She stares up at the abandoned home. It has been awhile since the family moved away. Her memories of them where vague. She was too young to really remember, but she knew what had happened there. Everyone knew the story.
An older couple had lived there with their son, a very handsome boy that they treasured. He was their only child after all. He was close to eighteen when he disapeared.
She remembered seeing his picture on the dedication plaque in the school hallway. It had always seemed morbid to her, having that picture just staring at them everyday. The boy that was never found.
She felt the cold hands of one of the other girls push her toward the little front porch, that in the dark looked slanted at an odd angle giving it a more creepy vibe.
She was begining to regret choosing dare in their game, but if she backed down now her friends would never let her live it down. She took in a big lung full of cold night air before continuing on her own.
She approached the door slowly, reaching her hand out for the door nob. Her fingers brushed it first, feeling the icy cold metal before taking hold of it. She tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. Relief settled in her stomach as she realized it was locked.
Oh thank god, she thought, but her relief was short lived. As she was turning to leave the sound of the door squeaking open made her stomach sink and fear return.
As she stood there, her back to the door, she watched her friends back away with fear written all over their features. They where ready go, but a morbid curiosity bubbled up inside her, drowning out her previous fear as she turned back to the now open door.
The inside was cast in a mixture of heavy shadows and soft moon light. She stepped closer, ignoring the sounds of her friends' protests and peaked in.
It was too dark to really see anything except the vague shape of the stairs a few feet ahead of her and soft moon light coming from the rooms that sectioned off further down the short hallway.
She took a step inside, then another. Her friends protests quieted as she got further inside.
She approached the stairs, placing her hand on the faded wooden railing. Her fingers left a trail in the dust as she ran her hand down it.
She closed her eyes and imagined that handsome boy from the picture dragging his hand along that same wood as he hurried down the stairs. She imagined his smiling face, his pale skin dotted with soft freckles, and those pale blue eyes sparkling under his dark hair.
A loud thud startled her out of her thoughts. She spun around to face the door. Horrified, she stared at the now closed front door. It was oddly easy to spot in the dark, almost like it was glowing.
She rushed forward, grabbing hold of the door nob, but found it locked like before. She was about to bang on the door to get her friends' attention, but suddenly she felt the oddest sensation telling her to turn around.
And she did.
The girls outside bolted when the screaming began.
