|You stare at the enormous broken-down house that everyone in town would avoid if they were present; stories circulated throughout the town of the mysterious noises heard there, and strange things seen there.Were those stories true? It seems that you are about to find out.
You lean your bike, a reasonable new hand-me-down from an older cousin, against the ancient fence that encompasses the enormous yard. The fence has a gap in it just wide enough and tall enough for you to walk through.
You enter the property and stare at what you thought was, and what one moment before had appeared to be, a ruin, an abandoned mansion. It no longer looks so run-down anymore. In fact, it does not resemble the old house at all.
You look behind you. The town has vanished in thick, white fog. The fence you have just passed through appears to be made of well taken-care-of rose bushes, with all shades of flowers from white to red. The bright colors are thrown into sharp relief against the white, colorless smoke behind it.
You look down. Leading from the entrance amid the roses to the former haunted house is a path; not of concrete, nor even of rock or dirt. The path cuts through the yard of perfectly kept grass; at first glance it appears to be made more of dirt than of anything else, but upon closer inspection you find that there are tiny glistening specks scattered throughout, as through it had been plain dirt