The house high on the hill was eerie and looked as if it was blowing with the wind. I walked nervously up the front steps. They creaked underneath me. I opened the door and peered inside… pitch blackness. I took another step. Then I was swallowed by darkness. Somewhere behind me I heard the door slam shut. I tried not to panic. I tugged on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. My palms were sweaty, and I felt a chill down my spine. I took a deep breath… and surged into the black.
After about five minutes a light popped on. It was a dusty candle. Someone down the hall was holding it. Then I took a closer look. Nobody was holding the candle. I tried to scream at the top of my lungs, but nothing came out. I bolted back down the hallway. It seemed to go on forever.
Finally, I stopped to catch my breath. I passed a mantle covered in cobwebs and a table on which was a spilled glass of what I hoped was punch. I wandered around for what seemed like hours until I found an exit. I burst outside. As soon as my foot made contact with the ground, it started to pour.
I thought, “Just great. This is shaping out to be the worst Halloween EVER!” With that I sloshed home. The moral of this story is, don’t come home on Halloween soaking wet, saying you went to a haunted house when you were supposed to be taking your little sister trick or treating.
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