The House of Fear

She wandered around the dark hallways, aimlessly. The cold seeping through
the numerous cracks in the walls, her skin coated in goosebumps. Yet oanother night in this house. If she stayed out here long enough, the cold could numb more than just her body. She knew it. She had done it for the past ten miserable years of her life.

She had long ago come to the conclusion, that escape was but a fantasy, whispered in the dark and quiet, of the hardest nights. The doors were always locked, and the windows were covered in iron bars, a constant reminder of the prison that had housed her for years. Her view from the window, was empty, silent and deserted. No one around for miles, to hear her piercing screams, echoing through the dark, empty house. He had made sure that this was a house in which fear and despair were plenty, with no way to an easy end to the pain. He gave her just enough to be living, too much to die, and not enough to find any sort of small joy in life.

She had spent months searching the twisted house and it's many passages and rooms for something or someone, but not a soul was to be found, nor any thing different to the last room. An empty bed and a jug of water. Four white walls and one square roof. Nothing ever changed. This was the despair that she lived in. Gloom, despair, fear and loneliness, day after day, year upon year.

But then along came the boy.