I can see a house on the hill.
A door creaks. An owl hoots.
I hear wings flutter. It might be bats.
I can almost feel the creepiness and the silence
around me.
I walk closer.
I walk so close that I have to stop.
I can go no further.
I look up, scared.
The house is covered in spider webs!
The house needs serious cleaning. (I think.)
Creak.
I look around.
I see the door, its scary knocker.
It opens. A little.
Something grips the door. And I scream,
"HAUNTED HOUSE!"
2 comments:
Marah that was great! We really enjoyed it. I think you are very talented. Uncle Cliff is wondering why it didn't rhyme. We love you!
uncle cliff, some of the greatest poetry does not rhyme.
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