There was once a young girl named Scarlet who feared the dark as much as every other young child, except she had a reason. When Scarlet was a child she used to spend her days in an abandoned house on Mulberry Street. The house had been there for years but no one ever tended to it. It simply sat on the edge of the street empty, lifeless. But Scarlet was never afraid of the eerie quietness of the house, she enjoyed the quiet. While her mother and father spent their time arguing about their current financial state, Scarlet would take books, blankets, snacks, and art supplies down to the old house to spend her time alone. No one ever bothered Scarlet when she was there, but everyone knew of the child who spent her time in the filthy home. Kids teased her, her teachers made faces when she entered the room, parents pulled their kids away from her when she passed. But Scarlet never cared. She often found herself talking to no one in particular when alone in the house. She'd talk about her parents bickering and the kids teasing. She talked about her prayers for quiet, for solitude. Scarlet never thought anything of her wishes, until the day they came true. While sitting alone in the house's' basement, bouncing a rubber ball off the stone walls, Scarlet repeated the words she'd told the house everyday for years, "I wish the world were quiet". Scarlet never came home that night.
Six years went by as news reporters became bored with the missing girls' case. Many claimed she'd run away. Some said she was crazy and probably got lost. Then there were those who believed she was swallowed up by the ancient house, taken as it's prisoner. While gathering his daily mail off the porch, one of the residents of Mulberry Street heard a loud noise come from down the road. Grabbing an umbrella to keep dry during the current rain, he started off towards the racket. When the man neared the sound he cringed at the sight of the wicked house looming up before him. The man started to turn back towards the way he came when the sound came again. With one hand holding his umbrella near, the man turned back towards the house. His eyes widened at the sight of the open door, the wind pushing it against the wall being the cause of the sound he'd heard. The dark halls beckoned to the man, pulling him into its darkness. Without realizing what was happening, the man dropped his umbrella and hurried into the house. The hall would have been completely enclosed in darkness if it weren't for the open door casting a soft glow upon the moldy walls and wooden floors. The man stood there for a moment, listening for any indication of life. He'd, of course, heard the stories of the missing girl. He'd thought them to be a myth but the longer he lingered in the hall, the greater his curiosity got a hold of him. A soft humming jolted the man out of his reverie. The sound so soft it could barely be heard over the roaring of the wind outside. The man's feet started to move before he could even think to leave, to run away, to call the cops. As he neared the stairs leading to the basement the humming became clearer. A soft melody filled his ears as he peered into the dark stairwell. Gripping the hem of his shirt in his hands the man descended into the darkness, using his other hand on the wall as a guide. Emerging into the basement the humming stopped abruptly, leaving the man surround by both darkness and silence at once. He started to shiver as the coldness of the room seeped in through his clothes. "Hello?" he dared whisper, his voice shaking slightly. A shuffling in the corner opposite of him snatched his attention. Backing against the nearest wall the man waited. The humming started again, slower this time. The man realized with dread that the voice obviously belonged to a young girl as her tone took on a sweeter note. A light bulb started to flicker in the center of the room where it hung from a string on the ceiling. The humming stopped again. The man stared into the dim light at his surroundings. A pile of rugged blankets sat in one corner of the room, a small doll in the other. Gathering up all of his courage, the man approached the doll as if it were a wild animal that could attack at any moment if he weren't careful. The doll was no bigger than the man's own two hands, it's hair was matted with dirt and dust. The man's heart nearly stopped at the words scrawled across the doll's forehead, "Property of Scarlet Benoit." Leaning forward to further inspect the doll the man felt a slow ache start in his heart, "What had been done to this poor girl?" he thought. Turning his head to look at the pile of blankets on the floor he frowned. Turning back, the breath was knocked out of the man as he stared at the empty spot where the doll had once been. Stumbling back a step, the man tripped onto his backside and groaned. Rubbing his side he glanced up, the stone wall on this side of the basement had five words carved into its center. "The world will be quiet." Heart racing, the man jumped to his feet and turned to flee up the basement steps. There, in the basements doorway stood an older Scarlet. Her hair was in knots, her skin an unnatural shade of green, her eyes bloodshot. And there, hanging from her fingertips was none other than the doll the man had just been inspecting. She still had on the same blue gown from the day she went missing, except now it was torn and covered in filth. The man's eyes widened at the sight of her, his palms beginning to sweat. Scarlet stared at him for a moment, the doll swinging against her hip before speaking barely above a whisper, "You'll enjoy the quiet. They'll all enjoy the quiet."
The man was reported missing three days later as his umbrella was found outside of the Mulberry Street's oldest house. Officers searched the house for any sign of the man, but he was no longer there. The only sign that he'd ever been there in the first place was his fingerprints on the basement door. Police searched and searched but soon realized the man was gone for good. The other residents of Mulberry Street quickly evacuated as word of the missing man's fingerprints at the strange house caught the ears of those nearby.
Years went by as the haunted house of Mulberry Street remained untouched, until one young boy and his parents moved into the house across the street. The boy had never heard the stories of Scarlet or the man who had disappeared inside the house, he had just moved to the small town from someplace far away where the news had never reached. The boy was unaware of the dangers of Mulberry Street and the house that ruined the lives of many. All he knew was that the house was a place to seek out solitude, a house where he could go to be alone, a house that would finally let him enjoy the...quiet.
