The Spirits of 66 Manor Avenue
“Did you see that?” screamed Agent Romenoff, panicked from our trapping inside the buildings ghastly shadows. I rollback to a few minutes ago, when Russian Agent Romenoff stared at me with his black, beady eyes, unsure if the package was in here. The night sky was cold, and the moon wasn’t out. We were standing outside 66 Manor Avenue, the only house on the hill and we were the only people there. Agent Romenoff and me loaded our guns, and tip-toed toward the door. We had to find if there was a package there for the Agency. We knocked on the door, and waited. No reply. Gun in hand; I aimed at the door’s lock. Then the door opened, and knocked me on the ground cold.
When I come to, Agent Romenoff was sitting on one of the pieces of furniture, seeming to retrace his memory. We look around, stunned, and scrounge for the package and an escape route. The big house seemed abandoned since decades, old couches gathered dust, food in the kitchen grew mold, and paintings faded their color. I look toward a table that just moved across the room. I stalk toward the table to feel an ominous, chilly wind pass through my soul. I had a feeling Agent Romenoff and me weren’t alone in the cold, uninviting home. Agent R keeps searching behind paintings and through dusty, blurry windows. I jump upstairs hoping this two-story home had some secrets. I hear a faint noise and hide into one of the four rooms. A boy lived in that room, and a very creepy one. I nearly crash into the femur of a hanging skeleton. I look around to see spiders, everywhere! I shrivel at the sight of a faint-red glowing pumpkin staring at a photo of a little boy. I run from the room and trip over an amplifier in the next room.

“The heavy rocker chick must have really enjoyed music,” I thought as I go through the discs. The discs were old, black, and round. I see a gramophone in the corner of the room. There were no secrets in this room. I must’ve been cursed in this daunting house the second I entered. I hear the faint noise I heard getting louder as I walk into the master bedroom.
As soon as I walk in, my mind goes blank. It was as if the door was a portal to a land of pure blankness. There was absolutely nothing in there. I daze in there, wondering what to think about. I see a small box and walk toward it. Almost forgetting about what I was looking for, I open the box hoping some brockite was in there. Inside I look to see a pair of stamps, from 1942, almost 70 years old. I decide with the last of my concentration to get out of there, before anymore brain damage occurs. I peer downstairs with my bad eyesight to see Agent R whacking air, typical Agents. I walk into the last room and hear a lullaby. Downstairs, I hear a chair collapse. The haunted spirits scatter, and close the doors. Trapped, I look around in the fourth room to see dolls staring at me. The lullaby gets louder, scarier, and crazier. I lose my humanity and start to run around the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something sparkle. I look toward it to see a piece of earth’s rare mineral: brockite. I stumble toward it, and look clearly at it. I throw it at the wall, making a hole leading to the outside. I jump out the small hole and land on my leg. Agent R already broke through the front door and was running from the strange spirits surrounding him in a dark shadow.
I limp as fast as I can to get away from the house tilting toward me. With all my strength, I run from the shadow the house is going to crush. The ominous forces whip up a dark storm, and I’m blown back 3 feet. The house falls over me, me three feet from being safe. Barely breathing, I hear a small faint voice of a little girl across the street asking her mom, “Did you see that?”