• Two figures walk side by side down the dark road lined with trees. The light from the moon shines down and shows them an old run down house. They walk onto the porch and went inside looking back to see if they were followed not wanting anyone to know there secret. Looking around they walked over to a couch they dare not to sit on. It was filled with antique beauty covered with red velvet and edged in wood. Though thread bare and faded it was still stunning. It looked to old and timeless to have someone sit on it.
    One of the figures, a girl, stroked it almost lovingly. She loved old houses and antiques because they had the best stories. Shrugging off her backpack she set it on the chair and looked at the boy who was doing the same thing. “You brought matches right?” She said looking up at the other figure.

    The other person, a boy pulled out and held it up giving it a little rattle. “Yep.”
    “Good.” She walked over the fire and crouched down beside it. She piled three logs onto it. Then she took some paper from a stack that she brought specifically for this and crumpled it into a ball. She placed it on top and looked back at the boy. “Could you light it?” She asked. She wasn’t to found of matches. The fire was to close to her fingers for her liking.
    “Of course I can.” He said walking over. He knelt down in front of the fire. Striking a mat he lit the paper. The girl sat on the floor watching and watched the fire spread through the paper and lick the wood as it crackled and hissed.

    "I can't believe we found this place.” She said still staring at the orange glow of the fire. “It’s so gorgeous and it whispers the greatest stories.” She said looking around.

    They had been coming to the old house for about a week. It was huge with furniture that used to be rich with color. Now, faded and thread bare, it carried an odd timeless beauty. The fire place, however, seemed untouched by age though it still held the same timeless beauty. It was made out of cream and white swirled marble and was carved so intricately it seemed not to be made by human hands.

    “Neither can I.” The boy said looking around. "But I wish I could hear the stories you talk about." He said looking at the girl. “All I hear is creaking wood.”

    The girl smiled. Most people would have thought her crazy, but not him. Ever since she was young she heard whispers when she walked into old buildings. They told stories to hear about what happened in them. The first time she could remember hearing the whispers was when she was five. She and her parents had taken a tour of an old house. They had gone past a bedroom and he was talking about a little girl who had died of small pox in it. She had looked up at the tour guide and asked “How old was the girl when she died?” He looked at her like she was crazy and then went on with the tour. It wasn’t until later on that she realized that the tour guide hadn’t said anything about the girl.

    “Yeah.” She said. “ Hey do you want to go looked around? I brought flashlights this time.”
    “Sure.” He said shrugging his shoulders. She got up, the boy following behind her, went over to the couch and dug into her backpack. A few seconds later she pulled out two flashlights and handed one to the boy.

    “Awe I wanted the other one.” He whined jokingly. She shook her head and started walking clicking on her flashlight.

    Ever since they found the house she had wanted to explore it, but they never had time. When she had time the boy wasn't there and she didn't want to go alone. This was there first chance and she excited and scared. She had never done something like this, but her curiosity was taking over. She wanted to see what was in the house. She could hear it lovingly tell long forgotten memories and whisper untold secrets, and those were just from the living room. What would the other rooms tell her? She couldn't wait to hear it tell her more of it's life before.