Living quietly in the house on the corner of Livindwood St, there was a noise. This was no ordinary noise of the trees swaying, the leaves whistling, or the bead creaking. The noise that came out now was the front door.
Slowly creeping down the stairs, I did not want the evil beast in my house now to run away; I wanted to catch him. With every step, the creaking in the wooden floors seemed to get louder. Sep after step, he got closer to the refrigerator, where he heard the noise. Boom! Something crashed down from the top shelf. I couldn't take it any longer. I ran into the kitchen just to find my best friend searching through my food… "are you crazy?! Its four o'clock in the morning!" From that day on, my friend asked ever time before he came into my house and I have never had to go downstairs in the night ever again.
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