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My House or Our House

by Raymond Rawiri-Littlewood

Pages 4 and 5 of 7

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 Ben's phone beeped on reminders reminding him that he had a court case for his client as he was a lawyer. So he slipped out of bed, got dressed, had his breakfast grabbed his case and locked the door. As Ben walked along the footpath he felt a swoop on his right leg so he stared at his house and as second went by, his house would change. Bit by bit. Tile by tile. And . The undergrowth is clothing to the house, hiding the house's secrets for years, the house is like an old statue but unwanted, and forgotten. The house looks like it was in a war zone because the boards were broken, windows smashed, chimney on a tilt, skeletal trees and the thing that creeped him out was the wooden door that was just ajar. Ben ran straight to the door not thinking what he was doing and as soon as he reached the horrifying, horrific, haunted house. “Hello fugitive,” boomed a voice. “You killed that little girl, why,” I asked frightened. “That was no girl, that was your daughter and now you will end up how she did,” he boomed back as Ben let out a wail ,“AHHHH!” Ben did not turn up to the court case.
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BANG! “Mr figure, where is your lawyer,” said the judge in a deep voice. Mr figure replied with a snarl on his face,“I do not know Judge, maybe he is at home”...
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