The Haunted House

A window creaked open. Alex nervously pushed open the door of 1448 Washington Lane. Wind howled through the cracked window panes.

“Whoo! Go Alex!”

His friends cheered him from behind. This was all a dare that the boys from Hardwill School did every year. A random person would be chosen to sneak into the haunted house that no one ever went near.

Alex anxiously stepped into the house. His classmate’s yells died down as they waited to see what would happen. The house was completely deserted. No furniture, no anything. Just a one–story house with some old wooden floorboards that shifted underneath your foot. A couple of finches were nested in the upper right corner of what seemed to be the kitchen, based on the many cabinets and the counter.

It wasn’t that creepy. Alex grew more comfortable as he walked around the house. Warm, golden light leaked in through the window. It seemed… almost peaceful. It wasn’t haunted. It just lacked beauty. Alex fingered the old wall. Bits of plaster and dust crumbled down, revealing a thin wallpaper with a sunflower pattern on it.

“With a bit of renovation,” Alex mused to himself, evaluating what the house would look like after it was restored.

Alex ran to the door and out to his classmates.

They whooped and yelled, “He’s back! How was it? Did you see a ghost?”

”No,” Alex said, “it’s better.”

His classmates leaned forward, expecting a creepy, action–packed story.

”This house is not haunted. That’s just what people think. It’s a myth. The old owners left it in a ruined condition, but with a bit of renovation, it could be beautiful!”

”That’s literally the story of don’t judge a book by its cover,” somebody yelled in the crowd.

“Exactly. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”