Creaking in the wind, the rusty gate glinted slightly in the last rays of sunlight. As the sun finally went down, the darkness came down to cover everywhere and animals began to cautiously leave shelter. The old house stood proudly on the hill, despite the dirt and rot covering it. The windows, smashed and cracked, their glass dusting the grass around, showed off the antique items inside. The massive door was opened a crack, and the bronze handles were dusty and filthy from time. It had not been inhabited for a while, which was obvious at its current state. It still managed to seem dignified, majestic even, despite what time and neglect had done to it.
Animals did not come near this place; it radiated a sense of unease and danger. The door stood imposing, staring down at any creature that dared to come through the gate. The girl did not know that. She did not feel the coldness wrapping around her as she slowly pushed the old gate and stepped inside the garden. She did not sense the tension in the air. She did not see the animals stopping to watch, looking on in fear. And she did not hear the creaking as a door was opened somewhere inside.
She did not notice any of this. So she carried on walking through the overgrown garden, heading towards the door. It was now shut. Reaching it, she stretched out a bare arm to push the rotting wood. It would not budge. She frowned, and put her other hand on the wood as well. She pushed again. It still would not move. The animals had crept closer to the edge of the garden, fearful but curious. What was this girl doing? Why had she come to the house? Did she not know its history?
She didn’t. She did not know about the house, she did not know why it was empty, why it had stayed empty. She didn’t know. So she carried on pushing against the door, using all her strength, trying to force it open. She was tired, about to give up, when it opened wide, and she fell through with a scream. She did not get back up, but the door closed. She did not come back out.