A place in my
hometown is horrible to me. There is a house without living anyone. I went in
that house when I was ten years old. I persuaded them to go with me because I
wanted to see what is inside the house. It was raining on that day and we went
into the house at night. I was grabbing my friends’ clothes when I went into
the house. There was no light inside the house so my friends turned on the
flashlight and continued investigating the house. There were three floors
inside the house and all the furniture was old. The house was European style
that made me feel horrible. My friends said that this style of house was easily
to see the ghost. I was scared because I had not seen the ghost before. When I
went up stairs to the second floor, the stairs were shaking. My friends were scared too and we all
walked up stairs lightly. The stairs sound like the horror movie’s sound
effect.
While we were on the second floor, one of my
friends told me someone died on this floor twenty years ago. I walked slowly
because I did not want to see that person’s soul. The windows of the floor were
closed suddenly, we all screamed at the same time. I could feel the strong wind
tried to blow the house down, then I called my friends to run away from the
house. When we ran to a safe place, we could see the house was collapsed. The
house was a dangerous place that every adult did not allow kids to go. I was
frightened when I saw the house falling down in front of me. I thought if we
did not get out of the house early, maybe we would die in the house. I felt
guilty that I brought my friends to this dangerous place. We were luck that did
not hurt in this investigation.
I do not go to the ghost house in the
playground because I don’t want to bring up the horrible event from my mind. I still feel guilty to my friends now because I convinced them to go there and had a horrible memory in their minds. The place where I describe is not so horrible to everyone but it is horrible to me.