It was more like a shack than a house; as I approached the house the wind seemed to bang the shutters closed. The door creaked open as I pushed inside. I could smell old perfume and rotting flesh, as if some animal had been dragged in and had died. The furniture was old fashioned and worn. I sat down, suddenly feeling very tired. The house was wearing me down, growing on me and almost making me feel heavy and old. The mantelpiece was crooked and looked bashed or dented. I slowly creaked up the stairs and found two doors. I pushed the first one open and stepped in. It was her bedroom, there was a small bed and dressing table. On the dressing table there was a photo. The photo had two people in it, both women; one was older, around forty and the other about eighteen. I thought one looked a lot like Mrs Drabalow but I couldn't put my finger on who the other girl was. I suddenly remembered why I was here and began searching for the will. I put my hand on the drawer to the dresser and pulled. The drawer was completely stuck, I banged on it and suddenly it slid open, throwing up a cloud of thick brown dust. I coughed, spluttering in the gloom. When the dust had cleared I saw a stack of papers wrapped up with some string. I pulled them out and unwrapped them. It was the will; I lifted it up but when I looked at it, it was completely blank apart from one line. "It's all for her." I suddenly heard a creaking noise from the room opposite and stuffed the letter into my pocket. I rushed into the other room and saw it, the message written on the wall: "It's all for her, for her, for her." It kept whizzing around in my mind. I didn't know what was going on but I didn't stay to find out. I tripped down the stairs and crashed to the ground. I got up and dashed past, bursting through the door at full speed.

I swore to myself that I would never go back there, back to the house.

Serenna (Year Eight)