HAUNTED HOUSE

The old house stood at the end of Maple Street, hidden behind tall, tangled grass and dark, overgrown trees. Its paint had faded to gray, windows were broken like hollow eyes, and the wooden gate creaked loudly even when there was no wind. People in the village called it "The Haunted House" and told children never to go near it.

One rainy afternoon, ten-year-old Leo and his friend Rina were playing nearby. When their ball rolled straight through the broken fence, Leo stopped. "We can't go there," Rina whispered, pulling his arm. "Everyone says ghosts live there."

Leo looked at the dark house. "Ghosts aren't real," he said, though his hands felt cold. "We just need our ball."

They stepped carefully through the grass. The air smelled of wet earth and old wood. As they reached the porch, a low, moaning sound came from inside. Rina hid behind Leo. "Did you hear that?"

Leo took a deep breath and pus...