On 5th street where the trees are dead and only weeds grow. Stands a house with a bright red door. The only colourful and bright thing on that street.
The house is an old building out of the seventeenth century with broken windows. The porch swing's one chain is snapped in half so it hangs limply, swishing in the wind.
The floorboards creak with every step. At night you can hear screams echo through the halls. What was once a perfect home to raise a family is now a living nightmare.
