The Haunted house

In class for writing we are working on using short sentances and long sentances.

This story is carried on from a charles dickens short story.

I wandered towards the front door,the plants snatching,grabbing and scratching at my knees,the red paint on the door was peeling so badly,you wouldn’t even know it was painted,the door knob was golden with long scratch marks smothered all over it,I turned the knob halfway and it clicked straight away.

  Instantly a musty,stale sort of smell  smacked me in the face,making me stumble back towards the door,I grimaced as I looked around,ants,everywhere,crawling up the yellow/green wallpaper,sitting on the yellow stained fridge,running up the sticky oven. The floorboards creaked and squealed as I took every step,making me shiver at the very sound,I looked around,the couches looked like a moths punchbag and the coffee table had one leg missing and dead fly carcasses scattered all over it.

 I walked towards the rickety stairs,regret now settling in and releasing several stairs were missing. I hopped and skipped my way up,trying not to fall in the process. I managed my way to the top,wishing I could just run out of this house,far,far away,I walked towards the nearest door that had a red and black skull on it. I turned the black door knob but it wasn’t budging,I pulled the door and pushed flinging my whole body towards the door.

 The door flung open and I stumbled,slightly rolling forward.I gave a silent scream. A doll. Eyes open.Walking towards me.Pale faced.Mouth hanging open.I wanted to move but my legs were glued in place.I wanted to scream,but sound didn’t come. I wanted to go downstairs and call the police,but I couldn’t talk or walk. As if the doll had cursed me,the ground was coming into view and soon I was flat on my face, out cold.