• I shuddered as the chill of winter wind brushed up against my arm. Running my hands up and down my arm, I looked up again at the old white house in front of me. The architecture was that of the late 1936, which proved it worn with age. The shutters were shut, and nearly falling off the hinges, and where strips of wood were missing in them, tattered white curtains streamed outside. The paint was chipped, and some of the shingles were missing. There was a light on in the front porch, and in another room inside the house, what looked like the farthest room to the west side of the second floor. The outlook of the place in whole gave me chills that had nothing to do with the wind, but when I looked over to see my mother’s expression, she seemed in awe.
    “Amazing,” she gasped. I threw her a skeptic look, and then turned to see the house again, in attempt to see what she called “amazing.” The architecture itself was actually nice, and it must’ve been pretty easy on the eyes when it was first built- in 1936. Here today, it was hardly good-looking, even to history fanatics like my mom, or so I would think. I rolled my eyes- this is the down-side of having a social studies teacher for a mom.
    My mom turned to me and gave me that crazy smile of hers. “C’mon Riley, let’s take a look!” She started forward the house looking as giddy as a little kid in a candy shop- this is what she lived for you know- to find “amazing” antique houses like this one. I gave a heaving sigh, and started to walk with her. I kept staring at my toes as they crunched against the mixture of snow and loose granite while we walked up the drive. I looked up at the house again, this time my impression changed from faintly disgusted to fear as the house seemed to leer over my head. I turned around and tried walked backwards, so I wouldn’t have to look at house. It worked a while until I tripped over a lawn ornament.
    I feel down hard on the cold snow with a thump, managing not to hit my head on the ground. I pushed myself up off the ground to look at what I’d fallen over. A small, gray stone statue of a snake, stared at me with big marble black eyes. It was molded in a coiled position, looking ready to strike. I furrowed my brow at the statue, picking myself up off the ground. I glared right back into its black eyes, the reached down, and turned it around to face the end of the drive that lead onto Blackway Road.
    “Stupid snake,” I thought angrily.
    “Riley! C’mon!” my mom called from further up the drive. I glared at the statue then whipped around to sprint up to my mom. “You trip over something again?” she said, noting the snow covering my blue jacket.
    “Maybe,” I said sourly. Mom found it funny I was such a klutz; I didn’t. We were walking up the porch steps now, and I had to watch my footing for loose or missing floorboards. Mom was busy looking at the arch over the chipped white door.
    “Quite a beauty isn’t she?” she said. I threw her another skeptic look, and this time she caught it. “Bit of a fixer-upper but I’m sure we can repair her.”
    “We?” I whined, crossing my arms in front of my chest. My mom sighed, and looked downcast.
    “I,” she corrected herself. Mom had made me a deal when she decided to move out of town- she got to pick the house, but I didn’t have to part take in any of her “merriment.” Mom looked away and rung the door bell. The old fashioned ring tone echoed loudly in my eardrums, then the very last note hit a strong deep chord that made my body shake, and suddenly the wind rushed past me again, blowing my long almond color hair into my face. The entire porch seemed to creak, though mom didn’t seem to notice. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the clasp of the pocket book she was holding. I cast a quick glance around the forlorn property. There were young dogwood trees around the perimeter of the estate, their branches bare of leaves. Black iron fencing surrounded the rest of the grounds, and one tall dead looking oak tree stood tallest near the front of the drive. I wasn’t sure why, but I was beginning to feel unsteady. Just then the front door creaked open a fraction of the way, and a small female voice from inside called, “Hello? Mrs. Vancorst?” My mom attempted to peer at the voice from behind the door.
    “Yes, it’s Judie… I’m here to look at the house,” she said letting it sound like a question. Suddenly the door swung open and slammed against the inside wall with a “SLAM!” making me jump. An old frail women was standing in the doorway, her shaking hands clasped together, staring at us with beady eyes. She stood straight and tall, unlike most older people, but her skin and structure was aged with time, giving her resemblance of a thin old tree, swaying slightly in the breeze. She squinted at Mom trying to familiarize her face. She blinked her batty eye lashes at her for a few seconds.
    “Oh, Judie so glad you could come. Come, come in it’s positively freezing outside. Wouldn’t want you to catch cold,” she said shakily, motioning us to come in. As I stepped over the doorstep, a shiver ran up my arms, forcing me to try to shake it off. Inside was just as cold as outside, and possibly colder. The front hall was a rectangle shaped room, with two hallways on either side of the room separating into different sections of the house. A large old wood staircase started at the end of the hall winding upward. A silver chandelier was hung above the staircase on the highest ceiling. On both sides of the staircase were two wooden posts, with coiled up snakes on the top, just like the one I had tripped over outside. Beside me my mom shivered as well. I shuffled my feet inside.
    I wasn't sure if it was just me, but suddenly I had the strange feeling of being watched...