“No.”
“Come on Melinda! What are you so afraid of anyway? It’s not like you’d have to go by yourself is it? I love haunted houses!” “Oh... and there was me thinking you were just trying to convince me that it wasn’t haunted,” Melinda answered dryly, trying to ignore her best friend Zach’s persistent moaning, “Give it up, alright? I don’t care whether the place is haunted or not, I’m just not going to some weird abandoned place in the middle of the night – and especially not because of some dare by that bimbo Mandy... and stop laughing at me! You shouldn’t either – it probably isn’t safe.”
“Oh, but you've GOT TO! 'Haunted House' just screams fun!" Zach laughed, as Melinda leaned over her work in a futile attempt to block his voice out.
“No... the words 'Haunted House' scream don't go within ten miles of it after dark!” came Melinda's exasperated reply, not even bothering to look up.
Zach could feel the eyes of his stern French teacher burning on the back of his neck and he lowered his voice “But -"
CRACK!!
“Monsieur Thomas! Although et may seem highly ... er what is the word for et? ’Witty’, to you making fen of your friend, I vould suggest you start with your vork for vonce, unless you vant to feel my ruler around your ed!” threatened the heavily built French teacher, her frow wrinkled in disapproval.
“Ow!” yelped Zach clutching his red cheek as she waved the ruler around vigorously to make her point, catching him on the side of the head. " I thought French women were supposed to be petit..."
She tutted and walked away, leaving Melinda and Zach to continue arguing...

It was a house of legend in town. Perhaps long ago, it had been the type of home where in the summer, grand garden parties would be held, and in the winter, it's owner would curl up in a chair beside a warm fire in the library. But now, long ago deserted, its only inhabitants were neglect and depression. Strange, deep murmurs, like a cold draft eminated from the place making your skin cold, shivering, pale.... even affecting the young girl walking this very moment up the crooked paths, looking down at the mist lingering around her ankles. She ran ashen fingers across blackened trees, keeping her gaze away from the inhabitance ahead, dragging her feet slowly behind. Sighing quietly, she look up as the mist rose upwards, higher than the house whose porch the tips of her worn shoes now pressed against, and into the empty sky. The wooden columns were crooked, deep cracks breaking through their rough and wooden surface. Clasping her hands tightly against her sides, she looked up at the all too familiar unnatural glowing, for once scared of her own kind...

"Hello, Melinda."

"Why must you always linger in the cold child..."
"My... my apologies. I was -", Melinda stuttered, darting ungracefuly into the doorway, only to find a palen arm grasping the wall by her side, blocking her way.
"Of course I knew where you were... what you were trying to prevent. But... nonetheless, the boy still aproaches..."
Melinda stared into the distance blankly, trying to hide her emotions.
"Go... I do not wish for the likes of you to linger in my sight. The Mistress shall punish you later..."
Melinda scuttled into the remains of a grand living room and took her place among the others, fixing her gaze on the dustridden floor, feeling the burn of many eyes on her neck. She vaguely registered the whispers and mutterings drifted around her until the dust was disturbed, and a door was pushed open on the other side of the room.

An unearthly chill fell upon the room as she entered. All voices hushed and movement paused, as if time itself did not dare continue its incessant journey in the presence of such a creature. She walked so gracefully that she appeared to float through those gathered, seemingly unaware of the effect her presence had on those around her as she headed for the women who had greeted Melinda at the door. Her perfect lips curved into a smile, but her porcelain white cheeks showed no hint of colour to support the gesture as she fixed an expectant gaze upon her. Her mouth opened, but no words issued forth as she pinned her with a look from her coal-black eyes. Finally, words emerged from her.

"He comes, my lady..."

BTW I changed the last chapter to get rid of the 'Hello Mistress' bit, because the lady at the door wasnt the mistress, the woman who just walked in was. Enjoy!

Zack dug his hands deeper into his pockets, listening to the moaning and creaking noises coming from the house, as it settled into the soft earth. Grass, damp from the evening fog, sneaked beneath the ends of his frayed jeans as he lingered in front of the worn steps. Cursing the day he had sliced the fingers off of his gloves, he clutched onto the splintered banister, only to feel it wobble dangerously under his grip, as he made his way up the ominously creaking steps. He raised a clenched fist and held it, waveringly over the splintered wood, before realiszing he was about to knock on the door of an abandoned house. He could not help but smirk at his stupidity, and this burst of momentum led him to grasp the tarnished brass door knob, and force his way in confidently. He stopped. Looked around the dank hallway. Listened to his footsteps pacing the tattered carpets. Heard the dull thud of the door hitting a wall. Felt the chilling, musty air hit his skin. And then he realiszed something.

The door had shut.

And he wasn't walking.

Coming soon with the promise it will be much better than the last chapter!