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The walk from the beautiful Watts, Colonial mansion to the abandoned, derelict Sanderson abode had taken a much shorter time than Penny had expected. Now away from the covetous middle-schoolers scavenging for candy, the group of four stood before the dilapidated witches' cottage. Rotting timber formed the roof, decaying with mould and centuries of age and similarly decomposing wood formed a watermill, which was attached to the side of the house. Ivy and other dying climbing plants had imprisoned the house in its spindly clutches, their growth having been unhindered due to three-hundred years of neglect.
After forcing the gates open that had been padlocked shut with the closure of the museum, the three teenagers and Dani approached the house itself. As leader, Penny climbed the damp, rotting steps and was the first to reach the door. Removing a bobby pin from her ginger tresses and using the skills Daphne Blake had taught a young her on the TV, she managed to successfully jimmy the lock.
"Voila!" she exclaimed with delight, as the door creaked open.
"Impressive," Allison replied, brushing cobwebs aside, as she entered the house, the other three following behind her.
"Personally, I'd have just kicked the door down," Max commented with a smug look.
Dani scoffed. "I'd like to have seen you try."
"You'd have hurt your foot more than the door," Penny retorted, earning a small high-five from the youngest Dennison.
Dani appeared extremely nervous, causing Allison to search for a light switch and Penny to pull the young girl into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around Dani in a warm embrace and in return, she threw her arms around Penny's waist. While Allison had been searching for how to turn the light on, Max had discovered a lighter on the stand of museum gift paraphernalia. He had flicked it on, causing an orange flame to appear in his hand. Shifting uncomfortably in Penny's arms, Dani groaned. Meanwhile, Allison had managed to turn the light on, illuminating the room for all to see.
The group now took the opportunity to look around the inside of the Sanderson house. Cobwebs hung from every crevice of the house, and a thick layer of dust coated each surface like freshly fallen snow. Rusted cages hung from the ceiling - no doubt where the sisters entrapped children whose souls they would drain - and below was an array of empty cauldrons, onyx black surfaces marked by residue of ancient potions. There were some traces of modernity that had doubtlessly been added by the museum (such as a fire alarm, sprinklers and the small stand of souvenirs where Max had found the lighter), but the spiderwebs and filth had taken these victim too. Except for these additions, the house appeared to have been frozen in time. A perfect preservation from three centuries ago.
As Allison's family had been the ones to run the museum, she deemed it only proper to give a shortened version of a tour. "Here's the original cauldron. And upstairs is where they slept."
