Every time I walk by that house the air gets colder. It’s like time stops around that house. There is never a squirrel in the yard. The birds even fly around the house. When I walk to school I have to walk by that house. I am the only kid who walks everyone else takes the bus. The bus always zooms right by me leaving dust swirling. That house is gray and gloomy and the curtains are ripped and frayed. Now why am I telling you this? Well because I got into a stupid bet. A couple days ago we were talking about that house at lunch. The most popular kid at my school bragged that her sister had gone into the house and taken a small pocket mirror from the table. When no one believed her, so she pulled out a small mirror just like the one she described. It was silver and probably once was shiny but now was covered in rust and dirt. There was little indents around the edges that almost looked like words. I mentioned that no one had gone in there for years and the last person to go in was a kid fifthteen years ago and he never came out. I argued that it wasn't possible and that she probably found that in her attic. Then she dared me to go into the house and get something from it. I should have told her no way but instead I agreed and we decided I would do it the next day. This part I will not tell, but I shall save it for another day.