The moaning wind blew open the front gate to the house on 13th ave. They say that this house is haunted. The last family who lived in it died the day after they moved in. The only problem was that they couldn’t find the eldest son. Today I am going to figure out the truth. Is this house haunted? There is only one way to find out, I have to go in.

The empty, cold wind picks up the dead leaves from the gnarled branches of the old, twisted tree. The branches sway and creek in an erie harmony to the howling wind. I silently approach the decomposing front door. It swings open of its own accord, and the rusty hinges moan. I step in. The first thing I see are the dead flowers on the floor, their water long gone. I walk over to what used to be the kitchen. Rusty spoons and other utensils lay on the floor. Moldy bread sits on the counter, nibbled  on only by the rats. Next is the master bedroom. A moth-eaten blanket lays on the queen sized bed. A family picture is still on the bedside table, but it is faded beyond recognition. 
Just as I whip to walk over to the living room, I hear a creek on the stairs behind me. I turn around just in time to see a shadow of a person dart up the stairs.. I carefully walk up the stairs. Boy do I wish my friends could be here. As I get to the top, I catch a glimpse of the mysterious shadow. It darts to the left, and I pursue. When I round the corner that the shadow went around, I see it is a dead end, but the shadow is not there. I slump down in the corner defeated. Suddenly I hear a click and the wall flips over, dragging me with it. A secret room, I should have guessed it.
The room is dimly lit. There are also a lot of photos on the table in the corner, all of the dead family. Why would the shadow have these? Who is this mysterious shadow? There can only be one reasonable answer, the shadow is the eldest son.