The only sound on Bleaker street was that of the leaves scratching the cold pavement.
Two boys stood in front of a dark house, with white paint peeling off of it.
“Ring the doorbell,” whispered the fair haired boy.
“No way! You do it,” replied the other one.
The fair hair boy stood on his tip toes to reach the bell. When he was two inches away he withdrew from his position in fear.
“I can’t do it,” he said.
His friend sighed and looked at the tiny doorbell. “Fine, I will do it,” he said as he cautiously walked closer to the door. As his fingers pressed the button, a loud shriek howled from within the house.
The boys fled in pure horror.

Inside, a tall figure slammed the dirty window shut.
“It looks like they ran away again,” he said. “It’s really too bad. For a moment I thought they weren’t going to press the trigger.”
He turned around to face a dead woman sitting in an electrical chair. He unstrapped her body and tossed her to the floor.
“It’s a shame they had to kill you.”