As Peter is a good friend of Sam’s, he got up immediately and prepared him to go meet him. Before leaving he made sure he had his phone and his wallet in his pocket. He ate his breakfast unhurriedly and left the house. After playing with his phone fort a little while he realised that he only had a minimal amount of battery left. Sam did not worry about it. It was around 10AM and there was not a single cloud in the sky. The grass was green and the pavement was dry. Sam wore white shorts and a baggy sky blue T-shirt and was starting to power walk. He saw Peter’s face and he wasn’t sure what was going on Peter called him to get closer; so Sam did.
Sam walked up and old and weeded paved path. The bricks were old and tattered – it seemed as if people had worked upon them for centuries. He reached a large rusty gate which had been painted black. The hinged were too rusted to operate properly and the gate was constantly left open which attracted all unusual visitors. He did not want to touch the gate as he squeezed his way between the two ancient pieces of metal. He was now in 1 Wilfred Lane. He gazed at Peter and was returned with a shout to come inside. He looked around the residence to find that there was no living thing – anywhere. All the large, clambake windows were boarded up and the door was broken. The wooden house painted purple and was outdated. The grass was a plae colour. Everything he looked at just seemed lifeless. Sam, trembling with anxiety, walks over to the front door of the outdated house.
As he walked through the door a cob web caught his face. Sam spat on the wooden floor with disgust leaving a trail of his saliva. He heard Peter’s voice echo around the house. He was nowhere to be seen. Sam moved a step forward and was hailed with a long unwanted creek. He felt uncomfortable; he started to sweat. He could feel his pulse at his temporal. After every beat, he walked further and further away from the door. He peered across the hallway, and noticed monuments which dated from the 18th century that lay all dusty and preserved. It was like walking into a whole new era.
Sam ambled over to one of the very few windows that were not boarded. The grass was uncut and rubbish lay in the back garden. He peered through the door frame and caught a glimpse of Peter escaping. Within a couple of seconds he heard the door slam and echo around him. In hundredths of a second the door was boarded up. He knew it was Peter. He ran throught the cob webs until he reached the front entrance He tried pushing and pulling the door but he failed miserably. Sam sighed. He tried kicking his door but returned to the same conclusion. He ken there was no way out; it was hopeless trying.
Sam tried to look hopeful. He started walking around the house looking for windows large enough to climb b through but was simply out of luck. Whilst examining the rest of the house, Sam came across another exit which was at the back of the house. It was an old glass door. The white paint was starting to peel off and the glass had been boarded u p. A rusted gold door handle was semi –attached to the door and Sam hurried to check whether it opened the door or not. He was out of luck. The door handle when he tried to open it. Sam’s face looked shocked and scared.
He stood still, breathing heavily. Questions were running through his mind. “What should he do next?” How is he going to escape?” He tired holding his breath to create the silence in which he needed to think; he just kept breathing heavier and heavier. He started to amble up the stairs taking every footstep cautiously. Every stride he made was complimented with an undesirable creek. He had three more steps to go; he decided to take all three steps in one over-stretched stride. He had finally made it to the top and as he looked around the first floor he started to feel more curious about what was in each room. None of the rooms had any doors but a ray of light caught Sam’s eye. The dismal floor magically lit up. He started to walk closer and closer the source of light more and more hope. As he got nearer to the source he realised it was a window the size of his hand.
Sam stopped walking with fright and he started to sweat. He did not want to stay in this spooked house any longer. He gazed at a chair next to the window. Its rusted metal structure was decorated with cob webs creating a unique pattern. Sam started to feel paranoid as the chair’s reflection blinded him. Sam took his jacket off and started to clean the chair; he sat down whilst taking his phone out of his pocket.
Sam started to peer through the hand sized window whilst switching on his phone. The rays of the Sun were strong and anyone of any age would find it difficult to sit near the window. His phone finally switched on. It annoyed him that he had forgotten to charge his phone and now, his phone ‘beeps’ every three seconds reminding Sam he has got low battery. He started to key in his mother’s phone number; he pressed the call button. He placed the phone to his ear and heard the message: ‘You have insufficient funds to make this call.’ The phone switched off; Sam kicked the wall in frustration. A dent was made win the same shape of the front of his shoe. Sam started to panic; no credit, no battery. April fool’s day just seemed like it wasn’t the day for Sam. He heard voices and saw bodies walk past the ancient wooden house. Sam got up and thumped the wall hoping for a reply, but unfortunately failed.
Sam leant against the wooden wall; it was silent. His legs began to tremble whilst he breathed heavier, to help minimise the silence. His legs started to warm up the longer they were exposed to the Sun. Sam started to sweat; the hairs on his legs lay still. He kept trying to switch his phone on but was out of luck.
He sat down alone on a date rusty chair hoping for company. He sat thinking about whether or not Peter was his real friend. He thought about Grace and how he actually missed her. He whistled to his mind off all these things; SLAM. Sam jumped with terror instantly. His pulse raced whilst he picked u the chair. He crept up to the nearest door; he peered around the hallway for any moving objects. Voices echoed around Sam. He turned to stare through the diminutive window.
The rusty black gate started to open. An aged white hand gripped the metal rods firmly. The person’s face was hidden behind the brick wall; the Sun’s rays were reflected in a yellow reflecting jacket. The gates were jammed and the man was forced to kick it down. He was carrying an item which looked liked new furnished wooden stick. He started to walk along the worn out path; another man followed him