The Old House

"There is a witch that lives in that house," I said as we walked by the old house on Exmouth St. "Do you really think so?" Randy asked. "Yup. It has to be. Who else would live in a house like that?" The house was old and made of rotting wood, which the paint had peeled off of long ago. The windows were dirty, and one could barely see the old tattered curtains that hung …

…she has been alone, and she doesn't go out very much except to buy her groceries. Different church members visit her, and they are trying to convince her to move out of that old home. However, she says there are too many fond memories in that home, so she wants to stay there until she dies." I couldn't believe it. I felt sorry for her and angry with myself for believing a witch lived there.