John humored the idea that someone was home as he knocked on the door of the old Bridge Bury house. He slammed the old brass knocker into the wood 3 times. Knock! Knock! Knock!

Everyone knew this place had been abandoned 20 odd years ago. He would know best, having lived next door for the last 15, but he went the through motions anyhow.

“Perhaps there was a squatter,” he thought, “or maybe a realtor trying to pawn this pile of crap off onto some other poor sap.”

Anything to explain the strange voices he had heard the night before.

He wiped the layers of grime off the window and cupped his hands around his face as he peered inside.