THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HAUNTED HOUSE

                 Now that I am closing for the night, I'd like all the lights to be turned off, so that I can spend the night in peace. I was not always a haunted house. I was constructed in Seville, a place in Spain, where I remain to this day.

                At first, I was a normal house with polished furniture, painted walls and fine rooms. I also had a large and beautiful garden. A young man called Antonio Lopez lived in me. As his parents, who are now dead, were billionaires, he, being their only child, had inherited so much money that he didn’t need to work. He was a very mysterious man who liked to live alone, talk to him-self, and watch the television all day. The only time when he went out of me, was to collect the morning paper.

                One day, while watching the T.V., he discovered that his favorite movie was about to be shown. He immediately went to my hidden underground cellar, to prepare for the movie, by collecting drinks and snacks. On his way up, he slipped, hit his head on the sharp part of the stairs, and died on the spot. The neighbors must have started to feel suspicious, because, in a few days, three policemen entered me and looked around. They saw that I was deserted and Mr. Antonio was nowhere to be seen. But they didn’t find my secret cellar. From that day on, the rumor spread that Mr. Antonio had mysteriously disappeared. Some people even started saying that his ghost was roaming inside me. They started calling me “The Haunted House”.

                From that day, nobody stepped foot around me. I became the talk of the town. Slowly, spiders started building cobwebs in my corners. My furniture started rotting, and my well-tended garden became overgrown with weeds. The paint on my walls started to wear off, my large iron gate started to rust. Rats and insects lived in me. My garden was infested by animals like mice and snakes. Even birds started making their nests on my clean chimneys. I remained in such a miserable state for years.

                One day, an Indian man, called Jai Patel came to Seville. He must have heard the stories about me being a haunted house, because, he cut through my weeds and entered me. He grumbled at my horrible condition, as he inspected my every room with a flashlight. He even found my secret cellar and saw Mr. Antonio’s remains. He immediately reported this to the authorities and soon, a few men entered me, and took Mr. Antonio’s remains for a proper funeral. The people of the neighborhood thanked him.

                With the permission of the local authorities, he transformed me into a horror house and had people pay one euro, to look around, inside me. In a room, he put many types of mirrors, so that, people could see themselves in different sizes and shapes. In another room, he put a remote-controlled rubber skeleton, which would jump out at people, and start dancing in front of them, scaring the living daylights out of them. In one room, he put many coffins out of which, mechanical vampires, ghosts and mummies would pop out and surprise them. He did things like these to every room and even put up a signboard outside me saying “Halloween Horror Haunted House. I bet you won’t walk out without screaming.” He transformed me into such a nightmare, that sometimes, even I get scared of myself. I am very contented with my life, and am hoping this would last forever.