The small, excitable corgi chases after the colourful butterfly, to a door that makes said butterfly stand out immensely. It is almost pitch black, with specks of browns and greys given by dust, which could easily have spent eras accumulating.

I run, against the blazing heat of today's sun, until I notice the dog I'm walking has somehow got into a house when I wasn't looking. It now seems that I won't be getting any more money as a dog walker this summer. I cast my eyes up, with a sigh. And when I see where the dog went, it's enough for me to spit out a curse word or two.

I've come to the infamous House of Ingram. Sure, it was just a myth I'd heard about this house. One that kids simply told to scare each other by candle light.

The story goes that Mrs Ingram was a widowed woman, who was so struck with grief that she died, and that as a ghost she, to this day, roams the abandoned stately home and takes trespassers down with her. People that are stupid enough to go in don't ever come out.

But I don't believe in superstition. I don't believe in ghosts, I don't give a second thought before walking under a ladder, breaking a mirror or opening an umbrella indoors. And now I feel very intrigued, so I walk into the house.

Every step I take, the sweltering summer heat turns colder, and once I find myself in the foyer, I hear the door slam shut behind me. I walk further, up a marble staircase directly in front of me. The silence feels almost loud. I know I am alone, but things around me seem to all have a kind of presence - and it is very, very creepy. Wallpaper peels off of the walls, which are cracked and abandoned. The pictures hung on these walls seem to be watching you in a way. And furniture and ornaments don't seem as inanimate as it is obvious for them to be.

As the small whistling noise around me grows louder, and my pulse heightens, I find myself at the top of the stairs. I then remember what I'm actually here for. I open my bag, finding half a pack of dog treats.

"Winston! Winston! Come here boy!" I shake the packet, to no avail. I notice my voice has become shakier than I've ever heard it. I am still as alone as before, or am I?

I feel the wind again. It shakes a broken chandelier above my head, and then the blow stops. I sigh in relief, but that's before it starts again. The fancy ornaments swirl around too, before shattering into pieces on the floor.

I try and reassure myself by thinking it must just be a very windy day now. Maybe the steaming heat of earlier stopped. How long have I been here anyway?

But then I notice something else. The dust is getting caught up in whatever this wind is, and forming a shape. The chandelier has fallen and smashed on the floor now and I am already scared for my life. The form of dust is changing into what can only be some kind of spirit.

My instinct is to now try and get out. I bang on the window adjacent, while searching for some kind of lock. Behind me I hear more smashing, and of course the wind. Even with all of my weight on the window, it is sealed shut.

I begin to scream, but after I decide the window is never going to open, I plan to head for the stairs and get out through the front door. However, when I turn around, I realise what, or rather who is here.

The dust has shaped into a soulless woman. Her hair is into a tight bun, and what must have been her expression is smiling at me. Everything I fear, and everything I now fear is right in front of me. And I hear words, that must come from her. Mrs Ingram.

"I think it's time you come with me."