The House Was Scary
The house was scary. Too scary. It was at the end of a long gravel path, the path that old Robby Blankins supposedly rode down in the old days. Ugly trees, black as loneliness, surrounded the house like old soldiers, ready to reach out their old tendrils at any trespasser who had the nerve of walking up to the front door– or what remained of it, anyways. The house was a wreck. There were old tree branches strewn all over the lawn, the cornfield out in the front was withering away, and the once white siding was chipping off like nail polish on a girl’s fingernail. The house used to be a nice place. Becky Miller remembered when her Mama would bake pies for the old woman who used to live there… what was her name? Oh, that’s right. Barbara White. She had died a couple of years ago from a devastating fire, or so they say…. Legend has it that Barbara White disappeared one night after bandits had raided her house, taking her with them. Either way, it seemed to Becky that once Barbara was gone, the house went up and died just like she did. That was why Becky wondered why she found herself at what once was the front door stoop of the house. Was it just out of pure curiosity, or was something else under that roof beckoning Becky closer…? All she knew was that she had to get into that house, no matter what dangers might be lurking behind that door….