The house loomed above me, daring me to turn and run, but had a job to do. I had to assess the house ready for demolition on Monday. The autumn rain had meant the job had already been put off the last couple of weeks, so I tightened my scarf and made my way across the street.

Abandoned and lonely the paint flaking Queenslander stood amidst the waist high grass that swallowed the small block of land. Making my way towards the front steps I noticed a stone path barely visible beneath the unruly weeds that strangled the dirt beneath. The stairs that led to the door had rotted long ago, and threatened to collapse at any moment.

Fear gripped me as I went to open the door, I just couldn’t
An eerie feeling gripped me as I went to open the door I had a sinking feeling that something horrible was about to greet me on the other side. I listened could there be someone living here? I couldn’t shake that sense of fear as I pushed open the old wooden door.
The room has an eerie feel to it and I can’t help but imagine the laughter and love that once filled this house

The smell is overpowering, like dead and decaying animals, I wonder how long can hold my breath to assess the job. Never before had I seen a house, ready for demolition, but still holding on to someone’s life. Faces of children smiled through the dust covered frames, unread novels lay discarded on a coffee table. Mould was rife, smothering the recliner. The wallpaper that had once been decorated in flowers was stained and ripped. Bank statements and bills littered the small wooden table in the corner of the room. It was as though life in this house just ceased to exist.

Wind blows through the broken windows, doors and walls creak giving me an uneasy feeling of another presence within the house. As I make my way over the smell creeps through my nasal cavities, causing me to gag. I begin to open the door leading off from the living room a squeal erupts as an explosion of mice spill out from underneath the door causing me to jump out of the way of the wave of vermin. Cautiously entering the room I reel in horror at the crimson blood that stained the wallpaper and the corps that lay festering on the carpet. Hister Beetles feasted in the tissue that clung to the victim’s clavicle and flies buzzed around the green liquid that had oozed from their lungs. My feet were glued to the floor as my adrenal gland continued to pumped adrenalin and cortisol, and as the walls began to close in on me and my world continued to spin, one word left my lips.
Murder.