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Short story: A haunted house

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By Nia Lobo

The grim and rusty house downtown was covered with moss climbing up its walls. Its creaks echoed through the halls and the house wept and howled every windy night, rattled and crackled during the snow. It was abandoned, feared, ignored and solitary for far too long. But, now it has been infused with life and buzz for Halloween. A spooky and spine chilling home was perfect for any witch.

Now, glowing with neon green from the unappealing roof, it stood unreliable and weak against the winter breeze. The lines of guests seemed to have no end for an old, crusty home. The inside was illuminated with a scarlet red, the interior of the house was breathtaking. The natural cross ventilation allowed the guests to feel the sharp, crisp needles of the young night.

The ballistic yells of glee echoed through its halls, but one climbed up the stairs, the deafening screams seemed to fade away. Upstairs, the strong smell of lavender hit the nose, candles radiated a warm orange within the rooms.

As one made their way along the deck, the atmosphere was cold, mysterious, and lonely. Unseen or touched by the rest of the world, the deck sparkled turquoise blue under the moonlit sky. The isolated deck that night was consumed by darkness, allowing one to set sight upon the billion shimmering jewels in the sky. The pleasant calming blue with the crisp winter air and wafts of lavender added a little haven in the haunted house.

However, the moment of awe could only deceive its guests for some time. Soft footsteps paired with muffled voices could be heard from downstairs clacking against the cold amber wood. The wafts of lavender seemed to be mixed with the chalky aroma of cigarettes rising from the floor below. Its beauty unveiled a shudder of danger and calmed the guests. The little haven hid behind its pretty face, whispers and tones of death. A perfect haunted house, it truly was.

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