Snapshot #1

Paul crept cautiously to the entrance of the dark room. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed on the rough, dusty door. As it opened, its rusty hinges screamed in torture, assailing his ears and making him wince. Paul took one more step and stopped abrubtly.
The awful tableau leapt at his eyes, sinking claws into his vision, forcing him to take in the entire scene.

A chill ran through him, stroking its icy fingers down his spine, making him shiver. Warm breath eagerly rushed out of his mouth and froze upon contact with the frigid air, unwilling to return to him.
The room was thick with despair. Signs of destruction were all too obvious in the smashed windows and splintered floorboards. Worst of all was the bitterly weeping girl curled up in the middle of the wreckage, not quite solid, not quite there. There was no doubt. This was a haunted house.