p style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt;"Mary slowly entered the old rickety house. Her friends had told her they would be waiting for her, but they were not there. She heard a scream in the basement and jumped. She saw a lot of cobwebs and spiders and shivered. She saw something out of place, in the old spook house. There was a little table cleared of dust, with cables hanging down. Mary slowly walked towards it, making no noise. She knelt down beside it and saw a microphone receiver under the table. Mary followed the cable and it went into the basement. Mary had a marvellous idea. She opened the door and spook the bats hanging in the rafters. The bats flew into the basement. Mary ran and slammed the delipidated door shut on the people that were screaming inside. They hammered on the door and Mary suddenly swung the door open and her friends stood there dazed by the sudden light. They left the spook house together, laughing and joking. Never noticing the strange old lady sitting on the roof stroking her cat. Nor the dark eyed ghost softly singing country songs on the lounge, watching the old flickering television. They left the house thinking that there was nothing out of place. Until they heard the earth-shattering explosion that blew up the house. They turned looking at each other and ran, chased by transparent police and dogs. They would laugh about it later, saying they were silly and that their imaginations had got the better of them. They talked and told stories about it until they were old grandparents in wheel-chairs. The old, spooky, haunted house on the end of Mackworth Avenue. On the end of the main road. With its secrets that would stay there untold and secret, forever./p
