A haunted house. A pile of creaking, rotting boards filled with who-knows-what inside. But I'm going to do it. I am going to go in. I walk up the sidewalk towards the mansion, cautiously, not to disturb any ghosts or vampires. I get to the front porch and open the door.

Along with the squeaky, rusty joints of the door, a gust of wind comes out of the house; smelling much like mold and mildew. I walk in. All the sudden, loud thunder cracks. Rain pours over me due to a hole in the rotted ceiling. I step to the left, avoiding the rain.

There, I see, is a long hallway, with wallpaper drooping, boxes on either side of me, and an old, narrow staircase to the left. It is a lot smaller inside than I had anticipated. I walk to the closest box.

It is overflowing with old packing peanuts, which doesn't surprise me. The owner was thinking of moving before he died. Something about evil spirits, I guess. I reach my hand into the cardboard box and feel the smooth sphere of what I think is a crystal ball. Boy, am I wrong. I pull it out. Sitting there, in my own two hands, is a skull. No not one you see in a doctor's office. A real human skull.

Boom, a crack of lighting. I whip around, dropping the skull to a billion tiny pieces, dust forming around it. A zombie, almost like Frankenstein's monster, is standing there, staring at me. Next thing I know I am in the children's ward of a hospital, in a bed and gown. Filed around me are the people I love. My mom, dad, sister, grandma.

They explain to me that it was all a dream. I was dancing outside and I slipped in a puddle. My tap shoes scraping against the pavement, my head hitting the back bumper of my dad's brand new car. I ask how long I was out. They tell me that it's Halloween, so about two weeks. So my friends, if I'm gone tomorrow, you know what happened.