Scamper across slippery pavement

Wet and cracked

Fleeing from the storm which chases with black, billowing clouds

Letting loose bellows of thunder that shake the heavens in their outrage

Lightning rakes its claws across the sky

Revealing for only a moment

A creaking, mysterious old mansion

Left in a state of disrepair

Black paint flaking away from weathered boards

Which have seen many storms and perhaps other things

A large, once grand porch, now covered in brown vines

Dry and dead

Shadows seeping out of windows, tall and gaunt

Revealing nothing of the secrets inside

Surrounded by spindly trees

reaching their branches, like hands, out into the night

Reaching for something they cannot have

Dead brown leaves swirl up with the wind only for a moment

Until settling back into the mud

Before crunching into pieces under small, tired feet

The rotting old stairs of the mansion let out a groan

As small boots ascend them

Tiny hands reach up and grasp a cold, iron handle

Attached to the cryptic, unwelcoming door of the mansion.

A small figure can be seen as lightning flashes

Disappearing into the darkness and secrets of the old manor.