Agatha’s House
Grey bare walls,
Raindrops on the floor,
Helplessly, the dry leaves fall,
And the sand lies before,
The house sits empty,
With no other homes in sight,
Maybe filled with memories too solid to bury,
For it moans alone in the darkest part of the night,
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I pushed past the cranky old door,
Once inside, the air around me becomes so cold,
The perfect image of nothingness,
The house must be very old,
I sense something moving to and fro,
I feel impalpable impressions on the air,
I hear howling sounds as the wind blows,
Slowly filling the atmosphere, everywhere,
The floorboards creak as I try to turn,
Only then do I notice the writings on the floor,
"Agatha’s House" I read out loud,
It seemed to have been written with much less vigour,
Suddenly somewhere, a bat shrieks,
Upstairs, I hear a loud shout,
My only candle starts to gutter,
The candle flickers and finally goes out
Cobwebs grab me as I tried to run,
Ignoring them I hurriedly reached for the cranky old door,
I certainly wasn't having any fun,
So I ran as I have never before,
Racing out into the cloudy dark night,
I think as it starts to rain,
"More than a deserted house"I said, panting with so much fright
"But whatever it is,I'm not going in there again"
-Vickie
