General

Even the key of the spooky house was fashioned from shadows, for ghosts can do that. The spirits can cross over from other realms with a wisp of a dream and hand over a golden key.

General

In the embrace of deep shadows, in the serenade of winters song, the spooky house breathed deep and long.

General

The spooky house was built from the poetry of nighttime trees, from their shadows and the chill of wintry rain.

General

The spooky house would let you in if you knew the right lullaby. As with all things that felt the need to be scary, it was afraid.

General

Spooky is in the heart of the beholder, and the house rather enjoyed its less than traditional vibe.

General

In the brindled light of dusk, when the greys and blacks become artwork for gothic souls, the spooky house was ready to play.

General

The house lives as if under constant shadow, as if the sun keeps reaching for those walls that shrink away. And so its windows stay black without the rippling effect of the light, never knowing that the dust that clings, the dirt of years, could so easily be washed away. The walls are so cold to the touch, stealing the heat from these warm fingers, never caring if my own heart froze. That there are ghosts inside is a certainty, that they bluster around screaming is a fact, yet only the house can usher them out and wish for those rays to kiss it some warmth.
Until that then the paint will peel and the wood will rot, forever wishing for the warmth of a touch.