I heard a scream sound above me
Silence: slowly I looked up at the neglected old house, a nice smell assaulted my nostrils.
I was curious as to how I got there.
I could not remember.
I took a quick step towards the rusted metal gate, brushing my fingertips lightly over the rough edges.
I was now impatient, wanting to get closer to the derelict house and the mouth-watering scent that tantalized me.
Not even knowing how I got there, I was soon standing in front of the eerie house, my alabaster hand outstretched.
My hand fell limply to my side: I didn’t know what to do.
Cautiously, I walked up the stone steps and stood in front of the wooden door; the black paint peeled away at the edges, through months of neglect and storms.
Hesitantly, I placed my hand upon the door.
I pushed on it lightly: it didn’t open.
My eager hands placed themselves on the fragile wooden door (the inky paint contrasted strangely with my ivory skin) and I pushed with all my force.
The foreboding door fell to the floor with a resounding crash.
A blood curdling shriek sounded somewhere above me.
I stepped into the house, my bare toes curling in protest from the cold stone floor and inquisitively, I titled my head towards the sound of the high-pitched screaming.
The shrill screaming stopped abruptly.
Frowning, I wondered why had it stopped?
I needed to find this anonymous person.
I looked towards the mysterious, majestic staircase twisting precipitously upwards and around into the enigmatic unknown.
I took three graceful steps towards the imposing stairway, readily sniffing the scent of the moist air around me.
I had to get a taste of that glorious smell.
Darting up the luxuriously carpeted staircase, I came to an immediate halt on the top stair.
The gloomy landing was sinister looking, creaming out to all that it should not be entered: it should remain untouched.
The enticing scent was now thick in the air around me, taunting me.
Pushing on the blistered wooden door, I crouched defensively, ready to protect myself (if it was needed).