The Mysterious Gifts for Mr. Finch
Every evening, Samantha walked home from school, passing by the dark and silent house of her elderly neighbor, Mr. Finch. As the holiday season approached, every home on the street was decorated with lights and wreaths, except for his, which stood cold and lifeless. It felt sad, especially as she remembered how Mr. Finch used to wave at her each day and decorate his porch with handmade ornaments. But for the past few months, Mr. Finch had hardly been seen, and his house had an air of neglect and mystery.
Samantha decided she would bring some holiday cheer to his doorstep. Each night, when the streets were quiet, she would leave a small gift on his doorstep: first a cozy wool scarf, then a box of homemade cookies, and next, a tiny Christmas tree with little lights. She hoped it would lift his spirits, even if he didn’t respond.
On Christmas Eve, Samantha prepared her final gift—a handwritten card, where she poured her heart into wishing Mr. Finch peace and happiness. She left the card at his door just as snow began to fall, covering the ground in a soft white blanket. But as she turned to leave, she noticed something she had never seen before: a flickering light in Mr. Finch’s window, accompanied by the faintest shadow moving inside.
Curiosity gripped her, and she took a few steps forward to peer into the window. As she squinted, a chilling whisper reached her ears: “Why did you come back?” The voice was low and eerie, as if it were right beside her. Samantha froze, her heart racing as she looked up to see a dark silhouette by the window.
Fearful but unable to look away, she saw the shadowy figure raise a hand, as if reaching out to her. The voice came again, louder this time: “You shouldn’t have come here, Samantha.” How did it know her name?
Terrified, she turned and bolted home, her heart pounding as the snowy street blurred beneath her feet. She locked herself in her room, her mind racing with questions. Had Mr. Finch been watching her all along? Or was it something else in that house—something dark that she didn’t understand?
The next morning, Samantha woke up with a feeling of dread. She went to look outside, only to see police cars parked in front of Mr. Finch’s house. Her mother, seeing her worry, gently explained that Mr. Finch had passed away months ago, and the house had been empty ever since.
Samantha’s heart raced as she remembered the gifts she had left—the scarf, the cookies, the tiny tree. Who had been taking them? And who—or what—had whispered her name in that empty house?
Years passed, but the mystery of Mr. Finch’s house was never solved. Every Christmas Eve, Samantha would leave a single gift on his doorstep in memory of that night, hoping that wherever Mr. Finch was, he knew someone was thinking of him. But deep down, she always wondered: Was it really Mr. Finch who had watched her that night, or something far beyond explanation?
