I looked at the house in disbelief, never had I seen such a wreckage. It seemed as though the house was looking upon the children with frustration. I walked closer and touched the paint work, it was rough, it scraped skin from my hand, like claws scraping meat from bone. I quickly grabbed my hand back, It was bleeding, I held it and cursed at the pain. The air became cold, the lights in the window behind me flickered off and I could hear the sound of metal scraping on metal, as a door swung open on its hinges. Unexpectedly I was grabbed. An old man with greying hair and bright green eyes glared a me.
"You dare to touch my house?!" He yelled at me in a raspy voice, spitting on me in the process.
"I-I-I'm sorry..." I didn't know what was happening, it was all so quick from that point. I was dropped on the floor, kicked in the ribs and dragged into the creepy, seemingly alive house. Soon my 'kidnapper' let go of his tight grip on my legs. I opened my eyes ,which I had squinted to stop my self from crying like a baby, and I saw not the old man but in fact a much younger version of him, brown hair, green eyes. I supposed this the kidnapper's son. I attempted to stand, but I fell straight back to my spot on the floor. My feet were dead. But i could feel random parts of me suddenly dying. First my hands, then my legs, my head was next and it carried on like that for around 3 minutes, until I felt my heart stop beating... I was dead, yet somehow I was being kept conscious, but why?
