The dark façade of the old manor house loomed above the weed-filled garden, once the pride of its time. Once upon a time, it had been a cheerful, well-loved place; that had ended with the tragic death of its first owner. From there it had become the source of a vicious battle of inheritance among heirs, the site of a long drawn war of both blood and ink. When the dust finally settled, an unexpected victor had emerged, and that was when the truly dark history of the house began. The brightly painted walls hid the dark acts conducted within, which only ended when the new owner had been tried and hanged for his crimes. After that, the place was abandoned and no one dared speak of those years. Few of the locals dared venture near, even at high noon; none at all, once the sun began to sink below the horizon. And yet, there was something about the place that seemed to draw the unwary. Something that made travellers want to walk its chilly halls, lingering well after the last rays of the sun disappeared from the Earth. The locals warned each of them of the danger, but few ever listened. Those that ignored the warning were never seen again, the only sign of their passage, a new coat of paint on the red, red front door that always seemed to appear after the arrival of a new visitor. No one ever bothered investigating the disappearances; there was no point. Everyone knew what had happened. There was something very hungry about that old house. But you could always tell when it had been fed. Entry for 2024 Halloween Contest