"Let's ride," Alana kicks her kickstand and began to fly down the dusty path. Securing my beanie, I follow.

She leads me to a small, blue house out in the middle of a high, grassy field. When we could no longer bike, she hopped off, dropping her bike.

Alana begins to run to the house. I follow.

As we approach, I realize the house was not nearly as nice as I expected; the sides of the house, once white, are now slate grey. The shutters are crooked and some are torn off completely. The rain, rotted shingles droop and a thin strand of ivy crawls from the base of the house to the roof.

"Um, Ali, do you think we should be here?" I ask nervously as we reached the front door.

"Of course we should be," Alana begins to open the door. "I come here all the time." As she opened the door, it creaked carelessly. "After you."

I step in and Alana walk behind me. Inside the house is dark, dingy and dirty. Dust coated anything and everything. Large cobwebs hung from corners of the walls, looking like a haunted house.

"How'd you find this place?" I finger some dust on the entry table before noticing a picture frame covered in dirt. Using the edge of my t-shirt I begin to wipe it off. A picture of a man and woman. Both smiling. They look familiar. Weird.

"I was just out exploring, probably while I was mad at my dad about something, when I came.. here.' Alana walks down through the entry hall.