The Window Girl Who Still Haunts Me

Growing Up with Scary Stories

When I was young, I loved scary stories. I couldn’t get enough of them — the whispered tales at night, the way friends would try to out-scare each other, the mix of laughter and fear when someone jumped at the perfect moment. Most of those stories I’ve forgotten with time, but there’s one that still lingers in the back of my mind. Even now, years later, it creeps me out just thinking about it.

It’s a story I heard from friends, passed along like a piece of playground folklore. The details may have shifted over time, but the image at its heart has never left me: a girl in a window, smiling.

The Window Girl

There was once a boy who walked the same path every day, usually on his way to school. On that path stood an old house.

And every single day, without fail, a girl could be seen on the second floor, resting her face on her hands, smiling out the window.

Her head would tilt side to side, a slow, eerie sway — almost like she was humming a song only she could hear. The boy noticed her but paid her no mind. Day after day, she was always there, smiling.

Until one day, he couldn’t resist. Maybe curiosity got the better of him. Maybe he felt she was waiting for him all along. So he slowed down. He looked at her. He waved.

And she smiled wider.

In that instant, he realized: he couldn’t see her body because of how dark her room was.

Her head and arms suddenly burst from the window, flying straight at him with a sickening rush of air. The head sailed forward, hair streaming behind it, hands clawing ahead as if to seize him. He had only a second to see that smile up close — wide, fixed, and unnatural — before everything went black.

Why It Stuck With Me

It’s not the most elaborate story, but maybe that’s why it’s so effective. It’s short, simple, and ends with a jolt — just the right kind of tale for kids daring each other to stay up late and listen.

What unsettled me wasn’t just the flying head. It was the routine of it. The boy passing by every day. The girl always there, always smiling. The quiet creepiness of something familiar suddenly breaking into horror.

A Cultural Note

Looking back, I’ve learned that stories like this have deep roots in Korean folklore. Ghosts at windows, beckoning or smiling, are common motifs — especially cheonyeo gwishin (처녀귀신), the “virgin ghosts” of young women who died tragically. They appear in doorways, by rivers, or in windows, often waiting for someone to acknowledge them.

Sometimes they’re just eerie presences. Other times, like the story I heard, they’re more aggressive, their faces or bodies contorting in unnatural ways. There’s even a long tradition of ghost stories where the head or upper body appears detached — a theme shared across Asian folklore.

Why I Still Think About It

Out of all the scary stories I grew up with, “the window girl” is the one that’s never left me. Maybe because it was simple. Maybe because I can still picture it so clearly: that smiling face, resting on her hands, tilting side to side.