Chapter 1 of The Haunted House On Brookshire Lane
The doors creaked open and the smell of dead animal poisoned the air. Hanna and I gasped for air, pulled up our shirts to cover our noses and dove into the creaky, old, and abandoned house.
The first thing we saw was an old, grand staircase probably leading up to the second and third levels of the house, but I wasn’t brave enough to figure that out, yet. I listened to the door slightly ease back into it’s closed position. Instead of letting the door close and lock us in, I placed my jacket between the door and the door-frame to keep it from trapping us in the Haunted House of Brookshire Lane. I watched as Hanna glanced back at my silver Volvo in the driveway. I grabbed her arm and urged her towards the family room. The first thing we saw was an old and dusty rocking chair. It looked as if it hadn’t been sat on in decades. I swiped my hand over the seat of it and removed a layer of thick dust. After I examined the rocking chair, a bookshelf caught my eye. I was hoping it would have a scrapbook or passport booklet in it so I could find out who lived in this house last. Fortunately, I found an old, dusty, and moldy scrapbook. I opened it to the first page and saw one of those “this book belongs to ……” papers. It was filled out completely, the information read, My name is- Isabella Mankin-Litle ,year 1926 , My address is-126 Brookshire Lane. Hanna skipped over to me annd read over my should, then said,
“Score! Alli! You did it! Now, we can find out why this house is haunted. We know who used to live here!”
“I know! Do you have your IPhone? I can search this Isabella Mankin-Litle on Google!” I replied,
“Yeah, it’s right here.”
I grabbed the phone from her and searched Isabella Mankin-Litle. I found a few results, one article said, “The number 26, must be a cursed number in her family, her father died on Sept. 26, her fiancee died on his 26th birthday, and she died by falling down the staircase in her home, which has 26 wooden steps.” I immediately ran to the staircase and counted the stairs. Exactly 26 wooden steps.
“Hanna,” I called, “I have to show you something!” After she came, I read her the article and counted the steps.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Tomorrow is the 26th… we cannot, I repeat, cannot come back here tomorrow.”
“Hanna! We have to!”
“We have to what? Try and not get killed in this death trap? I am not coming to this house tomorrow!”
“Fine. I’ll just get Adam to come with me.”
The first thing we saw was an old, grand staircase probably leading up to the second and third levels of the house, but I wasn’t brave enough to figure that out, yet. I listened to the door slightly ease back into it’s closed position. Instead of letting the door close and lock us in, I placed my jacket between the door and the door-frame to keep it from trapping us in the Haunted House of Brookshire Lane. I watched as Hanna glanced back at my silver Volvo in the driveway. I grabbed her arm and urged her towards the family room. The first thing we saw was an old and dusty rocking chair. It looked as if it hadn’t been sat on in decades. I swiped my hand over the seat of it and removed a layer of thick dust. After I examined the rocking chair, a bookshelf caught my eye. I was hoping it would have a scrapbook or passport booklet in it so I could find out who lived in this house last. Fortunately, I found an old, dusty, and moldy scrapbook. I opened it to the first page and saw one of those “this book belongs to ……” papers. It was filled out completely, the information read, My name is- Isabella Mankin-Litle ,year 1926 , My address is-126 Brookshire Lane. Hanna skipped over to me annd read over my should, then said,
“Score! Alli! You did it! Now, we can find out why this house is haunted. We know who used to live here!”
“I know! Do you have your IPhone? I can search this Isabella Mankin-Litle on Google!” I replied,
“Yeah, it’s right here.”
I grabbed the phone from her and searched Isabella Mankin-Litle. I found a few results, one article said, “The number 26, must be a cursed number in her family, her father died on Sept. 26, her fiancee died on his 26th birthday, and she died by falling down the staircase in her home, which has 26 wooden steps.” I immediately ran to the staircase and counted the stairs. Exactly 26 wooden steps.
“Hanna,” I called, “I have to show you something!” After she came, I read her the article and counted the steps.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Tomorrow is the 26th… we cannot, I repeat, cannot come back here tomorrow.”
“Hanna! We have to!”
“We have to what? Try and not get killed in this death trap? I am not coming to this house tomorrow!”
“Fine. I’ll just get Adam to come with me.”
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