From the Foyer

The boy runs into the street and seems alright.  The birds are singing and no cars are around.  The sun shines overhead.  There is something odd concerning the boy, but what it is was unknown.  He walks now down the sidewalk past an abandoned house, which he for no reason enters.  He does so casually, which is peculiar.  The sun is setting, while the moon is rising.  He stands in the foyer, which is bare spare for dust and cobwebs, and an old vintage painting of an elderly woman.  The boy gazes once upon the painted visagage briefly, and it seems to glare back.

 

The boy ascends the nearby staircase as cautiously as a boy would. The stairs seem to strain. He then goes into a child's room and slips beneath the blankets. Slowly, he goes to sleep. Hours or just one pass by when something stange, a small odd sound echoes from somewhere in the house somewhere. The lad bolts up and cannot decifer the local of the sinister noise, nor does he dare to investigate its origins. The sounds intensifies he rushes and bolts the door the hurridly dives under the blankets. The sound is a breaking of wood and a tearing.  Then there is dead silence. An hour passes, then there are creaking footsteps ascending the stairs. The boy rushes cautiously to the door to ensure it is fastend, when it bursts open.  Standing in the doorway is the elderly woman from the painting, but now she has a face like a skeleton.