yes yes I know, terrible grammer, would make your english teacher cry. go ahead and corect it, just a rough draft. yes I also know it ends at a bad spot, but if it is too long, then people just skip over. hope you enjoy!
The wind was blowing at a strength that a hurricane would be proud of.
Jessica’s hair was pulled into a pony tail and still it was trying to escape.
She was skipping lunch to come here, Aunt Rosemary would not be happy to found this out. Her aunt brought the house so she could fix it and sell it again. Jessica thought that the house was an excellent place just the way it was. An old Victorian house sure needed some repairs but that’s all. Besides, this house had a story.
Some of the kids in her classes had told her the tale of the death of Dolores Limperly. It had stated like any other story, “It was a dark and stormy night.” A girl named tiffany had stated, “her parents had been throwing a party. She was sent up to her room as not to disturb the guests. After the night was done her parents had gone up to her room to say good night, they found her body slouched on the floor, a knife in her back.” They looked at her hoping she would be scared, but the opposite was true. Jessica loved murder mysteries. To find out how somebody died, that was an adventure and this new town, was going to be the greatest adventure yet. She remembered trying to get more information on the murder, but like they always did when she came to a new town, took her for a lunatic.
“Well I know there’s not much wrong with me.” She said this aloud, and then realized that she was talking to herself. “So, I’m a little crazy that’s all. I mean everybody is a little wi…” she had reached the front door and as she looked up was dumb struck. The door was old and tarnished. The old fashion knocker was made of silver and had an engraving on it. letum prope her Latin wasn’t perfect but she made out that death was near. Oh what a friendly welcome. She thought to herself. She slung her backpack off her shoulder and started to dig for the key she had snatched off her aunt’s desk. It was old and rusty, but fit the lock and turned easily. The door swung open on squeaky hinges. She took out her flashlight and shown it around herself.
She saw many old things all covered in dust and cobwebs. She walked through the rooms examining each one before going up the stairs. According to all the stories she had heard Dolores’s room would be the one furthest to the back. She tried some of the doors, but most were locked. It occurred to her that if
