The Haunted House

It was a perfect spring morning. Not too hot, not too cold. The grass glistened with dew and the birds chirped. When it happened, I was outside, playing football with my best friend, Robert.

“Let’s take a break,” I suggested. We sat on a nearby bench and enjoyed the sunlight.

“See that house over there?” Robert pointed to a house that was about six houses away from mine. “Well, let me tell you, I think it’s haunted.” I stared. It looked just like a normal house. Its roof was painted a bright and friendly shade of red and its windows glistened in the sun. The grass around it was green and well-cut.

“Where are all the ghosts, bats, and monsters?” I laughed. Robert made a face at me.

“Laugh all you want, but the owners of that house died 60 years ago, and nobody lives in it now. Occasionally, people want to move in, but they’re never heard from again,” Robert replied.

“But how can we know for sure it’s haunted?” I asked.

“Who cuts the grass, and cleans the windows? And wouldn’t a house need repairing or repainting after 60 years? It’s still in great condition!” I hadn’t thought of this. I was really starting to believe Robert when I realized there was no such thing as ghosts, and I was being silly. Before I could tell him this, Robert grinned and told me, “You still don’t look convinced. I dare you to go to the house and just ring the doorbell! I’ll believe you that it isn’t haunted if nothing happens!”

I shrugged. Ringing the doorbell of a house that nobody lives in isn’t serious, I thought. Robert has just watched too many horror movies. I stood up and jogged to the house and raised my hand to touch the doorbell. But, before I could, the door swung open.

“AAH!” I yelled, convinced that Robert was right! However, before I could run, my other friends, Timmy, John, and Sam came to the door and started laughing! Suddenly, I understood. It was all a joke. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to laugh or yell at my friends for almost giving me a heart attack, But I hadn’t understood one thing.

“Isn’t it wrong to go into a house that isn’t yours, even if it isn’t owned by anyone?”

Robert, who had come next to me, laughed. “I lied about that. My cousin owns it!” Suddenly, a hideous creature with huge fangs stained with blood, eyes glowing red with hatred, and a long, slender black body, about 8 feet tall, crept up behind us.