by fragmentedspeech

It was Halloween night; it was pouring outside; the rain hit the blacktop in a cacophonous symphony of molecular collision. Leif and I were drenched; staring at the old house at the end of the cul-de-sac with the wooden planks older than you, so it was called. At a glance, if silhouetted by a full moon and it was, it appeared as an ancient witch cult’s monolith. This worshiping ground was always there with its waterlogged shingles and mossy planks. It’s porch was the essence of precarious. Leif went ahead of me and wondered around the front porch as he usually would. I followed.

I cautiously proceeded up each step in the unremorseful harsh noise of the rain until I came face to face with the old green door. I reached for the chipped crystalline doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked.

I walked in and Leif followed me. The first step was the loudest, pushing upon the screaming wooden floor boards. It was the classic idea of an expensive two story house.