Descriptive Essay On The Abandoned House

On my way back from the grocery store there is a detour for road construction. I end up having to take a very dark back road. I see an abandoned insane asylum. The idea that has been fresh in my mind for some time comes to my head instantly. I pull up in front of the old building and think about how in my plan I want to create a haunted house to kill the people that who attend it looking for a good time and to display their dead bodies as part of the attraction yet unknown to them. That this will be the very place that I will create and finish my plan. There are multiple small trap rooms with creepy cages in the middle creating a haunted house for the public that is going to become my organized plan hoping that no mistakes come along to mess it up.

I’m just getting in the door, and I say to myself “oh course it has to be a two story house.” As I walk into the house I get shivers up my spine, and I know something is in the house I just don’t know what. As me being the curious one I know I have to keep going, and there I was standing in the doorway of a “haunted house.” I looked all through the living room, but I didn’t see anything. I was as scared as a jack-rabbit that had heard the howl of a wolf. I was just about to step on the first step, but I heard something run right past me. I turned around quicker than the speed of light, but then again nothing was there. I walked all the way up the stairs, and I started looking in the rooms. In the last room I checked I saw something crouched down in the corner.

It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.

“Hey” I yelled, running up to my friends. “Oh hello” my friends all said in unison. My friends consisted of Mary,riley,and Samantha we had all been friends for a while now and got along pretty well. “ So are you guys ready to go to the haunted house yet?” “No but I probably never will be so I guess I am” riley said a little too loudly. “Okay then let's go” Mary said with enthusiasm. So we went off walking towards the haunted house. We blended in pretty well with all the children trick-or-treating because we had all dressed up even though none of us were trick-or-treating. I was wearing a costume that made me look like a demon. Sam was a ballerina, mary was a unicorn, riley was an elf, but the type from lord of the rings.

When they walked through the doors of the haunted house in the graveyard, it had an instantly spooky aroma. The door itself was wooden and starting to rot away and fall from its hinges, although that kind of describes the whole house, falling apart. To the right there was a small staircase with ten or eleven steps leading upstairs and a doorway below them leading downstairs. There was old furniture scattered across the old house but it was all ripped up or broken. To the left of the room was a locked door that was still in perfect condition and was reinforced very well. Despite the attempts of two of the four members of their group of four teenagers, the door remained locked and closed. Going straight through the arch in front of them led to the dining room which is where the bad things began.

It was dark which made the haunted house setting just perfect. Outside of the entrance was a man in a scary pig mask with a blood splattered apron and in his hand was a shovel. I was so convincing that the man was a statue because of how still and how little noises he made. As people walked by he would step toward them and slam the shovel to the ground, and then step back into place. As my family and I walked by I was aware of his routine and wasn’t scared, but my brother almost peed on himself as we walked by to pay for the haunted house. As we got our money out to pay, my little brother and cousin had a tranchrium and started crying, because they didn't want to go in. The rest of us just discarded them as if we didn't know the and proceed into the haunted house. To get to where you start in the haunted house you had to go up some stairs, there was the manager told us we only had 10 minutes to get through the haunted maze. He started the timer and we went through the maze in less than 3 minutes. As we went through the maze we huddled together like penguins. My little cousins fell in the course of the maze, the rest of us didn't realize it until we heard their loud crying. Us being us ignored them and went through the rest of the maze. They came of a few minutes after us with their shirts complete wet from wiping tears. Everyone was laughing so hard, that made our night. We figured that was enough for one night and headed back to the

This book talks about a boy named Digory his friend called Polly. This two kids are extremely adventurous that like exploring abandoned houses. But, one day they wanted to explore the last house on the block. They were exploring the third house of the block but they found a secret tunnel which led to a little door at the end. they went to that little door and opened it…

So we went upstairs into a room that look like someone had redone the house and the room and the lights work we were lowkey kinda scared . So we walk into the the room we were look around until the door slammed we all jump , then we heard something fall from the ceiling so we turn around to see a old doll that was cracked and it was creepy looking , waller lying down on the ground . So we ran to the door and

If there was one thing that has grasped my attention as much as it caused me nightmares, it was haunted houses. Not the type of haunted houses that pop up around Halloween and frighten you with organized jump scares. I mean real haunted houses with a backstory. The kind where someone ended up being murdered on the property and the person’s spirit lingers years later. That’s what I am on the search for. My interest started after I had accidently watched My Paranormal Encounter while channel surfing at the age of 10. Ever since that day I’ve been doing research on paranormal activity: attempting to discover a way to conquer my fear. It’s been a decade since I first began and myself, along with a few friends, have been preparing for almost a year to further my research by visiting a real haunted house. Convincing myself that I was ready for this was more difficult than convincing the others involved. Even now as I sit in the back of some beat up van I feel like we should go back. I shifted my attention from the view of cornfields outside the window to the front where Tony and Cheryl sat jamming out to some song by Guns n’ Roses with the windows down. They started waving their hands around like fools, attempting to keep everyone lively since we had been on the empty road for several hours without stopping much. Behind me, Kurt opened the mini cooler, which sat upon miscellaneous crumbs that had always coated the colorless carpet, and snickered.

Then we heard a squeak,squeak,squeak in the hallway and we fell silent we did not have the courage to talk we looked outside the door and then there was the shadow coming up the stairs.We panicked we tried to hide but there was nowhere to hide we heard it speak “my,my

It was a cool October day, the small town of St. Marie, Wisconsin was getting ready for

While waiting a few minutes in the car , I made my mind up to go to the hotel to see if any of the doors were open in which to my surprise there was . I found the courage to open the door and go in , I was astonished to see a old , scary, skinny-boned man standing in the moonlit room behind a small desk . To my surprise there were only two rooms left , I asked if I could get a room, he told me to sign in ,then he gave me the key to room B13 . I was going up the creaking stairs when I heard a mysterious noise coming from behind me , I instantly turned to see what was making the noise but there was nothing there , as I continued up the stairs to my room , when heard that noise again as of tree branches bristling against each other , I ignored the sound thinking, hoping for it to go away , but it didn't stop. As I made my way through the hall to my door I saw a light coming from the room next door I didn't think much of it at the time.

I turned around, looking back at my old room. The paint on the wall is peeling off, the ceiling was falling apart, and the floor was cracking open. This was the house I have been living for thirteen years, and now I need to leave. Mom and dad bought this house from an old man, then thirteen years past, this is 2004. yes, it is already 2004, how fast is it! I stood there, staring at the empty room with only a little furniture. I can’t feel home, where is my home? I don’t know this weird feeling. Happy and sad at the same time. However, if I left, is it going to be an enjoyable life, or it is going to be another way that leads me to my doom? I kept repeating in my mind.

I walk towards the mailbox of my old house. I am hit with a sense of nostalgia as I walk down our gravel driveway. The remnants of old flags had been strewn across our pathway. I had left this house because of the tornado, which didn't hit the house. This was the only luck my family has ever had. I’ve heard all of the stories about my family’s curse, and how my family owned their own island. You may think this was an awesome thing, yet it wasn’t in the least enjoyable. The nearest supermarket was five nautical miles, and not to mention a gas station and a mall would add at least forty-five minutes to my travel time. Plus, the house was the only point of interest on our island other than the density of the wildlife. My family spent a long time searching for trespassers. There was even a fence surrounding the house to prevent kids from dying from our family’s hunting trips.

It was a dark brown house with red shutters. It was placed up on a hill so in the winter it was so difficult to pull the car in the garage. Inside, the walls were tan and mustard yellow. It was plain in the house but I didn’t expect much. It smelt like the over-done scentsy that I put in. It was called apple-butter and that’s exactly what the house smelt of. It was three stories and the basement was half finished. I painted the door a dark red and it made the whole house stick out. I remember it being so welcoming and now when I think about it, I get a cold shiver down my spine. There were holes in some of the walls from things being thrown. The front doors lock was splitting apart, the trim on the sides on the door was broken off. If those walls could talk I would go back in there for a day just to listen.