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“Will You Die For Me?”

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Almost every summer my family and I would travel to some rural English village, to our holiday house in a little village. I won’t say where exactly but it had about a 5-minute walk to the beach from the village. All the houses were made of cobble and brick in a uniformed row for about half a mile. A place where everybody probably knew each other, a quiet and pristine little village it was. It brought another level to the word “community”.

My house was smack right in the middle of the village. It was formerly called a lodge because servants who used to work in the now abandoned Manor that backed into our backyard. The house had been abandoned for decades now. No one spoke of it, went there nor knew who owned it. 

I would spend my time playing with my friends Alex and Dylan, their families also owned houses in the same row as ours. We would play together from dusk to dawn splashing in the beaches and play in the park. Something regular 10-year-olds do. 

When I had arrived at the village Alex, not Dylan were anywhere to be found. So all I could do was play in my garden or help my mum with the flower beds. At the end of our garden, there was a mini forest with many different varieties of animals that called the “forest” home. There was a fence that was rotting behind it. A mischievous kid as I was I tried to make a hole in the fence by kicking at it.

When the hole was big enough I quickly pushed myself through it scrambling in. I had finally landed in the uncharted territory filled with overgrown grass and weeds. it was easy enough for me to navigate through it. I was tall enough for a ten-year-old to be able to see above the grass and weeds. The Manor was located on my right. I had to walk down for a few minutes until the surrounding trees started disappearing into the background and the enormous house came into view right in front of me. More a mansion I would have to say, it was huge. The marble and brick that it was made from could hardly be seen at all since most of it were covered in layers and layers of thick Ivy. Walking on I got into a driveway that looked like it had not been used even longer than when the house was abandoned. Walking up to the door I saw a number 1 etched in the door, not thinking much of it I just thought it was a house number.

I tried to open the door but it seemed like it was locked from the inside. To the right side of the door there was a window that gave a blurry view of what looked like a living room. Pressing my face to the glass to take a peek inside. It was mostly empty. Wallpaper ripped apart and crayons strewn across the floor. It had looked like a child had torn the wallpaper off the wall so he would be able to draw on the wall. The window was blurry and scratched so I could not make out what the drawings on the wall were.   As I mentioned before, I was quite a curious kid, so I scouted the exterior of the house to try and find another way in. I carried on walking along the right hand side of the house when I came to a small side door over grown with ivy. We don’t have poison ivy in England so I knew I’d be ok pulling as much of it off the door as I could. You might think this was predictable, but this was genuinely what happened, as I pulled the ivy off the door I saw the latch was broken, it didn’t shut properly so it was ajar, ready for anyone to walk in.