Here's a really short story about an old house ...
A creak reverberated through the old, ramshackle
bungalow, as Frank and Justin opened its door as stealthily as mice. Rumours
that this house was haunted was rife in the neighbourhood. Stories of a
murderer’s restless soul unrelentingly plotting to kill any resident dwelling
in this house had caught the boys’ attention. They decided to prove this rumour
to be ludicrous.
Crossing the dusty floor of the huge living room, the
boys crept into a nearby vacant room. Frank’s hair stood on end. The room was
cluttered with broken pottery. Old, silvery cobwebs, big and small, hung
precariously from an old chandelier, stretching down to reach the cabinet and
oakwood table beneath it. On the table … lay a bloodstained knife. Utterly
shocked, the boys’ initial bravado vanished without a single trace. At that
juncture, a low menacing voice echoed through the house, “It seems like you do
not believe in the rumours, my little ones!” With pale-looking faces, both
Frank’s and Justin’s mouths opened and closed like goldfish, unable to put
together any words. After a deliberate pause, the unknown voice hissed, “Shall
we proceed with the killing, my dear little ones?” On seeing the bloodstained
knife rise on its own accord and glide towards them, Frank promptly regained
his composure and whispered urgently to Justin, “Let’s get out of here!”
Together, the boys took to their heels from the dark bungalow and fled, all the
while accompanied by devilish strains of laughter trailing behind their frantic
footsteps.
How did you find this?
See you another time soon!
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