Include the following words: silver, relativity, watercolor, Copper Beech, limited, affect, broccoli, politician, arsenal, cufflink
The silver light of a full Moon casts an eerie halo upon the mansion. The night is partly cloudy, a hazy blend of blues and blacks like a watercolor mural. A lazy breeze brings the shiver of chills down the spine and the branches of the copper beach sway and cackle together like the drop of old bones.
The mansion itself is falling apart. Rotted wood lines the porch, creaking even with the faintest weight. It overshadows the night with towers standing taller than trees. Bats flutter in the holes in the walls. The foundation’s split and leaning. No one knows the history of the hollow mansion. Some believe it belonged to an ancient politician, but if you hear the tales, you know it belongs to a vampire.
There’s limited evidence that the stories are true, but one brave soul got out alive. He entered that mansion on the line between courage and foolishness. Dust layered the floor like snow and furniture appears like ghosts in way the dim light reflected off their covered sheets. A grand staircase welcomed the man, carved in gold and marble with oak railings rotting away with neglect. Atop the stairs stood an extravagant organ. Ivory keys gleaming like stars and lined finely by the ebony above them. Gold and obsidian blended together in the towering pipes that stretched above, defining the laws of relativity.
The man was tempted to play, drawn by the organ’s magnificence. He watched his own hands reach for the keys. Like a spell affected him, he could not pull away. The beautiful instrument was its own arsenal to take down intruders. Then the screech happened.
An ear splitting shriek filled the air. The man was broken from his spell, covering his ears in desperate attempt to keep them from bleeding. The vampire attacked from behind, but then recoiled from the man like a child avoiding broccoli. Believing the old tales, the man wore a string of garlic around his neck He shoved past the vampire, fleeing for his very life.
No one believed him upon returning to town, but he had his proof in hand. When he shoved the vampire, he stole a little trinket from the monster’s wrist: the vampire’s cufflink.
One thought on “Writing Prompt: A Haunted House”
Great job painting the scenario. What did he do with the cuff link?
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