{Story} The Old House

At the end of the street overhung with dark trees and Spanish moss covering their branches, there sits a really old house.  The tiles are falling off the roof, the porch has crumpled to the ground in a pile of wood, and the house leans to one side as if pushed by one to many winds.

It used to belong to a crazy person a long time ago, and after they died no one was crazy enough to take the old place, letting it fall into years of disrepair, and neglect.  Now the old house is the subject of many rumors around town, which only adds to the horrific image of the place.

After night had fallen, we approached the place, my friends and me, and careful to step over the sharp wooden splinters of what used to be a porch, we opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

One of my friends had brought a flashlight and he turned it on now, we could see in front of us an old room in complete disrepair.  The old red velvet couches were stained with who knows what, with the stuffing falling out through patches and rips in the old furniture.  And there where claw marks everywhere we looked!  On the walls, the furniture, the stairs banister, everywhere.
  
Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a bat-like creature appeared with an unearthly screech swooping down at us.  A kangaroo-like creature with the face of a horse, the head of a dog, leathery bat-like wings, horns, small arms with clawed hands, cloven hooves and a forked tail.

We all screamed and ran away from it, hiding behind couches, under tables, anywhere we could!  Not knowing if we where going to make it out alive.