My student submitted the most disturbing thing possible

I’m a high school English teacher. My students submit their assignments to me via email. Usually, I get all of the submissions at the same time, but today I got one from a student I have no record of. I thought it was one of my students who had decided to use a pen name, but the email address was something completely different. The email address was: [email protected] The actual assignment part was just a word document with the title “The Girl in Window.” Here it is: **** The Girl in the Window I was visiting my girlfriend, Samantha, at her parent’s house in Massachusetts. She was finishing her junior year in college, but had come home for Spring Break. Samantha told me that her neighborhood was very safe. She said she felt comfortable walking alone in the middle of the night. One night, I decided to take her up on that offer. I told her I was going to take a walk. “Be careful, GA.” She said, as she handed me my phone. It was 10:30PM. I walked down the street where her house was located, which was a dead end. There were three houses on that street. The first one was hers. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson lived across from them, and the Martland’s lived next door to Samantha’s house. I had never met the Martland’s. There was a large park on the other side of the cul-de-sac. I decided I would take a walk through the park, and maybe do a couple of loops. Since I had just moved to New England from Arizona, I had never seen a real East Coast park before. But this one was beautiful. I took a couple of pictures of the scenery so I could show them to my friends back home. I walked for a while. Once I was deep in the park, I thought I saw a girl in a window. A house that was deep in the park? I was intrigued. I had to see it for myself. I walked closer to the window, and it appeared to be a house built into the side of a hill. A girl was standing in the window, looking out into the park. The window had a lot of dirt on it, as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time. I took a picture of the window. I couldn’t really see the girl too well through the dirt. Once I returned from my walk, Samantha was sitting on the porch. I asked her about the Martland’s, and if she knew anything about them. She said that she would go ask her dad. After a couple of minutes, her dad came out. “What’s up, kiddo?” He asked. “What’s up is that Georgia is going to move in with me, and we’re never going to leave my room.” Samantha joked. “Of course you are. You two are so perfect for each other.” He said. Samantha and I exchanged a weird look. “No, seriously, what’s up?” “Oh, you mean the Martlands. They used to live in that house, maybe fifteen years ago? Their daughter went missing after wandering off. I wasn’t in the neighborhood at the time, so I didn’t know them personally. But what I heard was that they were looking for their daughter everywhere. They looked in the park, and even farther out. They never found her.” Samantha’s eyes widened, and she spoke up. “No, wait a minute. Is this where that urban legend about the girl in the window comes from?” “Yes. It is. I thought you knew.” He said. “I don’t know, I thought that was just a story.” She said. “Oh no, it’s true. Do you remember, Samantha, when I found you in the park at two in the morning, and you had no idea how you got there?” He asked. “Yes, but that was just a dream. I was little.” She replied. “Then why do you think the police found a picture on your phone of a girl in a window?” He asked her in a stern tone. I could tell something was up with Samantha. She had that nervous look in her eyes that she always had when she was hiding something from me. I needed to know more about this legend. “What is it?” I asked. “There’s this legend that if you walk through the park at night, you’ll see this girl in a window. Usually she’s smiling or looking out at you. Some people say she’s a ghost, some people say she’s a demon. The legend says she lures you into her house, deep in the park, where she kills you.” He said. “Not true.” Samantha interjected. “She only lures in the people who already know the truth about what happened to her.” “Wait, I’m sorry? I thought this was just a legend.” “It’s not.” Samantha said. “I was there. I saw her.” **** This is where the assignment ended. I was confused. I didn’t know what was happening. I searched the name “Samantha” and “Georgia” to see if they were real students. Not to my surprise, they weren’t. I searched the term “The Girl in the Window” to see if it was an urban legend. It wasn’t. I received another email from the same email address as before. This is what it said: Dear Gracie, You need to finish this story. Sincerely, A former student I couldn’t finish the story. I didn’t have anymore information. I had no record of this student. I didn’t know them. I sent him an email stating this, and waited for a reply. After about twenty minutes, I finally got one: Dear Gracie, I sent you an email. You have all the information you need. Sincerely, A former student I only had the two emails this former student had sent me. If I was going to finish the story, I would have to go to Samantha’s house. I had no idea where Samantha lived, other than it was in Massachusetts. Wait, the email she sent. It was @outlook.com. Outlook has maps. I typed in the words “Martland,” “Massachusetts,” and “Park.” And it worked. I got a specific address: 1017 Wilder Street in Fall River, Massachusetts. The pin was located in a park. I couldn’t believe it. My former student was luring me into a trap. This student had somehow found out where I lived. This student was going to kill me. I deleted the emails and went to sleep. I forgot about them the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that I received an email from the same address as before. This is what it said: Dear Gracie, I know you’re still on the fence. I’ve been watching you. I left a present for you in the parking lot. I hope you like it. Sincerely, A former student I didn’t open my email until I got to school, at around 7:30AM. I walked outside to the parking lot. I looked at all of the cars, and that’s when I saw it. Taped to my windshield was a picture of a girl in a window. It looked just like the description in the assignment. I ripped off the tape as fast as I could, and then threw the picture in the trash. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. This former student had somehow found out where I worked. This former student knew exactly where I was almost all the time. This former student was going to kill me. I had to end this once and for all. I took off work on Friday, and flew to Boston, Massachusetts. I rented a car and drove to Fall River. It was a five hour drive, but I didn’t care at this point. I just wanted to get this over with. After a couple of hours of driving, I decided to blast some music. I put my phone on Spotify and hit play on the radio. It was playing an indie rock station. I usually never listen to this, as I am a hip hop/r&b kind of girl, but today I decided to switch it up and listen to some rock. The first song to play was “Black Betty.” It’s that old rock song with the “bam-ba-lam”s. As the song was playing, I decided to blast it. As I turned the dial, it skipped the song and went to the next one. The next song? “Barracuda,” by Heart. Barracuda was the name of the story I gave to my students. The story about the murderer in the mountains. I couldn’t believe this. I looked at the GPS. It said I still had three hours left until I reached Fall River. Three hours of driving. Three hours of music. I didn’t know what was going to happen. But I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be good.

My student submitted the most disturbing thing possible

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