The Old House

There is a witch that lives in that house, I verbalise as we walked by the old house on Exm outh St.

Do you very specify so? Randy asked.

Yup. It has to be. Who else would live in a house alike that? The house was old and make of rotting wood, which the paint had peeled off of long ago. The windows were dirty, and 1 could barely see the old tattered curtains that hung in the windows. The handrail going up the steps to the front door was move off, and the grass was three feet high. There was an old rickety pathfinder fence that surrounded the property. The place reminded me of a smaller variance of the house I saw in Alfred Hitchcocks Psycho.

What do you think the witch looks like? Randy asked.

I think she looks like the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz. I replied.

Lets get out of here, he laughed.

Ok, I replied. We left and continued down the course discussing what we had just seen.

After school the next day, Randy and I went back end to see the house. We walked down Christina St. and then turned the corner onto Exmouth St. As we approached the house, we heard a door close.

You see Michael, somebody really is living there, Randy said softly.

It was kind of scary because veritable(a) though we imagined a witch living there, we didnt really guess it. It was just the imagination of two young boys running wild. instanter we knew someone actually lived there. We picked up the pace and walked quickly by the house. I took a quick glance out of the place of my eyes and noticed a light on in the back window. I could feel my heart starting to race. Randy...

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