A night in a ghost house!
Creak! I pushed the rusty door open. I stared inside the house. The hallway was draped with cobwebs and spiders crawled all over the peeling wall paper. Eyes peeped out from the corners and bats flew over head. The dusty pictures of dukes and duchesses seemed to stare at me with their penetrating eyes.
Slowly, I crept inside. Slam! I jumped. Then I realized it was only the door. I came to the end of the creepy hallway, where it split into 3 ways. I went to the left. It was only a short way to the end of the corridor. A spiraling staircase reached right up to the very top of the house. I started to climb. After a long time I reached the top. A single door stood on its rusty hinges. Cautiously, I turned the handle. The door opened to reveal a tatty four poster bed, standing in the middle of a dusty bedroom. I dumped my bag on the bed.
“I’m hungry.” I thought. I went down the stairs again, in search of a kitchen. I came to the 3 passageways. This time I took the middle one. As I trudged through the winding hallway, I began to wonder if it led anywhere. Finally I came to an archway. I passed under it and found myself in the small kitchen. I looked around for any food. None. I decided to go down to the larder. I saw a door next to the stove, so I went over and opened it. I started to descend down the long staircase. When I reached the bottom, found myself in the shadow of a huge pantry. “There must be loads of food in there,” I thought. Cautiously, I opened the pantry.
Yaaaah! A giant skeleton fell out and collapsed on top of me. I screamed in horror. Why was that skeleton there? Well it is a haunted house after all, but something seemed strange. In the back of the pantry a painting hung on the wall. The eyes didn't bore into me like the other paintings I had seen in the hallway. They were nice eyes. “ Who are you?” I wondered aloud. “and where did this skeleton come from?”
“ I am Duke Pentapenta.” an eerie voice said. I jumped suddenly realizing that it was coming from the painting.
“W w what?” I stammered.
“ I’m duke Pentapenta,” the painting repeated. “ and that is my son’s skeleton. I shall tell you my story...
Well, one stormy night, in this house my boy was murdered. It was all so fast. Someone crept into the house and killed him just like that. There was a shrill scream and I raced upstairs just in time to see my son’s limp body thud to the floor. A dark figure swept out the window just as I arrived in the room. After that I put his body in this cupboard along with a picture of me. When I died my spirit went to this painting, so that is why I can talk. That is my story.”
“That is so sad!” I said when he finished.
“ There is another reason I am sad. This house seems so lonely. I want it to be lively, like when I was alive.”
“Well, I might be able to do that for you!” I replied. “I could turn this into a haunted house theme park!”
“That would be great!” The duke exclaimed. I rang up the council to ask them. They said yes! The next week was spent getting the house ready. Some fake ghosts and skeletons were put in hiding spots around the house and a sign went up in the front yard advertising “A Haunted House!” It was a big hit! Loads of people came from all over the place. Duke Pentapenta told his story to anyone who opened the pantry doors. It was the best haunted house in history!