Every city has a haunted house worth writing an essay about. Old. Dome. Creeping. He is found among the dead trees, standing above an overgrown yard. The shutters swing in the breeze, hanging on rusty hinges. The paint has chipped. There are more tiles among the weeds than on the roof. At least one window is broken. Dark clouds always seem to loom over the house, located on a dead-end street. And then there are the stories. A man went crazy and killed his entire family at home. One night, the house caught fire and a child died there. Again and again, with a tragic death at the center. Because then come the other stories. Go there at night and you can hear the screams coming from the house! People who stay indoors at night listening to the cries of a newborn baby and the smell of smoke. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay The house fascinates me. It always has been, ever since I was a child and first heard those stories. It's another October. It's time to collect the strange stories about the house. I swear there are more every year. And everyone is different. They fascinate me. But at the same time it makes me sad. Why? Because I don't have a story of my own. I have never experienced anything paranormal with the house. And it's not for lack of trying. I go home every day and look for something out of the ordinary. Nothing. I would use a Ouija board but they are banned by the Catholic Church. This year, however, is different. I am an adult this year. No curfew. And a camera. I'll conduct my own little investigation. Maybe I'll have my own story to tell this year. And that's why I'm in the garden shaking. I'm trying to find the courage to enter the house. My hand circles the cold brass knob and I twist it. The door creaks open and I tiptoe inside. Inside there is a musty smell. Everything creaks. My breathing quickens as I continue inside. I want to go upstairs because the stories are all centered on the second floor. If there should be anything in this house, I know I will find it there. The stairs creak beneath me. I held my breath with every step. Mostly in fear. Once I reach the landing, I walk down the corridor. A dirty, tattered carpet covers the wooden floorboards. My heart beats faster and faster. If there's something in this house, I doubt it won't hear me. I stopped in front of a door, if I remember correctly, this is the most haunted room. It depends on which legend you believe: the man killed his children in this room or where the child died in the fire. So I'm sure I see something here if the house is indeed haunted. Please note: this is just an example. Get a custom paper from our expert writers now. Get a Custom Essay The door opens, I turned on the flashlight, checking if anything might jump out at me. Nothing. I enter the room. Disappointment washes over me when I realize it's a normal room. Sure, it needs a good cleaning, but it's still just a room. In the center of the room was a rusted bed frame, a dress by the window, a daybed under the broken window, and a rocking chair. I go in and check the room again. The only other thing in the room is a wardrobe. One door is missing and the other is hanging. If I blow hard enough, I can end it. Once I'm sure there's nothing else in the room, I place the camera on the windowsill. I sit in the chair with a tape recorder. It's time to get started. “If there's anyone here, I don't want to hurt you. Please give me a sign that you are here. I just want to tell your story. And so I wait. Relaxing when I identify the source as something external or the house one is in