(focus on developing plot creating tension and building up interest)
I stood on the sharp gravel path leading up to the house. The rusted, once grand, gate swing airily behind me. My head is trying to steer me away. I felt as though I was meant to come to this house.
The garden was seriously overgrown, stacked to the brim with dead wrangly flowers. I fragilely amble up to the French windows and peer inside. I get a strange chilling feeling as I gaze inside the crude lifeless room. I make my way over towards the dark dingy doorway. The door handle is in the shape of an eye. It is cool and damp as I place my hand on it. Before I make my way inside I take another glance around the garden that looks like a barren wasteland off the Lion King. I turn the handle and scamper inside. The wallpaper is cracked and falling to pieces off the walls. The stairs going up to the next level look as though they will crumble any second, yet I still retreat up the stairs. As they creak they send echoes howling through my ears and around the house.
By Daranee Bolger
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