Sinister

Chapter-2

The house loomed at the corner of the street, far from the city, with its black-painted walls and enormous windows that seemed to stare back at us.

"Are we really going to stay here?" I asked, my voice echoing slightly as I gazed up at the imposing structure.

"Don't you like it?" Mom replied, her excitement barely contained. She seemed thrilled about the new house, but I missed our old home. Brad leapt out of the car, sprinting towards the front door, his small frame dwarfed by the massive structure. He fumbled with the keys, finally getting the door open and disappearing inside.

"Let's go in too," Mom said, her eyes shining as she followed Brad. I hesitated, watching the door slowly creak shut behind her, the sound eerily similar to a moan. The front yard was overgrown, filled with dead flowers and plants, a testament to years of neglect. "Great, that's going to be my chore," I muttered. Did the previous occupants ever care for this place? How long had it been empty?

"How old is this house, anyway?" I kicked a few dead leaves aside as I reluctantly followed them inside. The door groaned in protest as I pushed it open, and the floorboards creaked ominously beneath my feet.

"How old is this house?" I exclaimed.

"Everything creaks!" The floor felt ancient, and the walls were rough and ragged, covered in peeling wallpaper. Boxes were scattered everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house as Mom and Brad explored the rooms.

"Brooke!" Mom called out. "Have you found your room?"

"I just walked in!" I replied.

"Well, don't just stand there. Go check it out. Oh, come here, Brad sweetie, let's see your new playroom," she said, rushing off with Brad bouncing along beside her. I cringed a little at her excitement; I was more used to her serious, no-nonsense demeanour. As I climbed the creaky stairs, Brad nearly barreled into me.

"Hey! Watch it, you little brat!" I yelled, swatting the top of his head. He rubbed his head, sticking his tongue out at me before darting off again. The walls were adorned with old, discoloured paintings and frames, some of them in ruins. I carefully took one down, examining it closely. It depicted a little girl holding a basket filled with what looked like wool. It might have been beautiful once, but now it was just faded and sad.

"Brooke!" Mom's voice made me jump. She was standing right behind me. "Go check out your room. I'm ordering lunch. What do you want?"

"I'm fine with anything," I replied, hastily putting the painting back and dusting off my hands.

"Okay. Just make sure Brad doesn't get into any trouble. Keep an eye on him," she said, already dialling her phone. My room was spacious, with only one window and a small vent. New curtains hung neatly, and my bed and belongings were already set up. Mom must have hired someone to do it. I sat on the bed, enjoying its softness.

"I like this room," I thought. It was much bigger than my old one. "I wonder how the rest of the house looks." I jumped up, eager to explore. "Time to check it out!"

First, I peeked into Mom's room next door. It was slightly larger, as expected. Parents always get the best room. A photo of us with Dad sat on her bedside table. "Why does she keep this?" I muttered. I hated that picture-I looked terrible. There were better ones of us with Dad. I placed it face-down before leaving.

Brad's room was smaller but crammed with his toys and tanks, including the large stuffed bear Aunt Mary gave him last year. A long mirror stood next to the bear, tall enough to see my whole body. "Why is this mirror in Brad's room? It should be in mine."