It was a dark misty night; a storm was approaching. As a crack of lightning lit up the sky, a car drove into a deserted garage. The garage belonged to a haunted house. The family who were moving in on this dark night didn’t know the history that lies within this house.
The father reached for the door knocker; its shape was a face. The face of the knocker looked petrified and pale. It was as if the knocker was giving out a warning not to enter. He knocked the door; nothing happened. He knocked again; the door swung open. No one was there! The family entered, forgetting what just happened.

Carrying on the family attempted to switch on the light; it wouldn’t work. The lights were out.

While climbing the creaking wooden stairs, each member of the family lit a candle. Someone was there.

Pale, white and determined to get what she desired. She was dressed in a night gown and dainty, satin slippers, but she was hovering in mid air. Were ghosts real?

She started to explain about the history of the unknown house. She whispered, “Go home and never return for on the first night I was murdered. He that murdered me still lurks in the eerie shadows, waiting to catch his prey. If you don’t leave you won’t live any longer.” When she finished she disappeared into mist.

The youngest child fell in shock and a plank of the wooden floor had gone. Beyond the wood lay a leather book; it was a diary. The diary was dusty and old. Just as the little girl was about to read the first word a sword struck in her side. She was dead; they all were. It was the man who lurked in the shadows.
The book held the secret to him and his life in the past.