• I twisted the doorknob and took a deep breath. I was afraid of what I might find in the room of this once-abandoned house. I pushed against the door, but it moved only slightly. I turned, placing my shoulder against the cold hard door, and shoved. It swung open with a soft creak, hitting something on the other side and rebounding a little.

    The first thing I noticed was the couch in the center of the room. Turned on its side, it looked to be from the 1940's. I could tell it used to be red, but the color had faded to an almost gray. Th fabric was torn and worn down. The cushion were clear on the other side of the room, laying amongst the shards of the smashed window and beneath remnants of a broken lamp. A few pictures seemed to still be hanging on the walls, though crooked, while the majority lay ruined on the floor, the only mirror cracked beyond recognition. A table lay over turned in the far right corner with an old-fashioned typewriter in two beside it. The wooden floor was cracked and stained and gaping holes stood in it and the roof and ceiling. Papers, silverware, and other undefined objects littered what was the ground, so I'm surprised that I could even see enough of the floor to describe it. There was no oder, but dust burned my nose.

    Wall paper was peeling off the walls, once blue with delicate green flowers. A desk had been destroyed to my left, beyond repair, and files had been flung around it while a broken vase had soaked them. Dust had formed in a thin layer over everything, and every object in the room was seemingly colorless, faded like the old red couch, and the room looked dull and gray. Th rest was hidden in a shroud of darkness. No light could be shed in the midst of this gloom, for the only light besides the lamp was the chandelier, once hanging proudly in the center of the ceiling, which was now shattered and bent on the ground, leaving only snapped wires poking through a hole.

    I did not know what had happened, and I hand a feeling I didn't want to.