The Stanley House
Alice didn’t believe in ghosts. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself as she followed her giggling group of friends down the dark back alley that led to The Stanley House, their town’s one reputed haunted house.
As they approached the building, the moon suddenly came out from its shroud of clouds, shining on the austere facade of the house as if to spotlight their destination. The Stanley House had broken windows and a half caved-in roof, but it still managed to look elegant, even imposing, despite the fact that it was so damaged. Alice wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and steadied her grip on the flashlight.
The ringleader of the group, Gwen, suddenly stopped as she reached the main gate. She looked over her shoulder at Alice, who had fallen behind. “Not scared, are you, little Alice?” she cooed, her normally gorgeous face wraith-like in the moonlight.
“N-no…” Alice replied, hating herself for stuttering.
“Good,” Gwen replied. And then she pushed open the gate.