroe Island, a cozy little town with a spooky secret! Crisp autumn air, crackling leaves, and the smell of pumpkin muffins fill the streets, but lurking in the shadows of Maplewood Street is something far less cozy—an abandoned Victorian house with a chilling reputation. When Ky and her ghost-hunting friends—Greg, Ben, Sandy, and Mikey—form The Phantom Finders Club , they're ready for adventure, not realizing they’re about to uncover the island’s darkest mystery. Armed with ghost-hunting gadgets, boundless curiosity,
Publisher: B. Humphrey

Dedicated with love to Kyleigh, Littleface and Ears McEarson. May the cookies always be warm and the stretches always be tall.

The Phantom Finders Club - Book 1

A Haunting on Maplewood Street

Written by B. Humphrey

Copyright © 2024 by B. Humphrey All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Monroe Island

The Phantom Finders Crew

The Phantom Finders

The Haunting of Maplewood House

Shadows in the Dark

The Forgotten Journal

Fort Oldstead

Secrets of the Moat

Return to Maplewood House

A Sweet Release

A Crisp Autumn Walk

A New Mystery

The Secrets of Old Fort Tower

Monroe Island

Monroe Island is an old military base that has been converted into a quaint town. The island has a rich history, with hidden fortresses, mysterious tunnels, and forgotten forts. Over the years, its residents have settled into a peaceful, cozy life, but its history still haunts the island with rumors of ghostly sightings and eerie happenings.

Key Locations in Monroe Island:

1. Maplewood Street – A quiet, tree-lined street with old houses, including the infamous Maplewood House, a large, eerie Victorian-style home at the end of the street. It’s rumored to be haunted by soldiers from the island’s military past.

2. Fort Oldstead – The crumbling remains of the island’s military base, with abandoned barracks, secret tunnels, and ancient cannons. This is a favorite spot for ghost hunting adventures, filled with hidden dangers and supernatural lore.

3. The Moat – Surrounding the old military fort, the moat once served as a defense mechanism but is now a murky body of water with a mysterious, foggy atmosphere. Local kids believe that ghosts lurk beneath its dark surface.

4. Whispering Woods – A dense forest on the edge of town where the trees are so thick and twisted, they seem to whisper to each other. It’s a place the kids often explore, hearing rumors of spectral figures appearing at dusk.

5. Downtown Monroe – A charming, picturesque town square filled with quirky shops:

Downtown Monroe Island:

- Ghostlight Coffee – The town’s coffee shop, with creaky floors, ancient lights that flicker mysteriously, and the best hot chocolate in town.

- The Enchanted Emporium – A magical supply shop where the kids often find strange trinkets and protection charms for their ghost-hunting adventures.

- Old Timbers Bookshop – A dusty, dimly lit bookshop where Ky’s cats love to explore the stacks of old books, and where the crew researches hauntings.

- Secret Comics – Greg’s favorite comic bookstore, where he loves to tell the group about supernatural superheroes and comic ghostbusters.

- Fortune & Flame – A mystical candle and fortune-telling shop, where the kids often consult a quirky, eccentric fortune teller for advice on their supernatural quests.

The Phantom Finders Crew

Kyleigh “Ky” H.

Greg Matthews

Benji “Ben” Thompson

Sandy Wright

Mikey Diaz

Littleface

Ears McEarson

Kyleigh “Ky” H.

- Role: The Leader & Animal Whisperer

- Personality: Ky is the brave, level-headed leader of the group. She’s fiercely protective of her friends and her two cats, Littleface and Ears McEarson, who often accompany her on missions. She’s the one who came up with the idea to start The Phantom Finders and is always the first to step into a haunted space.

- Hobbies: Ghost hunting, reading about the paranormal, and caring for her beloved cats.

- Key Trait: She has a special connection with animals, especially her two cats, who often seem to sense things before anyone else does.

- Cats:

- Littleface: A sleek grey cat with a tiny face who is always chattering.

- Ears McEarson: A sleek grey cat with enormous, sail-like ears. The cats often “stretch up tall” on walls when they want food, which the crew finds endlessly amusing.

- Catchphrase: “Aww, they’re tall!” (When her cats stand up on their hind legs to stretch or beg for food.)

Greg Matthews

- Role: The Comic Relief

- Personality: Greg is the goofball of the group, always cracking jokes and trying to make light of spooky situations, even when he’s terrified. He’s a bit of a scaredy-cat, but his humor helps the group keep their cool.

- Hobbies: Comic books, video games, and watching horror movies (though he covers his eyes during the scary parts).

- Key Trait: His quick thinking and humor help the group overcome their fear. Though he’s often the most scared, he’s surprisingly resourceful in a pinch.

- Catchphrase: “This is just like that time in Ghostbusters, except… way worse!”

Benji “Ben” Thompson

- Role: The Tech Genius

- Personality: Ben is the brains of the group. He’s always tinkering with gadgets and creating new ghost-hunting devices. He’s logical, cautious, and the first to figure out how to solve problems.

- Hobbies: Building electronics, coding, and reading sci-fi novels.

- Key Trait: His gadgets often help the group track ghostly activity or reveal clues in their investigations.

- Catchphrase: “Let me tweak this—just a little more power, and we’ll get a ghost reading!”

Sandy Wright

- Role: The Researcher & Planner

- Personality: Sandy is the group’s researcher and the planner. She loves diving into old books and maps to learn more about the island’s haunted history. She’s practical, smart, and always thinking two steps ahead.

- Hobbies: Reading mysteries, organizing things, and leading the group’s research sessions.

- Key Trait: She has an encyclopedic knowledge of Monroe Island’s history, and her research is vital in helping the group uncover the truth behind local hauntings.

- Catchphrase: “According to my research…”

Mikey Diaz

- Role: The Fearless Daredevil

- Personality: Mikey is the fearless daredevil of the group, always eager to explore the scariest places. While the others sometimes hesitate, Mikey is already halfway through the door, ready to face whatever ghostly figure awaits.

- Hobbies: Skateboarding, biking, and exploring abandoned places.

- Key Trait: Mikey’s bravery often inspires the others to push past their fear and continue their investigation.

- Catchphrase: “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The Phantom Finders

Acrisp autumn breeze swept across Monroe Island, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the faint aroma of pumpkin muffins from Mrs. O’Leary’s bakery down the street. The wind rustled through the bare branches of the towering maples lining Maplewood Street, sending a shower of gold and orange spiraling to the ground. The sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the town, the kind that made everything look a little magical, a little mysterious.

In Ky’s backyard, the crunch of leaves underfoot mixed with the laughter of kids. Ky, an adventurous soul with short, messy hair tucked beneath a knit beanie, sat cross-legged on the porch steps, her two sleek grey cats, Littleface and Ears McEarson, lazily lounging beside her. Littleface’s tiny face peeked out from a patch of leaves, while Ears sat alert, her tall, straight ears twitching with every sound. Greg, tall and lanky, leaned against the rickety fence, flipping his yo-yo absently. Ben, with his ever-present baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, kicked at a pile of leaves, while Sandy, her red hair ablaze in the afternoon sun, perched on the railing. Mikey, the youngest but always eager, clutched his ghost-hunting journal like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Did you guys hear about that old house at the end of Maplewood?” Mikey asked, eyes wide with excitement. “The one that’s been abandoned for, like, forever?” Ky looked up, her green eyes narrowing with interest. “You mean the creepy Victorian with the broken windows and the peeling paint? That place looks haunted.” Ben snorted. “Haunted? It’s just an old house.”

Mikey shook his head, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “No, it’s more than that. My brother’s friend said he heard voices coming from inside one night. And there’s this story about kids who went in there and… never came out.”

A chill settled over the group as the wind picked up, swirling leaves around their feet. Even Greg stopped flipping his yo-yo. “Never came out?” Sandy scoffed, but there was a nervous edge to her voice. “You sure it’s not just some dumb ghost story?”

Mikey grinned. “That’s what I thought too, but then I started digging around. There’s something weird about that house. It used to be part of Fort Oldstead, back when Monroe Island was still a military base. Some of the soldiers’ families lived there, and then they just… vanished.”

Ky stood up, brushing the leaves off her jeans. “Sounds like we’ve got our first mission.”

“First mission?” Ben raised an eyebrow. Ky smirked, her cats stirring at her feet. “Yeah. We’re starting a ghost-hunting club. We’ll call it The Phantom Finders. We’ll investigate all the spooky stuff around Monroe Island, starting with the Maplewood House.”

Greg let out a laugh. “Oh man, you guys are serious about this?” Sandy rolled her eyes. “Serious as a cheese sandwich. Come on, Greg. You know you’re in.”

Greg shrugged, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. But if we get chased by ghosts, don’t expect me to stick around.”

Ky bent down to scratch Littleface behind her ears. The tiny-faced cat purred, stretching up on her hind legs until she stood “tall” against the porch railing, her little paws reaching for the sky. “Awe, look at her!” Ky cooed. “She’s tall!”

As if on cue, Ears McEarson followed suit, her long ears standing even straighter than usual as she stretched up beside Littleface, her paws daintily reaching toward the porch roof. The group burst out laughing, the tension from Mikey’s spooky story momentarily forgotten.

“Look at Ears!” Greg chuckled. “She’s trying to touch the ceiling!” Ky beamed. “They always do this when they’re hungry.”

Sandy leaned over, giving Ears a scratch behind her ridiculously long ears. “Well, we’ll have to take them on our ghost hunt. Maybe they’ll scare the ghosts away.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ben said with a grin, but his eyes flickered back toward the street, where Maplewood House loomed just a few blocks away.

The sun began to sink lower, casting long shadows across the yard. The golden light bathed the street in an eerie glow, making even the most ordinary things—like the mailboxes or the gnarled old oak tree at the end of the block—seem a little more sinister.

“So… when are we doing this?” Greg asked, his voice a little quieter now. Ky’s face lit up with determination. “Tomorrow night. After dark.”

“After dark?” Ben asked, his skepticism back. “You sure about that?” Ky nodded. “That’s when we’ll find the real ghosts. Maplewood House at night, no turning back.” “I mean come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” Mikey chimed in with agreeance.

A gust of wind blew through the yard, rattling the loose boards of the fence and sending more leaves skittering across the grass. For a moment, the group fell silent, each of them imagining what might be waiting for them inside that old house. Shadows lengthened across the street, stretching toward them like the long, thin fingers of something unseen.

“We should be prepared,” Mikey said, breaking the silence. He pulled out his journal, flipping through the pages of messy notes. “I’ve been researching ghost-hunting techniques. We’ll need flashlights, an EVP recorder to capture ghost voices, and maybe some salt. I heard ghosts don’t like salt.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “Salt, really? What, are we trying to cook them?”

“No, I’m serious!” Mikey insisted. “It’s for protection.” Ky smirked. “Fine, we’ll bring salt. And we’ll meet at the big oak tree at eight. Everyone bring their gear—and their bravery.” Greg gulped, looking like he might be reconsidering his involvement, but Sandy clapped him on the back. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll be in and out before you even know it.”

“Yeah,” Ben added, though his voice was a little less confident than before. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the treetops, the group began to disperse, each heading home to prepare for the night ahead. Ky lingered for a moment, watching the shadows deepen on Maplewood Street. A shiver ran down her spine, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the cool breeze or the anticipation building inside her.

Littleface meowed at her feet, and Ears tilted her head, her long ears twitching in the wind. “Don’t worry,” Ky whispered to them. “Tomorrow’s going to be an adventure.”

The wind picked up again, carrying the scent of damp leaves and the faintest whisper of something… something strange, drifting from the direction of Maplewood House.

Tomorrow, The Phantom Finders would discover whether the old stories were just legends—or something much more real.

The Haunting of Maplewood House

The sun had almost disappeared beneath the horizon, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and purple. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood from fireplaces nearby, mingled with the earthy musk of damp leaves. The streets of Monroe Island were quiet, with most of the town settling into their cozy homes for the evening. But not Ky, Greg, Ben, Sandy, or Mikey. They had other plans.

The Phantom Finders stood at the corner of Maplewood Street, bundled up in jackets and scarves, their breath forming little clouds in the cold autumn air. The Victorian house loomed at the far end of the street, silhouetted against the deepening twilight. Its tall, pointed roof looked like a crooked crown atop the shadowy structure, and the broken windows glared down at them like hollow, haunted eyes. The front porch sagged, the wood rotting in places, and vines snaked up the sides, as if nature itself were trying to swallow the place whole.

Ky felt a flutter of excitement and nervousness rise in her chest as she adjusted her flashlight, gripping it tightly in one hand. Littleface and Ears McEarson, ever loyal, had followed her to the edge of the street and sat perched on the low stone wall, their sleek grey fur glowing in the fading light. Littleface’s tiny face peeked out from under a pile of leaves, while Ears stood tall, her long, pointed ears twitching as though she sensed something.

“Well,” Greg muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets, “there it is. The spookiest house in town.”

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Ky teased, glancing over at him. Greg scoffed. “No way. I just… didn’t think it would look this creepy up close.”

“It’s perfect,” Mikey said, eyes wide with excitement. “We’ll find so much ghost activity in there, I just know it.” Ben fiddled with his ghost-hunting gear, a small EMF meter and an EVP recorder, his expression serious. “I hope this stuff works. Something about this place gives me the creeps.”

“Good,” Sandy said, a mischievous grin on her face. “We’re supposed to be scared. That’s the point.” They approached the house slowly, the sound of their feet crunching through the dried leaves echoing in the quiet. The wind whistled through the trees, and a stray gust blew open the rusty gate that led up to the front yard. It squealed on its hinges, making Greg jump.

“Relax, man,” Ky laughed, nudging him. “It’s just the wind.” The closer they got to the house, the more oppressive it felt. The air grew colder, biting at their skin, and Ky shivered despite her thick jacket. The front porch steps groaned under their weight as they ascended, and the warped wood creaked ominously. The front door loomed before them, its once-beautiful carved wood now chipped and weathered, the brass doorknob tarnished with age.

“Are we really doing this?” Ben asked, his voice quieter than usual. Ky flashed him a grin. “We’re The Phantom Finders, aren’t we? We’re not backing out now.” “Let me tweak this then—just a little more power, and we’ll get a ghost reading!” Ben said.

With a deep breath, she reached for the doorknob. It was cold to the touch, colder than it should’ve been, and it turned with an eerie creak. The door swung open on its own, revealing a dark, musty interior. Dust swirled in the air, catching the beams of their flashlights as they shone into the entryway. “Whoa,” Mikey whispered, stepping inside behind Ky. “This place is even creepier on the inside.”

The air smelled of mildew and something else—something rotting. A wide staircase, covered in a threadbare runner, led up to the second floor, and old portraits hung crooked on the walls, their faces obscured by dust and grime. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, but its crystals were coated in cobwebs, and it swayed ever so slightly, as if touched by an invisible hand.

“This place is disgusting,” Sandy muttered, her nose wrinkled. “How long has it been abandoned?” Ky’s flashlight beam flickered as she scanned the hallway. “Too long.” Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the house, followed by a faint whispering that seemed to come from the walls themselves. Greg jumped, his eyes wide with panic.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice trembling. Ben frowned, tapping his EMF meter, which was blinking erratically. “I don’t know. Something’s messing with my equipment.” Mikey’s face lit up. “That’s a sign of ghost activity! We must be close to something.”

“Or something’s close to us,” Sandy added, glancing warily at the shadowed corners of the room. Ky led the way down the hallway, her boots leaving faint prints in the dust on the floor. They passed strange markings on the walls—scratches and symbols etched into the plaster. The air grew colder with every step, and every few seconds, Ky swore she could hear faint whispers just beyond the reach of her flashlight.

At the end of the hall, they found a large mirror mounted on the wall, its surface cracked and grimy. As they shone their lights on it, something flickered in the reflection, a shadowy figure darting across the room behind them. “Did you see that?” Greg yelped, spinning around.

“There’s nothing there,” Ben said, his voice uneasy. “It’s just your imagination.” But Ky wasn’t so sure. She’d seen it too, just for a split second. The shadow of something, or someone, moving through the house.

“Let’s check upstairs,” Mikey suggested, his excitement still bubbling despite the eerie atmosphere.

Ky nodded, leading the group up the creaking staircase. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if something were trying to hold them back. The upstairs hall was even darker, with thick curtains drawn over the windows, blocking out what little moonlight there was. Their flashlights barely cut through the darkness, casting long, distorted shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

“I don’t like this,” Greg muttered under his breath, clutching his yo-yo like it was a lifeline. As they moved from room to room, they found more strange things—broken toys scattered on the floor, old furniture draped in dusty sheets, and cold spots that seemed to shift whenever they got close. The temperature in the house was dropping fast, their breath fogging in front of them.

Then, a loud thud came from behind a closed door at the end of the hall. Everyone froze. “Who’s gonna open it?” Sandy asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Ky stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached for the doorknob. But just as her fingers brushed the cold metal, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang, causing everyone to jump. Greg let out a strangled yelp, backing away. “We’re trapped in here!”

“It’s just the wind,” Ben said, though his voice sounded unsure. Mikey pulled out his EVP recorder, holding it up. “If there’s anyone here with us, say something.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the recorder crackled to life, and a faint voice whispered through the static: Come here.

Everyone froze, their blood running cold. “We should go,” Sandy said quickly, her eyes darting toward the stairs. “Like, now.”

But before anyone could move, the door behind them creaked open slowly, revealing the dark room beyond. A chill swept over them, colder than any wind, and the whispers started again, louder this time, echoing through the walls like voices carried on the breeze.

Ky swallowed hard, her heart racing. “We’re not leaving until we know what’s going on in this house.” But even as she said it, a part of her wondered if they’d made a terrible mistake.

Shadows in the Dark

The walls of the Maplewood House seemed to close in on them, their faded floral wallpaper curling like the brittle pages of an old book. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind against the windows, felt amplified in the stillness of the house. The air was heavy, filled with an eerie tension, as if the house itself was watching them, waiting.

Ky wiped her palms on her jeans, her flashlight flickering as if it, too, sensed the weight of the place. The old Victorian house groaned, its timbers settling in a way that felt almost alive. The sharp scent of old wood and decay filled the air, but beneath it was something else—something darker. The smell of fear.

“I don’t like this,” Greg whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps. His usual bravado had crumbled the moment they’d been trapped inside, and now his eyes darted nervously around the room, as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows.

“We have to stay calm,” Ky said, though her own voice trembled just a little. She felt Littleface brush against her leg, and Ears McEarson meowed somewhere off in the darkness, their sleek forms darting around the room, chasing…something. Ky couldn’t see what had caught their attention, but the cats were unusually restless, their tails twitching like they were hunting invisible prey.

Sandy moved closer to Ky, her brow furrowed as she scanned the room. “What are they chasing?” she whispered. “I don’t know,” Ky admitted. “But it’s kinda freaking me out.”

“Maybe they see something we can’t,” Ben suggested, glancing down at his malfunctioning EMF meter. It hadn’t worked since they’d stepped into the house. He smacked it against his palm, frustration evident in his face. “Nothing’s working right. It’s like this house is jamming everything.”

“Yeah, or it’s haunted,” Greg muttered, hugging his arms around himself as if that could ward off the chill that was slowly creeping into his bones.

They moved deeper into the house, stepping into a large sitting room. Moonlight filtered through the cracked windows, casting pale, ghostly beams onto the worn furniture covered in dust. In the corner of the room stood an old fireplace, its bricks blackened with soot from fires long extinguished. Above it hung a large, framed portrait—an old family, their faces frozen in time.

The moment Ky’s light hit the portrait, a chill raced down her spine. The family in the painting looked unnervingly familiar—too familiar. The man in the center had cold, dark eyes that seemed to follow them across the room, and the woman’s expression was tight, almost strained, as if hiding something.

“Do they look like…?” Sandy began, her voice trailing off as she stared at the portrait. “Like the shadows we saw earlier?” Ky finished for her, her mouth dry. “Yeah. They do.” Mikey stepped closer to the painting, squinting at the figures. “It’s like they’re watching us. I swear the woman just moved.”

“Don’t say that,” Greg groaned. “Seriously, stop talking like that.” Suddenly, Littleface hissed and bolted toward the far end of the room, her little face disappearing into the shadows. Ears McEarsons’ ears pricked tall and alert, followed closely behind, their paws thudding softly on the wooden floor. They vanished into the next room, their frantic meows echoing through the empty halls.

“What’s gotten into them?” Ben asked, his voice tinged with unease. “They’re chasing something,” Ky said, her stomach twisting with anxiety. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.

“We should follow them,” Mikey said, already stepping forward, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ky exchanged a glance with Sandy, who shrugged. “We’re in this together,” Sandy said, her tone resolute. “Let’s go.”

They followed the cats, their flashlights casting long, jittery shadows on the walls. As they stepped into the next room—a library filled with dusty, forgotten books—the temperature dropped sharply, a cold breeze brushing past them. The cats were pacing in front of a tall bookshelf, their eyes fixed on something unseen.

Before anyone could say a word, the shadows in the room seemed to shift. At first, it was subtle—just a flicker at the edge of Ky’s vision. But then, the shadows began to stretch, dark tendrils curling out from the corners of the room, slowly snaking toward the center where the group stood. The shadows moved as though they had a mind of their own.

“Did…..did anyone else see that?” Greg’s voice wavered, his eyes wide with fear. “Yeah,” Sandy whispered. “We all saw it.”

“Back away slowly,” Ky instructed, her heart pounding in her chest. But before they could retreat, the door to the library slammed shut with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the house like a gunshot. “We’re trapped!” Greg cried, pulling at the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Ky spun around, shining her light toward the center of the room, where the shadows had gathered a thick, swirling mass. It pulsed and flickered, as if alive, its form shifting and coiling like smoke. Her breath caught in her throat. For a brief moment, she thought she saw faces—twisted, hollow faces—within the dark mist.

Suddenly, Sandy gasped and pointed toward the far end of the room. “Look!” There, sitting on an old wooden desk, was an open journal. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. Sandy, always the bravest when it came to things like this, stepped forward cautiously. The journal looked ancient, its leather cover cracked with age, and the pages were yellowed and brittle.

“This must be it,” Sandy whispered, running her fingers lightly over the pages. “It’s a diary. It talks about the house…about the people who lived here.”

“What does it say?” Ben asked, inching closer. Sandy flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the faded ink. “It’s mostly about the family we saw in the portrait. They moved here years ago, but things started happening—bad things. The mother mentions seeing shadows and hearing whispers. The kids went missing, one by one, and then…” Sandy’s voice trailed off, her face pale.

“Then what?” Greg demanded, his voice high-pitched with anxiety. “Then they vanished,” Sandy said quietly, closing the journal. “The whole family disappeared.” The shadows in the room seemed to stir in response, like they were waiting for something. Waiting for them.

“We should get out of here,” Ky said, her voice urgent. But as they turned to leave, the shadows surged forward, surrounding them in a swirling mass of darkness. Littleface and Ears hissed, their backs arched, as the temperature dropped even further, the cold seeping into their bones.

Ky’s heart pounded in her chest as the shadows closed in around them. “Run!” she shouted, and together they bolted for the door. But it didn’t budge.

Trapped and surrounded, Ky glanced at her friends, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The house wasn’t just haunted—it was alive. And it wasn’t going to let them go easily.

The Forgotten Journal

The cold night air rushed past them as they stumbled out of the Maplewood House, their feet crunching over the layers of brittle, fallen leaves. The thick, ominous pressure that had weighed on them inside the house slowly lifted, replaced by the crisp bite of autumn air. Their breath came out in foggy clouds, the scent of pine and damp earth lingering in their noses. The trees around them, now bare and skeletal, swayed gently in the breeze, their branches scraping like fingers against the wind.

Sandy clutched the old journal to her chest, its cracked leather cover cold and rough beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t meant to take it—she’d just seen it sitting there, forgotten, on a dusty table in the library, as if waiting for someone to find it. The last few pages had fluttered open, as though beckoning her. And now here it was, heavy with secrets that none of them were sure they wanted to uncover.

Ky’s cats, Littleface and Ears McEarson, darted ahead, their sleek bodies disappearing into the shadows and reappearing just as quickly, as if they were chasing something only they could see. Their behavior had been off ever since they approached the house, and now, as they made their way back to Ky’s house, the cats seemed even more restless.

Ky pulled her jacket tighter against the biting wind, the smell of wood smoke and pumpkin spice lingering faintly in the air. “Did anyone else feel that? Inside the house?”

“Feel what?” Greg asked, his voice shaky. He was still pale from the encounter in the house, his eyes wide with lingering fear. “That…heaviness,” Ky replied. “Like we weren’t supposed to be there.”

Ben gave a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “Of course we weren’t supposed to be there. It’s an old, creepy house with a reputation for eating kids.”

Mikey stayed quiet, his eyes trained on the journal in Sandy’s hands. “What do you think’s in it?” he asked finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Sandy said, her fingers tracing the embossed edges of the journal’s spine. “But it has to mean something. That house…there’s more to it than just old legends.”

Back in Ky’s basement, the atmosphere felt warmer, safer. The string lights that Ky’s dad had hung around the room gave the space a cozy glow, and the scent of cinnamon and apples from the candles on the shelf softened the edges of their fear. The walls were lined with old board games, a foosball table sat in the corner, and beanbags were scattered across the floor. It was their usual hangout spot, where laughter and snacks flowed freely. But tonight, the basement felt different. Even the shadows cast by the soft lights seemed longer, darker.

Ky set the journal down in the middle of their makeshift circle on the rug, and the group stared at it like it might spring to life at any second. “Okay,” Sandy said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s open it.” She flipped open the cover, revealing the first page—a dated entry written in slanted, delicate handwriting.

October 4th, 1912

We have arrived at Monroe Island. The house is grander than I could have ever imagined, but there is a strange air about it. The children are uneasy. Samuel complained of hearing whispers at night, but I told him it was only the wind through the trees. Still, I find myself unsettled as well…

“That’s over a hundred years ago,” Ky said, leaning closer to read. “Who were they?” Sandy skimmed the page. “It doesn’t say their names. Just that they moved to the island and into the house. But they mention kids. Samuel must’ve been one of them.”

The room fell quiet as they all absorbed the words. The journal was filled with more entries like this—cryptic notes about whispers, strange sightings, and unexplained cold spots. As Sandy flipped through the pages, the tone of the writing grew darker, more frantic.

October 30th, 1912

Margaret is gone. We searched the house, the island, but there is no trace of her. I can hear Samuel crying in the night, but when I go to comfort him, he says it was not his voice. He says someone else is crying. The air in the house is thick, stifling. Something is watching us.

Greg shifted uncomfortably. “That’s messed up.” “There’s more,” Sandy said, turning another page.

November 2nd, 1912

I am certain now. There is something living in this house—something beyond our understanding. It is feeding on us, and it will not stop until we are all gone. Samuel…he…he is no longer the child I knew. I fear for our lives. I fear for the island.

A heavy silence followed her words. “It’s like the house was…alive,” Mikey whispered. “Like it was doing something to the family.” Ben cleared his throat, trying to sound brave. “Or maybe they just went crazy. I mean, being isolated like that on the island—it could make anyone start hearing things.”

Ky shook her head. “No. I felt it too. That house wasn’t just creepy. It felt wrong.” The room was growing colder, the warm glow of the candles and string lights doing little to keep the chill at bay. Littleface jumped onto the couch, curling up beside Ky, but her eyes remained fixed on the dark corners of the room. Ears McEarson was prowling near the basement door, her tail twitching as she meowed at the shadows.

“According to my research, something bad happened in that house,” Sandy said, her voice steady. “And I think it’s connected to the old military base.” Mikey looked up sharply. “The base? What does the base have to do with it?”

“There’s a whole section in the journal about the base,” Sandy explained, flipping back through the pages. “The father worked there, and there were all these rumors about secret experiments. People disappearing. Maybe whatever they were doing…spread.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ben said, though he didn’t sound as certain as he had before. “The military wouldn’t let something like that happen.” Sandy shook her head. “This was a long time ago, Ben. Who knows what they were up to?”

Greg’s face paled. “You think whatever’s in that house has something to do with the base? Like…they unleashed something?”

Ky stood up and paced the room, her mind racing. The pieces were starting to fit together, but they still didn’t make sense. If the house had been cursed—or haunted—by something from the military base, what did that mean for the island? For them?

As the questions swirled in her head, a loud crash from upstairs made them all jump. Ears bolted across the room, her fur standing on end. Littleface hissed, her back arching as she stared intently at the stairs.

Ky’s dad poked his head down from the basement door, holding a tray of cookies. “Sorry, guys! I knocked over a pan. Everything okay down here?”

Ky forced a smile, her heart still racing. “Yeah, we’re fine.” Her dad smiled warmly and placed the cookies on the counter. “Just making sure. I brought some pumpkin cookies if you want them.”

“Thanks, Mr. H,” Greg said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked. As soon as her dad disappeared, they all exhaled in relief, the tension slowly easing. “We have to figure this out,” Ky said, her voice firm. “There’s something going on with that house, and we need to know what.”

“Agreed,” Sandy said, closing the journal carefully. “But we need to be careful. Whatever’s in that house…it’s not finished with us.” Ky glanced at her cats, who were still tense, still watching the corners of the room as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows. The house had left its mark on them, and deep down, Ky knew they were far from safe.

The journal held the key, but the truth they were about to uncover would be far darker than any of them had imagined.

Fort Oldstead

The leaves crunched underfoot, their vibrant colors of burnt orange and crimson swirling in the crisp autumn wind. The air smelled of damp earth and distant wood smoke, mingling with the faint scent of cinnamon from the donuts they’d bought on their way out of town. Monroe Island had never felt more alive—or more haunted.

Ky pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her breath coming out in small clouds as she led the way toward Fort Oldstead. The old military base loomed ahead, its crumbling stone walls standing like ancient sentinels in the dimming light of early evening. Tall, skeletal trees framed the site, their bare branches creaking softly in the breeze. An eerie quiet had settled over the place, broken only by the distant caw of a crow.

The fort had always been a subject of fascination among the kids on Monroe Island, with stories of ghostly soldiers and unexplained disappearances dating back decades. But until now, it had just been a place to dare each other to visit, a spot for Halloween thrills and cheap scares. Now, after what they had uncovered in the journal, Fort Oldstead felt different. More real. More dangerous.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Greg asked, his voice betraying his nerves as they approached the entrance. “I mean, that place looks like it’s ready to collapse any second.”

Ben, holding onto his ghost-hunting gadgets like they were lifelines, glanced at Greg with a shrug. “If we want answers about Maplewood House, this is where we’re gonna find them. The journal practically pointed us here.”

“Yeah, but did the journal also mention us getting eaten by ghosts?” Greg muttered. “Come on,” Sandy said, stepping up beside Ky, her eyes scanning the towering stone walls. “We’ve come this far. If there’s any chance this place is connected to what’s happening at the house, we need to find out.”

Mikey, lagging a few steps behind, had his phone out, snapping pictures of the fort’s exterior. “It’s gonna be so cool if we catch something on camera. I’ll be famous.”

Ky rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the nervous excitement bubbling up inside her. There was something about the fort—the way it stood so quietly amidst the autumn landscape, as though holding its breath, waiting for something. Her cats, Littleface and Ears McEarson, had been acting strange since they’d left the basement earlier, pacing in circles and pawing at invisible things in the air. Even now, they stayed close to her, their eyes wide and alert, as if they sensed something lurking just out of sight.

The group stood at the mouth of the tunnel leading into the heart of the fort, the shadows inside yawning open like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole. Ky felt a shiver crawl up her spine. The air seemed colder here, sharper, and the wind carried an edge of something she couldn’t quite name—something old and unsettling.

“Ready?” Ky asked, her voice a little too loud in the eerie silence. Ben flicked on his EMF meter, its soft hum breaking the stillness. “Let’s do this.”

The tunnels beneath Fort Oldstead were colder than they expected. The walls, slick with moisture and covered in patches of moss, seemed to close in on them as they ventured deeper, the dim light from their flashlights barely penetrating the darkness ahead. The smell of mildew mixed with the faint trace of rotting wood, as though time itself had decayed in this place.

Ky couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every so often, she’d catch movement in the corner of her eye—a shadow that darted away just as she turned her head, or a flicker of something shifting in the darkness. Littleface and Ears were sticking unusually close to her, their tails puffed up as they prowled silently beside her.

“Does anyone else feel that?” Ben asked, stopping suddenly. His EMF meter was spiking, the needle jumping erratically. “Feel what?” Mikey asked, lowering his camera to glance around.

“The air… it’s heavy,” Ben muttered, his brow furrowing. “Like something’s about to happen.” Sandy, her flashlight sweeping over the walls, stopped at a rusted metal door partially ajar. “Guys, over here.”

They gathered around her as she gently pushed the door open with a soft creak, revealing a small room filled with decaying wooden crates and old military equipment. Dust coated everything, and the air smelled of stale smoke. As Ky stepped inside, her eyes fell on a faded poster pinned to the wall—an old recruitment poster for soldiers, the image of a stern-faced officer staring down at them, his eyes seeming to follow them as they moved.

” This is just like that time in Ghostbusters, except… worse!” Greg whispered, eyeing the shadows in the corners. “Look at this,” Sandy said, kneeling beside one of the crates. She wiped the dust away, revealing the remnants of old military documents. “It’s dated from the early 1900s… the same time the journal was written.”

“Do you think this is where they… did the experiments?” Ky asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Before anyone could answer, a sudden, sharp noise echoed through the tunnels—a distant clattering, like metal being dragged across stone. The sound sent a chill through them, and they all froze, their flashlights shaking slightly in their hands.

“What was that?” Greg hissed, his face paling. “Shh,” Ben said, raising a hand. His EMF meter spiked again, the needle jumping wildly. “We’re not alone.”

The footsteps began then—slow, deliberate, growing louder as they seemed to approach from deeper within the fort. The kids exchanged panicked glances. “Time to go,” Sandy whispered urgently.

They backed out of the room and into the main tunnel, their footsteps quickening as the eerie sound of footfalls continued behind them. The darkness seemed to pulse around them, thick and suffocating, as if the very walls were closing in.

As they rounded a corner, Mikey’s flashlight flickered, casting erratic shadows on the walls. For a brief moment, Ky thought she saw the outline of a figure—a man in a tattered military uniform, standing at attention, his face hidden in shadow.

“Run!” Ben yelled, snapping them out of their trance. They sprinted through the tunnels, the sound of footsteps following, echoing off the stone walls, growing faster with each step. Ky’s heart pounded in her chest as they stumbled up a flight of crumbling stairs, bursting into the open air, where the night had fully descended, wrapping the fort in darkness.

They didn’t stop running until they were a good distance from the fort’s entrance, their breath coming in ragged gasps, cold air burning their lungs. The world outside felt lighter—less oppressive—but the terror of what they’d just experienced clung to them like a second skin.

“What…what was that?” Greg gasped, bending over to catch his breath. Ben shook his head, staring back at the fort, now just a dark silhouette against the starlit sky. “Whatever it was, it felt like it didn’t want us there.”

“Soldiers,” Ky whispered. “It was like…they were still guarding something.”

“Or someone,” Sandy said, her voice shaking slightly. “Maybe the house isn’t the only thing haunted. Maybe this whole island is.” Mikey, still clutching his camera, reviewed the footage in stunned silence. “I think…I think I caught something.”

Ky shivered, not just from the cold but from the realization that they were dealing with something far bigger, far older, and far more dangerous than they had ever imagined. The house on Maplewood Street, Fort Oldstead, the journal… they were all connected. And whatever was haunting them wasn’t done yet.

As they stood there, catching their breath, the wind picked up, rustling the leaves around them. The air smelled of damp earth and distant firewood, the cozy warmth of autumn at odds with the cold terror that clung to their bones. Littleface meowed softly, brushing against Ky’s leg, her wide eyes reflecting the distant glow of the town lights.

“We need to go back,” Ky said suddenly, her voice resolute. Sandy looked at her like she was crazy. “Back? To where?”

“To the house. To Maplewood. This isn’t over. If we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.” The group exchanged nervous glances, but none of them argued. They all knew it—deep down, they had known from the moment they first set foot in the house. Maplewood House was waiting for them. “Let’s check out the moat first, just to do a quick scan” Ky said.

Secrets of the Moat

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers across the landscape, giving way to the encroaching night. The chill in the air deepened, settling into the group’s bones as they made their way to the moat surrounding Fort Oldstead. The trees swayed gently, their rustling leaves whispering secrets, while a thick fog began to roll in from the woods, creeping toward the water like an uninvited guest.

The moat had long been the subject of whispered rumors—dark tales of drowned souls and lost treasures that had slipped beneath the surface. As the group approached, the murky water shimmered dully in the fading light, reflecting the last vestiges of day like a forgotten mirror. The smell of damp earth mixed with decay hung heavy in the air, evoking a sense of unease.

Ky led the way, her flashlight piercing through the fog, casting beams of light that danced on the water’s surface. “This is where the stories say they tossed the bodies,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “They say the spirits can still be seen wandering the moat at night.”

“Great. Just what we need,” Greg muttered, pulling his jacket tighter around him. “Ghosts that want to drown us.” “Come on, it’s just water,” Mikey said, trying to lighten the mood. He flicked his camera on, aiming it at the moat. “Let’s see if we can catch anything spooky.”

Sandy crouched down at the water’s edge, her flashlight illuminating the dark depths. The water looked thick and oily, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple that shimmered like a phantom. “What do you think we’re going to find here? More shadows?”

“Maybe something useful,” Ben said, scanning the area with his EMF meter. The device emitted a low hum, almost lost in the ambient sounds of the night. “If there are spirits here, they might lead us to something.”

Just then, a low foghorn echoed from somewhere in the distance, sending a cold chill down Ky’s spine. She shuddered, trying to shake off the feeling that they were being watched. The fog thickened around them, wrapping the trees and the fort in a damp embrace, making everything appear shadowy and distorted.

“Look!” Sandy exclaimed, pointing toward the surface of the moat. As they watched, something shifted beneath the murky water—shapes moving just out of sight, slinking like shadows in the fog.

“What was that?” Greg’s voice quivered, his bravado fading as he took a step back. “Probably just fish,” Ky replied, though even she felt a twinge of doubt. The water had a way of hiding secrets, of concealing what was truly beneath.

Mikey moved closer to the edge, his curiosity outweighing his fear. “We should get a closer look. Maybe something’s down there.” He leaned over, peering into the gloom.

Suddenly, he stumbled backward, nearly falling into the moat. “I swear I saw a hand!” he gasped, his eyes wide with terror. Ky’s heart raced as she stepped closer to Mikey, the fog swirling around them like a living entity. “A hand? Are you serious?”

Before Mikey could respond, a strange flash of light flickered beneath the surface. The water churned, and something glimmered in the murk—a glint of metal that caught the dying light. Without thinking, Ky knelt by the edge, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement.

“Hold on, I’ll check it out,” she said, pulling off her shoes and rolling up her jeans. The cold air bit at her skin, and the water felt shockingly frigid as she plunged her hand into the depths. She felt around, the silt swirling around her fingers like ghostly tendrils.

“Be careful!” Sandy called out, her voice taut with concern. Ky’s fingertips brushed against something hard and rusty. With a quick tug, she pulled it free from the mud. As she emerged from the water, gasping, she held up a rusted key, its shape jagged and worn, glinting ominously in the fog-drenched light. “Look!” she shouted, excitement flooding through her as she wiped the muck off the key. “It’s a key!”

“What does it open?” Ben asked, moving closer to examine the find. “I remember seeing a lock back in the Maplewood House,” Ky replied, her mind racing with possibilities. “This might be it!”

The fog rolled in thicker now, curling around them like icy fingers. Shadows danced on the edges of their vision, creating shapes that seemed to lurk just beyond their reach. Ears and Littleface darted around, their ears pricked, meowing in distress, as if sensing something they couldn’t see.

“Let’s get back to the house,” Sandy urged, her voice shaking slightly. “I don’t like this fog. It feels… wrong.”

“Yeah,” Greg added, his eyes darting around. “I’m starting to feel like we’re not alone out here.” With the key clutched tightly in her hand, Ky nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. “We have to go. We might be onto something big.”

They quickly made their way back along the moat, the fog swallowing their footsteps and the trees looming closer as the night deepened. The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional sound of water lapping at the bank or the rustle of leaves, and Ky couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following them, hidden just out of sight.

As they reached the edge of the fort, a low, mournful sound echoed from the water, a whisper that seemed to call to them. Ky hesitated, glancing back at the moat, the fog swirling like a living creature. Did she see a shape beneath the surface? Something pale and ghostly?

“Mikey, take a picture!” she urged, her voice rising above the rising dread. He aimed his camera at the water, but just then, the flash went off, illuminating the surface for a split second. For that brief moment, they all saw it—a glimpse of a pale figure submerged just below the surface, its hand reaching upward, fingers splayed as if trying to break free.

“Nope! Don’t like that!” Ky said, fear propelling her forward. The group bolted for the fort entrance, the sound of splashing water echoing behind them. Ky’s heart raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins as they crossed the threshold into the darkness of Fort Oldstead once more.

Inside the fort, the atmosphere felt heavy with secrets. They gathered in a small room lit by their flashlights, their breaths quick and shallow, faces pale as they processed what had just happened. The key, still gripped tightly in Ky’s hand, felt both like a promise and a curse. “What do we do now?” Greg asked, glancing nervously at the door as if expecting it to burst open.

“We need to get back to the Maplewood House and see what this key unlocks,” Ky said, determination sparking in her eyes. “Whatever is going on, it’s all connected. We need to uncover the truth.”

“Are you sure we should go back?” Sandy questioned, anxiety lacing her voice. “After everything we’ve seen… what if it’s too dangerous?”

“Too late to back out now,” Ben said, glancing at the group. “If we don’t figure this out, who knows what will happen?”

As they stood there, the fort’s walls seemed to echo their fears, holding centuries of whispered histories. Littleface and Ears darted between their legs, their meows urgent and frantic, as if urging them to make a choice.

With a final look back toward the darkened entrance, Ky nodded. “Let’s go. It’s time we faced whatever’s waiting for us at Maplewood House.”

The group nodded in agreement, a sense of camaraderie filling the air as they prepared to venture back into the unknown. They would unravel the secrets of the moat, the house, and the ghosts that lingered, one way or another. As they stepped into the fog once more, the night closed around them, thick and suffocating, promising challenges ahead.

Return to Maplewood House

The chill of the autumn night wrapped around the Phantom Finders like a blanket of dread as they approached Maplewood House once more. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light that illuminated the weathered facade of the house. The once-vibrant paint had faded to a ghostly hue, peeling and cracking like the dry skin of an old crone. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo their apprehension as they stepped onto the porch, the wood groaning beneath their weight, as if it too dreaded their return.

Ky held the rusty key tightly in her hand, its jagged edges glinting ominously in the moonlight. “We’re not leaving without answers this time,” she declared, her voice steady despite the quivering in her gut. “Right, answers,” Greg echoed, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting around the shadowy corners of the porch. “Just… let’s be careful, okay? Last time was intense.”

“Intense? That’s one way to put it,” Sandy said, glancing at Mikey, who was fidgeting with his camera strap. “We’ve got this. We’ve been through a lot together, right?”

Mikey nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the house, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling in his eyes. “Let’s just make sure to stick together. No one goes off exploring alone.”

With a determined nod, Ky pushed the door open, the ancient hinges protesting with a loud groan that echoed through the foyer like a warning. The air inside felt stale, thick with the scents of dust and decay. The shadows deepened, swirling around them as if alive, eager to engulf the newcomers.

“Okay, let’s find that hidden door,” Ky said, her voice cutting through the silence. They spread out, flashlights in hand, scanning the familiar but eerie interior. The flickering beams of light danced over the walls, revealing dusty frames and faded wallpaper, their once-bright patterns now muted and worn.

As they moved deeper into the house, the feeling of being watched intensified. Ky’s heart raced as she led the way, the key pulsing in her pocket as if it held a life of its own. “I think the hidden door was upstairs, in the hallway,” she recalled, her mind racing with the details from the journals they had read in Ky’s basement.

“Right,” Sandy agreed, her voice low, “Let’s not waste time. The sooner we get to it, the sooner we can figure out what’s going on here.”

They ascended the grand staircase, each step creaking ominously beneath them, the sound amplifying the eerie ambiance. The hallway at the top felt darker, the air thicker, almost suffocating. Shadows clung to the corners, and the sense of dread was palpable.

“This is where we saw those shadows last time,” Greg whispered, glancing nervously at the doors lining the hallway. “What if they’re still here?”

“Focus,” Ky urged, trying to project confidence. “We’re looking for a hidden door, remember? Let’s check each room quickly.”

They moved from room to room, each one revealing its own tale of despair. Dusty toys littered the floors, remnants of children’s laughter long gone. Faded photographs of the family adorned the walls, their smiles frozen in time, yet their eyes seemed to follow the kids, full of secrets and sorrows.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway, where a large tapestry hung, its fabric thick with age. Ky’s heart raced as she approached it, recalling the journal’s mention of a hidden door. With a deep breath, she pulled the tapestry aside, revealing a narrow panel built into the wall.

“Here it is!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement and fear. She inserted the key into the rusted lock, its metal cold against her palm. “Do you think it will even work?” Greg asked, his anxiety evident.

“It has to,” Ky replied, twisting the key. The lock clicked loudly in the silence, and a rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She pushed the panel open, revealing a dark, narrow staircase spiraling downwards into the depths of the house.

“I guess we’re going down?” Sandy said, uncertainty creeping into her voice. “Unless you want to turn back now,” Ky challenged, her determination unwavering. “Let’s do it,” Mikey said, his voice steadying the group. “Together.”

With that, they descended the stairs, each step echoing ominously in the confined space. The air grew colder as they reached the bottom, a chill seeping into their bones. When they finally stepped into the underground room, they were met with an overwhelming musty smell, as if the air had been trapped here for decades.

Their flashlights illuminated the room, revealing dusty shelves lined with strange artifacts: odd trinkets, faded photographs, and what appeared to be a collection of old military uniforms, each one seeming to whisper stories of the past. “Oh wow,” Greg breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. “What is all this?”

“This must be the family’s collection,” Ky said, her heart pounding as she scanned the room. “Look at all this stuff. They must have been here for a reason.”

“Check out this old trunk,” Sandy called out, her voice tinged with excitement. She knelt beside a weathered chest, its lock long rusted shut. “I wonder what’s inside.”

“Let’s not get distracted,” Ky reminded them, stepping toward a table piled high with journals. Her heart raced as she opened the first one, its pages yellowed and brittle. The handwriting was elegant but shaky, as if penned by someone whose hand trembled with fear.

As she read, the room fell silent. The entries detailed strange occurrences—the sounds of children laughing in the night, the feeling of being watched, and the sinister whispers that floated through the air. Each page painted a more disturbing picture than the last.

“Listen to this,” Ky began, her voice barely above a whisper. “There were rumors of missing children in the area, children who had vanished without a trace. The family tried to protect them, but…” She paused, feeling the weight of the words.

“But what?” Mikey prompted, his eyes wide. “They thought the house was cursed,” Ky continued, her heart heavy. “They wrote about shadows that came alive, about spirits that roamed the halls, searching for something… or someone.”

As she flipped to the next entry, a chilling realization washed over her. “They believed the spirits of the drowned were linked to this place, and they were trying to keep the children safe from the fate that befell others.”

Sandy shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “So the house is tied to those stories from the moat? The ones we heard at the fort?” Ky nodded gravely. “It seems so. This family didn’t just live here; they were protecting secrets buried deep within its walls.”

Greg leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. “What else does it say?” “This is the last entry,” Ky read, her voice quaking. “They wrote about a stormy night when the shadows became too strong, too powerful. They felt the house itself was alive, hungering for the souls of the children. They feared that one day, they would be powerless to protect them.”

The last words lingered in the air, chilling them to the bone. “What if they weren’t able to protect them?” Sandy whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the dim room.

“We can’t let that happen,” Ky said fiercely. “We have to find a way to break this cycle, to help the spirits find peace.”

Suddenly, the sound of a loud crash echoed from above, causing them all to jump. The very walls seemed to tremble, and the room was filled with a palpable sense of foreboding.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Mikey suggested, glancing nervously toward the staircase. “No,” Ky said, shaking her head. “We can’t leave yet. We need to know what else is down here. There could be more journals or clues about how to put the spirits to rest.”

The group exchanged hesitant glances, but Ky’s resolve was unshakeable. They had come too far to turn back now. As they continued to search the room, the atmosphere grew heavier, the air thick with tension. The flickering lights cast shifting shadows on the walls, creating illusions of movement that sent chills racing down their spines.

Finally, Sandy approached another trunk, its surface scratched and worn. “What do you think is inside this one?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Only one way to find out,” Ky said, her heart racing as they gathered around it. They pried the lid open, the hinges creaking ominously, revealing an array of forgotten toys, dolls with glassy eyes, and a collection of old letters yellowed with age. “Dolls? Seriously?” Greg scoffed, but his voice was edged with unease. “Creepy.”

“Check out those letters,” Mikey said, his excitement momentarily outweighing his fear. He picked up a letter, its handwriting ornate and flowery. “They look like they’re from the family.”

As he read aloud, the atmosphere shifted. The letter detailed the family’s struggles to keep their children safe amidst the strange happenings in the house, their growing despair as one by one, the children started to disappear.

“The last child…” Mikey’s voice trailed off, his face pale. “They were terrified that they would lose the last one, that the house would take them all.”

The weight of their situation pressed down on them, and the urgency of their mission grew stronger. “We have to help them,” Ky said, determination blazing in her eyes. “We have to find out what happened to that last child and break whatever curse holds this house in its grip.”

Just then, a cold wind swept through the underground room, causing the candles to flicker and the shadows to dance wildly across the walls. The sound of soft, mournful whispers filled the air, like echoes from a long-forgotten past.

“I think the spirits are trying to communicate,” Sandy whispered, fear creeping into her voice. “Maybe they’re trying to lead us somewhere,” Greg suggested, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Or warn us,” Mikey added, a shiver running down his spine. “Let’s stay focused,” Ky said firmly. “We can’t let fear stop us now. There’s something here we need to uncover.”

As they continued to explore the room, the whispers grew louder, swirling around them like a spectral wind. Each child felt the cold fingers of the past brush against their skin, urging them onward.

Finally, in the far corner of the room, Ky spotted a dusty old mirror, its surface covered in grime and cobwebs. “What’s this?” she asked, moving closer.

As she wiped the glass with her sleeve, the reflection that stared back was not just her own. Behind her, shadows twisted and writhed, forming faces of lost children, their eyes wide with fear.

The room grew darker, and the whispers turned into cries for help. “They’re trapped,” Ky gasped, realizing the urgency of their task. “We have to help them!”

“We need to find out how to free them,” Greg said, his voice trembling. “They’re trying to tell us how we just need to listen.” With renewed determination, Ky turned back to the journals and letters scattered across the table. “If we can just piece together their story, we might find a way to help them escape.”

The whispers swirled around them, each child’s story intertwining with the others, revealing the truth hidden within the depths of Maplewood House.

As they delved deeper into the secrets of the past, the autumn night outside deepened, the world above growing silent. The house seemed to breathe with a life of its own, its walls alive with the echoes of the lost.

Together, they would unravel the mystery, confront the darkness, and ensure that no more children would vanish into the shadows of Maplewood House.

As they prepared to uncover the final secrets, the air crackled with tension, the autumn leaves whispering tales of courage and despair. The Phantom Finders stood united, ready to face whatever lay ahead, determined to bring peace to the restless souls entwined within the haunted walls of Maplewood House.

A Sweet Release

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the autumn sky transformed into a canvas of deep indigo and shimmering stars, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere inside Maplewood House. The air was thick with an unsettling chill, making Ky’s breath mist in front of her as she and her friends stood in the hidden underground room. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows that seemed to mock their every move, whispering of the ghostly figures that lurked beyond the peeling wallpaper.

Ky clutched the journal tightly, its worn cover smooth beneath her fingers. “We have to face them. We can’t let them trap us here!” she declared, her voice strong yet trembling with uncertainty. The others exchanged glances, their faces pale, reflecting the fear that clung to them like a heavy fog.

Just then, Littleface and Ears McEarson, Ky’s sleek grey cats, suddenly bolted to the entrance, their tails puffed like tiny flags. “What is it, you two?” Ky asked, a mix of annoyance and concern flaring in her voice. The cats meowed furiously, their sounds echoing off the damp walls, as if trying to communicate something urgent.

“They sense something,” Greg whispered, taking a step back. The temperature in the room dropped further, their breaths now visible, swirling like ghostly apparitions. The shadows in the corners seemed to grow, extending fingers toward them, beckoning.

“We need to stick together,” Sandy urged, her eyes wide as she scanned the room. “Whatever is haunting this place, it’s trying to close in on us.” Mikey nodded, clutching the EMF meter tightly. “I can feel it! The energy is off the charts!” The gadget beeped erratically, sending vibrations through his hand.

Suddenly, the walls creaked, a sound reminiscent of old bones cracking. The house felt alive, as though it were breathing heavily, ready to engulf them whole. “We can’t let the house win,” Ky said, her voice steady now. “We have to break the curse!”

As if responding to her determination, the shadows shifted, and a faint light appeared in the corner of the room. It flickered like a candle flame, illuminating a figure—the outline of a child. “Help us,” it whispered, its voice echoing like a long-lost memory. The figure pointed toward the darkened hallway that led further into the depths of the house. “Did you see that?” Ben exclaimed, stepping closer. “It’s leading us somewhere!”

“Let’s go,” Ky urged, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. They followed the flickering light, their footsteps muffled against the dusty floorboards. The air thickened with dread, and the whispers grew louder, swirling around them like a cyclone of despair.

The group stepped into the hallway, the shadows closing in around them. Every step felt heavier, as if the house were trying to hold them back. The cats, usually calm, hissed and arched their backs, alerting them to the unseen dangers lurking just out of sight. “Stay close!” Sandy said, grabbing Mikey’s arm as they moved deeper into the house. “We can’t lose each other!”

As they ventured forward, they stumbled upon a door they had not noticed before—ancient and imposing, it seemed to breathe with an ominous energy. The whispers crescendoed, rising in a haunting chorus that sent chills down their spines. “This must be it,” Ky said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The heart of the curse.”

With shaky hands, she reached for the doorknob, its surface cool against her palm. As she turned it, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with dusty relics and remnants of a family long gone. In the center stood an old rocking chair, its motion eerily rhythmic, as if someone unseen were sitting in it.

“Look!” Greg pointed at a family portrait on the wall, the faces eerily familiar to the children they had seen. The resemblance was uncanny—hauntingly close. “They must be the ones trapped here!”

As the group stepped inside, the air grew heavy, thick with sorrow. The candles flickered violently, casting long shadows that twisted and writhed as if alive. “They’re angry,” Mikey said, his voice quaking. “They want us to leave!”

“No! We have to help them!” Ky shouted, her resolve solidifying. “They need to be free!” Just then, the room plunged into darkness, the flickering light extinguished. The whispers turned into anguished cries, echoing off the walls. “Help us! Save us!” The voices crescendoed, wrapping around them like chains, pulling them deeper into despair.

“Focus, everyone!” Sandy shouted over the cacophony. “We need to break the curse! The journal said something about a sacrifice!”

“A sacrifice?” Ben repeated, his eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“Not a real sacrifice,” Ky clarified quickly. “Maybe we need to give something of ours. Something meaningful!” She rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a charm bracelet her grandmother had given her. “This has been with me forever. It means a lot to me, but I’d rather let go of it than see these kids trapped forever!”

“Are you sure, Ky?” Greg asked, fear flashing in his eyes. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“It has to,” she replied, her voice steady despite the rising panic. “It’s worth the risk.”

With trembling hands, Ky stepped forward and placed the bracelet on the rocking chair. The room shook violently, and the air crackled with energy. The whispers transformed into screams, echoing through the house, as if the spirits were fighting against the release.

In that moment, Ears McEarson and Littleface leaped forward, their bodies low and tense, eyes fixed on the darkness. “What are they doing?” Sandy cried out, watching the cats as they began to pace back and forth, their fur standing on end.

“Maybe they know something!” Mikey shouted. “Follow them!”

With a shared glance of determination, the Phantom Finders followed the cats as they darted towards the back of the room, leading them to a hidden door concealed behind a stack of old crates. The whispers grew frantic, echoing in a rising crescendo as the door creaked open, revealing a hidden passage filled with flickering light.

“Go!” Ky urged, and the group sprinted through the door, leaving the chaos of the room behind. The hallway twisted and turned, leading them into a cavern filled with ancient relics and faded portraits, all echoing the lost lives of the children trapped in Maplewood House.

“We need to find the source of the curse,” Greg said, panting as they pressed forward. The air was electric, and the flickering lights seemed to guide their way.

As they reached the end of the corridor, they found themselves in a grand chamber, the walls adorned with portraits of the family who once lived in the house. At the center stood an altar, covered in dust and cobwebs, with a faded picture of the last missing child.

“This must be it,” Ky whispered, her heart racing. “This is where we can break the curse!”

Suddenly, the air grew frigid, and the shadows coalesced into the ghostly figures of the trapped children. Their faces were twisted in pain, begging for release. “Help us! Free us!” they cried, their voices a haunting echo that reverberated in the chamber.

“Ky! What do we do?” Ben shouted, desperation creeping into his voice as the spirits closed in around them.

“We need to perform the ritual from the journal!” Ky shouted back, flipping through the pages frantically. “It said something about calling their names and offering a token of remembrance!”

With the journal open, Ky began to call out the names of the children. One by one, the spirits stepped closer, their faces softening as they recognized their own names. “Emily… Jacob… Sarah…”

As the names flowed from her lips, the room filled with a warm, golden light, pushing back the shadows. The spirits swirled around them, their cries of anguish transforming into whispers of gratitude.

“Now, the token!” Mikey shouted, searching through his backpack. He pulled out a small toy, a faded dinosaur he had cherished as a child. “This was my favorite! I want to give it to them!”

As he placed it on the altar, the light intensified, illuminating the entire chamber. The spirits surrounded it, their forms shimmering with joy. “Thank you! Thank you!” they sang, their voices harmonizing in a beautiful melody that filled the air.

Suddenly, a surge of energy coursed through the room, lifting the spirits into the air. The shadows began to retreat, pulled back by an unseen force, and the children felt the weight of their mission lifting.

The last of the spirits, a small boy with tear-streaked cheeks, looked at Ky with grateful eyes. “Thank you for freeing us, it was so cold in there.” With a final, serene smile, he vanished into the light, leaving only the warmth of their presence behind.

As the golden glow faded, the chamber fell silent, and the oppressive darkness lifted. The haunting weight that had pressed against the Phantom Finders melted away, replaced by a sense of calm.

“We did it!” Greg shouted, a wide grin spreading across his face. “We really did it!”

“We freed them!” Sandy exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

Ky felt a rush of warmth spread through her, knowing that they had faced their fears and emerged victorious. “The house is finally at peace,” she said softly, glancing around at her friends, who stood beaming with pride.

Ears McEarson and Littleface strutted around them, purring and rubbing against their legs, a playful reminder that they were not alone.

With the ghosts freed, the Phantom Finders made their way back through the twisting hallways, the house now feeling lighter, almost cheerful. The creeping shadows had retreated, and the once-frozen air was now filled with the crisp scents of autumn leaves and warm spices, as if the house itself had sighed in relief.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, the stars twinkled above like a thousand tiny beacons of hope, illuminating the path before them. Maplewood House, with all its secrets and stories, would stand empty, but the memories of the children who once inhabited it would live on in the hearts of those brave enough to confront the darkness.

The Phantom Finders stood together, united by their adventure, knowing that they had not only broken a curse but had also woven their own story into the fabric of the town—a story of friendship, courage, and the timeless fight against the shadows that lurk in every corner.

And as the leaves rustled in the wind, the echoes of laughter lingered in the air, a reminder that the bonds they forged would last far beyond the autumn chill.

A Crisp Autumn Walk

The chill of the autumn night wrapped around the Phantom Finders like a soft, comforting blanket as they left the Maplewood House behind, the weight of their adventure settling on their shoulders. Gone were the oppressive shadows that had clung to the walls; instead, a serene stillness embraced the air, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves dancing in the breeze.

“Can you believe we did it?” Ben exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as they stood in the moonlit path, gazing back at the house that had become a character in their story. The windows, once dark and foreboding, now glowed softly, reflecting the light of the stars above, as if the house itself was at peace.

“I thought we were really done for a few times,” Greg admitted, a grin spreading across his face as he playfully nudged Ky. “But you were amazing, Ky. You held it together when it mattered most.”

Ky felt a rush of warmth at the compliment, her cheeks flushing under the cool night air. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you,” she replied, her heart swelling with gratitude for her friends. “We made a great team.”

As they stood together, Ears and Littleface padded forward, their tails held high, proud of their role in the evening’s events. The cats seemed to bask in the afterglow of their adventure, their eyes glinting with mischief. Ears nudged Ky’s leg with her chonky head, demanding attention.

“Alright, alright! You guys deserve some extra treats for saving the day,” Ky laughed, reaching down to scratch Ears behind the ears. Littleface purred loudly, weaving between her legs, demanding equal affection.

They began to walk on, and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot punctuated their footsteps. The air was crisp, laced with the sweet aroma of woodsmoke from distant chimneys, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil and fallen leaves. It felt like the world was celebrating their victory, a fitting end to a harrowing adventure.

As they made their way down the overgrown path, Sandy paused and looked back at the house. “Do you think they’re really gone?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of worry in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Ky replied, her gaze fixed on the windows, now unclouded by sorrow. “I think they finally found peace. We did what we came to do.”

Mikey, his enthusiasm bubbling over, added, “I can’t wait to tell everyone at school! The legend of Maplewood House will be epic now!” He was already planning how to spin the tale, no doubt envisioning himself as the hero in a story that would send shivers down his classmates’ spines.

Ben chuckled. “Maybe we should start advertising our ghost-hunting services. There are still so many mysteries left on Monroe Island! We can’t let this be our last adventure.”

“Absolutely!” Greg agreed, his eyes shining with excitement. “We’ve uncovered something really amazing tonight. Who knows what else is out there?”

They walked along the narrow moonlit path leading to the edge of the woods, the treetops whispering secrets above them. The leaves fluttered down like confetti, a brilliant mix of gold, crimson, and brown, creating a tapestry of color beneath their feet. Each step felt lighter than the last, the burden of fear finally lifted from their shoulders.

But as they reached the edge of the woods, a low sound rippled through the air—a soft whisper, like the sigh of the trees. They stopped in their tracks, glancing at one another, a shared understanding passing between them. “Did you hear that?” Ky asked, her voice tinged with both excitement and apprehension. “It sounded like… laughter?” Greg replied, his brow furrowing.

“I think it’s them,” Ky said softly, glancing back at the house one last time. The wind picked up, rustling the branches above them. “They’re happy now. We set them free.”

Sandy nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let’s remember this feeling, the way it feels to help people, living or in-between. It’s a powerful feeling.”

As they turned to leave, the soft laughter echoed in the distance, harmonizing with the rustling leaves, as if the spirits were thanking them for their courage, their light mingling with the autumn air.

The group walked in companionable silence for a moment, contemplating the evening’s events. They had faced their fears, discovered hidden truths, and saved the souls of the long-lost children. Yet in that stillness, the spark of adventure still lingered, teasing them with the promise of what was yet to come.

Finally, as they reached the last bend before the road led back to town, Ky looked at her friends, her heart brimming with excitement. “So, what’s next?”

“Ghost hunting in every corner of Monroe Island!” Mikey declared, raising his hands as if announcing a grand quest. “Count me in,” Sandy said, determination dancing in her eyes. “I’m game,” Ben added, an infectious grin spreading across his face.

Greg, looking pensive, said, “I have a feeling that there are more secrets waiting for us. We just need to know where to look.”

Their laughter mingled with the wind, echoing through the trees as they made their way back toward home. The air was electric with possibilities, the warmth of friendship and the thrill of adventure illuminating the path before them.

As they reached the edge of the road, Ky took one last glance at Maplewood House, its silhouette dark against the twinkling stars. She felt a sense of closure wash over her, a warmth settling deep within her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing the spirits could hear her.

With that, they walked into the embrace of the night, the world around them alight with the promise of new adventures, the spirit of Halloween lurking just beyond the horizon. They didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: the Phantom Finders would return, ready to unearth the next mystery that Monroe Island had to offer.

And as they reached home, Littleface and Ears McEarson trotted alongside them, tails high and spirits bright, ready to share in the well-deserved treats and head scratches that awaited them. The night was far from over, and as the moon hung high in the sky, it felt like a guardian watching over their newfound legacy—a legacy of bravery, friendship, and the joy of discovery, wrapped in the crisp, cozy vibes of autumn that would forever mark their adventure.

A New Mystery

The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson as the Phantom Finders wandered a familiar path the day after the Maplewood events. The air was filled with the crisp scent of fallen leaves, a reminder that autumn was in full swing, and the cool breeze danced around them like a playful ghost. Each step echoed the thrill of their recent adventure, a pulse of energy that thrummed through the group as they recounted the moments that had tested their courage and solidified their bond.

“Can you believe we actually broke the curse?” Ben said, practically bouncing with excitement. “Yeah, we really did that,” Ky replied, a smile lighting up her face as she looked at her friends. “And we couldn’t have done it without each of us there.”

“Especially with the way Littleface and Ears kept watch,” Mikey added, grinning as he scratched Ears behind the ears. The chubby cat purred loudly, seemingly enjoying the attention. Littleface strutted alongside them, her tail swishing like a flag of victory.

As they walked along the winding path leading away from town, the group’s laughter mingled with the rustling leaves overhead, creating a symphony of autumnal joy. The world felt vibrant and alive, as if the spirits of the past were celebrating alongside them.

Suddenly, Mikey stopped, squinting into the dense thicket that bordered the path. “Wait a second! What’s that?” he called out, pointing towards a shadowy outline partially hidden by the trees.

The group halted, curiosity piquing their interest. “What do you see?” Sandy asked, her brow furrowing as she peered into the underbrush. “I don’t know,” Mikey said, excitement bubbling in his voice. “It looks like an old fort tower!”

The others exchanged glances, a mix of intrigue and apprehension crossing their faces. “A fort tower? Out here?” Greg asked, tilting his head. “I didn’t know there was anything like that around.”

Ky stepped forward, straining her eyes to see past the tangled branches. “We should check it out! It could be another mystery waiting for us.”

Mikey nodded vigorously, already inching closer to the woods. “Come on! It looks like it hasn’t been touched in decades. What if it’s filled with more ghost stories?”

The lure of the unknown hung thick in the air, and the thrill of discovery ignited a spark within them. “Alright,” Sandy said, her voice steadying, “but we need to be careful. We don’t know what’s out there.”

The group gathered together, exchanging eager glances, their hearts pounding with anticipation. They could feel the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

As they moved closer to the treeline, Ky’s cats darted ahead, their instinct for adventure guiding them. Littleface and Ears meowed in what felt like enthusiastic agreement, darting between the trees, their tails high and playful.

“See? Even the cats are excited!” Ben laughed, following after them, the others close behind. They reached the edge of the woods, the dense foliage parting to reveal the forgotten tower, its stone walls draped in thick vines and moss. The structure loomed before them, worn and weathered, the remnants of a bygone era etched into the crumbling stone. “It looks like a castle,” Greg breathed, his voice tinged with awe. “What do you think it was used for?”

“Maybe it was part of an old fort that protected the island,” Ky suggested, her eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve heard stories about military bases from ages ago.”

The tower stood tall, its entrance yawning open like a mouth, inviting and intimidating all at once. The air felt charged, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for the children to take the next step.

“Should we go inside?” Sandy asked, glancing around at her friends. “I mean, we can’t leave without checking it out.” Mikey’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’ve come this far, right? Ghosts don’t scare us anymore, I mean come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Speak for yourself,” Greg replied, half-smiling but still glancing warily at the tower’s entrance. With a determined nod, Ky stepped forward, leading the way. “Let’s go! We’re the Phantom Finders, after all. We can handle anything that comes our way!”

The others followed suit, their hearts racing in unison as they approached the looming structure. The air grew heavier as they crossed the threshold, stepping into the shadowy entrance. Inside, dust motes danced in the fading light, revealing old stone walls that whispered secrets of long-forgotten battles.

“Imagine what we might find in here!” Mikey exclaimed, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious chamber. “Maybe more old journals or artifacts?” Sandy speculated, her imagination running wild. “What if we discover something that connects to Maplewood House?”

As they ventured deeper into the tower, the atmosphere thickened with mystery, the kind that sent shivers down their spines. Each creak of the old wood beneath their feet echoed like a heartbeat in the stillness, and the air grew colder, hinting at the presence of something beyond the veil of the living.

Just as they reached a narrow staircase winding upward, Ky turned to her friends, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “I can’t wait to tell everyone about this. This place has to have a story, just like Maplewood House did!”

The group huddled together, their spirits high as they explored the unknown. The soft meows of Littleface and Ears echoed around them, a comforting reminder that they weren’t alone in this adventure.

As they ascended the stairs, anticipation crackled in the air like electricity. They didn’t know what lay ahead, but they were ready to face it together, united by their shared love for mystery and the thrill of the unknown.

“This is definitely going to be the next big adventure,” Mikey said, excitement brimming in his voice. “We should name it ‘The Secrets of Old Fort Tower’!”

“Yes!” Sandy chimed in, her enthusiasm infectious. “I love it!” And as they stood at the top of the staircase, gazing out into the shadowy corners of the tower, a sense of purpose washed over them. They were more than just a group of friends; they were the Phantom Finders, a team destined to unravel the mysteries that haunted their world.

With the promise of new adventures stretching out before them like the endless autumn sky, they exchanged determined smiles, hearts brimming with excitement. “Let’s do this!” Ky said, a fierce light igniting in her eyes.

Together, they stepped into the shadows, ready to uncover the secrets that lay waiting in Old Fort Tower, and ready to embrace whatever mysteries the world had yet to offer. The thrill of ghost hunting surged through them, wrapping them in the warm embrace of friendship and the undeniable pull of adventure, setting the stage for the next chapter in their extraordinary journey.

The Secrets of Old Fort Tower

In the small, eerie town of Monroe Island, the Phantom Finders—Ky, Sandy, Mikey, Greg, and Ben—have proven themselves as fearless ghost hunters. After unraveling the dark secrets of Maplewood House, they stumble upon the forgotten Old Fort Tower hidden in the woods.

What starts as an innocent exploration quickly spirals into another thrilling adventure as they uncover a web of mysteries tied to the fort’s past. With haunted soldiers guarding their secrets and chilling artifacts hinting at a sinister history, the friends must confront their fears and work together to unveil the truth.

As they delve deeper, they realize that some secrets are better left buried, and the ghosts of the past might not be ready to rest just yet.

Table of Contents

- Dedication
- Monroe Island
- The Phantom Finders Crew
- The Phantom Finders
- The Haunting of Maplewood House
- Shadows in the Dark
- The Forgotten Journal
- Fort Oldstead
- Secrets of the Moat
- Return to Maplewood House
- A Sweet Release
- A Crisp Autumn Walk
- A New Mystery
- The Secrets of Old Fort Tower