The old house squatted at the edge of town like a mean old dog and stared out from behind the trees with a distinct edge of hostility about it.

Amina had seen it often, on her way back from work. The bus would stop by the red light and she would watch it, cautiously, suspiciously, through the everpresent rain.

She had lived in the City her whole life, yet could not remember a single instance of a cloudless sky. A city of tears, she had thought once. Now she didn't know what to think.

The House sat in a field bordered by a train track, a fence and two roads. It seemed too grand for its surroundings. Almost like a castle, or a mansion, Amina thought. If only it hadn't been so...

So what?

The red light turned yellow, then green. The bus began to accelerate.

Suddenly Amina found herself seized by an overwhelming curiosity. She hurried to get up from her seat, raced to the front and shouted:

"Stop! Stop the bus!"

The driver shot her a dirty look, but otherwise didn't comment.

And then she was outside.

As she walked down the long driveway towards the squatting house, rainwater splashing against the bottom hem of her raincoat with every step she took through the puddles, she began to question her decision.

The house seemed even more menacing from this angle.

She could see more of it now, for one thing.

She stopped and took it all in, unsure of what to do next. She looked up to the windows of the house, imagined meeting its gaze head on.

"I'm not scared of you", she mumbled.

But she hesitated all the same.

Unbeknownst to her, from one of the windows of the house something (someone?) was watching back.

The home seemed to resemble an entity almost, its windows like hollow eyes boring into her small size and its dark presence looming over the area the closer she came.

She kept her eyes focused on the shadow that lingered in the house, similarly locking its gaze onto hers. Her body shook with fear, urging to retreat, but she had passed the point of no return; it's not like the bus is waiting for her to return, and the driver certainly wasn't the patient kind for people like her.

Leaves long dead crunched under her feet as she continued into the woods, distant from any city life at a certain point. The trees had become the only life around her, excluding possibly the house and its inhabitant. Or inhabitants.

What if there were others in there? Who'd want to live in such a decrepit home?

Amina murmured little words of courage to herself as she grew closer.
"It's fine, Amina, it's broken down. It's literally an old house. You only see that thing in the window 'cause you feel scared. It'll be fine; I'll walk in, find nothing, explore a bit, then leave, simple as that."

The wind brushed against her coldy, spewing rain against her coat harshly. She grumbled, then looked around; it's just her, the forest, and the house.

It doesn't feel as empty as it should here.

The wind, a gust so strong, whirled around her, nearly knocking her over as she stood staring at the house.

“I'm not scared of you,” she hissed again at whoever lurked inside, be it the shadows of her imagination or the others watching her.

And then she saw it. The curtains fluttered ever so slightly. Someone was peeking out, watching her. She was certain now – had been right all along – the house was not empty.

An icy chill ran through her, like fingernails on a chalkboard, an intuitive warning of danger. She should have heeded the warning and hightailed it back the way she had come before it was too late, but something pulled on her raincoat, preventing her from leaving.

A fear, unlike anything she had ever felt before, coursed through her, and she trembled uncontrollably. She didn’t know what to do. She was puzzled. She saw no one near her, only those shadows watching her through the windows of the old house.

"It's fine, Amina, it's broken down,” she repeated. “It's an old house. You only see things in the window 'cause you’re scared. It’s just your imagination.”

To her horror and fear, whatever or whoever had forced her to stay, was now slowly pulling her towards the old house.

But she no longer wanted to go inside, explore a little, and then leave. Nothing would be so simple; nothing would be fine.

Now it seemed as if she had no choice. Whatever evil lurked within the dilapidated walls of the large house wanted her to go inside and face her fears.

She dug the toes of her shoes into the wet dirt to keep her from being pulled into the house but noticed how small the distance she had traveled. She was nowhere near the house just yet.

Was her imagination playing tricks on her because she was so scared? She wasn’t sure anymore. Her head felt dizzy, crazy.

She had to stop all this. She had to stop and face her fears head on. She had to decipher reality from imagination.

This house was just an old run-down, abandoned house too grand for its surroundings, wasn’t it?