Ever since she was little Elle was curious about the house next door. There were no signs of life, or care for the magnificent house. It stood tall, he windows smashed, the garden chaotically over grown and the iron gates, orange due to years of rust. The house was abandoned, dilapidated and left there to crumble under its age slowly, painfully.
Elle was suddenly awoken from her troubled sleep by a noise so loud, so high pitched, it hurt her ears. That was the last straw. She crept out of her bed, put on some black jeans and a black winter coat and braced herself for the cold winter winds of outside. The wind whipped her hair viciously against her face, the sharp coldness makeimg her hairs stand on end and millions of tiny goosebumps surface on her porcelain skin. She reached the rusty iron gates of the house next door, took a deep breath and pulled the gate. As she pulled hard at the stiff gate it began to screech like nails down a blackboard. She stepped into the overgrown garden and made her way to the grand oak front door. The brass knocker looked intricate and unloved. She pushed at the heavy door. She stepped inside the house. As she looked around, taking all the sights the house had to offer in, he door shut with a bang. Trapped, no going back now.