We have lived in this house since I was born. It’s been passed through our family since the early 1920s. Our family has watched the neighborhood change various times throughout history. Only one other home still sits with it original bones besides our own, the house at the end of our street. I mean of course we have done modern renovations throughout time, but the skeleton of the house is still very strong. The house at the end of the street, we like to call “The Dead End”, hasn’t been touched since I can remember. My grandmother says it’s been withering away since she was a child. The outside is falling apart, nothing will grown in or around the year, and you can smell it from the sidewalk.

Now of course my friends and my own curiosity has gotten the best of us. We have decided to explore the house tonight.

We sneak out around eight o’clock. We rush down the street before any adults see us and tell our parents. As we reach the front yard, we slow our pace as we approach the front door. The scent of moldy clothes and rotted food begins to fill our noses. We carefully turn the knob and slowly walk in. We are some completely taken aback by the state of the inside of the house , we don’t even jump and the slamming door right behind us. We are glaring at what seems to be a perfectly preserved 1920s grand home. It even smells like roses, and my grandmother’s favorite perfume.

When we finally snap out of our daze, we scramble for the door, and to no surprise… it is locked. We are trapped.