The haunted

Chapter 1

Jack fletcher. That was the little boy's name, and by little boy, I mean a skinny but tall 12 year old loner who loves to research about ghosts. He claims to be 12 but looks just like a 10 year old. Every 12 year old he had seen were taller and more mature-looking people. Actually, he remembers that he had faced an accident just two years before and had a crack in his left knee. 

He had never had friends. In fact, it was almost like nobody knew that he existed. He was treated like a shadow. It made him sad sometimes and that was how he got used to reading. His favourite genre was horror. From the day he knows that he existed, he has been crazy about ghosts. He had listened to ghost stories with interest when the others cowered in fear.

Though he had listened to others telling spooky ghost stories, whenever he wanted to ask something, they would never answer him so he had to read books to clear find out more.

He never knew why but he was so interested in ghosts that he started searching for a haunted place to go to as an adventure. In his most favourite adventure book he had read, there were a group of friends who went for adventure but, as he had no friends, he decided to go to a haunted house in the nearby village alone. That was his first mistake.

He went to the lane. The place was full of trees and flowers except for a place around a tattered old building. The building was an old rundown. Anyone who would have seen that would have ran like they had to finish a marathon but not Jack. His eyes was filled with longingness and curiosity. He longed to go inside and investigate.

He was tingling with some sort of excitement and curiosity. There were several boards nailed to the gigantic entrance gate. One board said 'do not enter', another one said 'enter at your own risk', yet another said, 'ghosts inside'. A prick of fear crept inside Jack for the first time as he read through the word, 'GHOSTS'. His hair on his neck stood up, tasting the chill air, prickling Jack sharply. With trembling hands, he tore off the hoardings. He stepped onto the dusty grey path that leads to the entrance of the house. He walked towards the rusty old iron door of the house. He suddenly heard a rustle. Wind. It is just wind, he assured himself but, boy, was he wrong. It was a gale. Heavy wind, literally blowing out skinny old boy into pieces, for all that its worth. He was scared but more than that, he was excited. Just as he was about to keep his hand on the door and open it, he heard footsteps.