She stares up at the dark, dank, abandoned house. She'll show them all.
'I can do this,' She thinks to herself, turning around to face her so-called friends, who shout and jeer by the broken, rusted gate. She slaps on a sneer and turns around to face the old wooden door, she lies a shaking hand on the handle, turns it, and shoves the door open. It groans and creaks in protest, but gives way.
She enters the house, the smell of decay and neglect hits her in the face. It's so strong she chokes and covers her mouth and nose, gripping her overnight bag so tightly her knuckles turn white, she stalks down the short, narrow hallway - noting the peeling wallpaper, the watermarks and stained, dusty carpet while walking up the rotting stairs.
On the landing, she looks through the dusty, grime thick window down at her "friends" as they turn around, walk over to their bike's, get on them and cycle away back to their comfortable homes. Leaving her bike, much like herself, all alone.
She searches the first floor and contents herself with the least dilapedated room. While she drops her bag to the floor and takes out her belongings she thinks back to why she accepted this ridiculous dare.

There had been five of them, three boys and two girls, hanging around their usual haunting ground - the park - and they were bored out of their minds. The youngest out of their small gang was she, Hannah Elsby, at 15.
At 16, Alex Banks was bored easily, short-tempered, very "persuasive" and the oldest of their gang - kind of making him the leader. Hannah got on well with the guy, but being the youngest - she was picked on the most out of all. She didn't really mind it, they weren't being serious. But today was going to be different.
"I'm bored," Said Alex, not really surprising anyone with the statement, "What're we gonna do today?"
The rest of them shrugged their shoulders as one and thought in silence. Alex grinned at them all, having probably though of one before they'd even all arrived at the park,
"Why don't we go and visit that old haunted house tonight?" He spoke to everyone, but stared directly at Hannah. She gulped.

So here she is, after further discussion and a lot of shouting of the word "COWARD," She's sitting in this hellhole, her parents think she's going to spend the night at Rachel Fleming's house (the one other girl in the gang), so they're not bothered about what Hannah will be doing tonight.
She changes into her pyjamas and folds her clothes to make a pillow for her head for when she gets into her sleeping bag.
Keeping her socks on, she creeps over to the grimy window and stares up at the darkening sky.
The clouds are slowly knitting together, like friends huddling together to make up a devious plan. The menacing blanket of clouds cover the sky, blotting out the twinkling stars. Hannah shivers. A storm was coming. She hates storms! She doesn't mind the lightning, which is weird as that's the thing that can do the most damage. No, the thing she hates is thunder. It's so loud and deafening it feels like an angry god screaming in your ears, declaring war on the world. A war that humans will always lose....
Shaking the formidable thought from her head, she snuggles down in her sleeping bag, surrounded by sweets and drinks. Torch in one hand, lucky charm in the other. She's not usually superstitious, but this house was making her paranoid.
After counting thousands of sheeps, and losing count about five times, her eyelids slowly shut and she drifts off into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

She wakes suddenly to the sounds of howling winds, lightning and roaring thunder. The wind whistles through the house like a pack of hungry dogs. Terrified, she slithers deeper into her sleeping bag and holds onto her lucky charm tightly 'til it's design is imprinted into her shaking hand. Praying to the Gods (even though she's not religious) that she'll be ok and telling herself she'll wake up in the morning laughing, she's so caught up in these thoughts that she's unaware that the storm has mysteriously died down. When she becomes aware of the eerie silence, she timidly peers over the covers of her sleeping bag. She looks around the room, but her eyes lock on the door.

Slowly....it....creaks....open....

Terror grips her with it's cold, clammy hands, heart pounding in her ears and breaking out in a cold sweat she stares with wide eyes at the door. Nothing enters through it. It's then that she remembers what supposedly inhabits this house....

....The story goes that fifty years ago, a teenage girl (the same age as Hannah, which freezes her soul as she thinks about it) was murdered here. Nobody found who did it, and they never found her body. All they know is her name.

Annabell Goldfield

Blood screaming through her veins, Hannah gingerly slips out of the sleeping bag and creeps over to the door. Holding her breath, she sticks her head round the door.
A shadow flickers in the corner of her eye, she jumps and turns her head to face the stairs and, below that, the hallway. A doorway seems to materialiase in the wall, Hannah shakes her head - she probably ignored it on the way up without realising.
She collects a torch and creeps down the stairs, even though every inch of her body is aching to run away out of the house. Ignoring the worried voice in her head, she opens the door and it obliges without a sound.
The room behind the door is empty, no furniture - and, no shadowy figures. Hannah takes a couple of steps forward, and then everything turns black. The only thing she hears before she falls to the ground unconscious, is a high pitched voice giggling in her ear.
"We're going to be great friends Hannah! I'll make sure of it, you'll never leave me will you?"

"Where is she?" Asks Rachel, worry growing in her stomach.
She and Alex had been waiting just over half an hour for Hannah to emerge from the house, triumphant. The sun had risen a few hours ago.
Alex shrugs, "Maybe she ran home? If you're so worried we'll go in and look for her."
They walk up to the abandoned house and enter, they go up the stairs to find an empty sleeping bag, a lucky charm, packets of sweets and empty juice cans. Alex shares a look with Rachel, curiousity and a bubble of fear rising within him. They search the rest of the first floor to find nothing else, they run down the stairs in panic.
"Where the hell is she?" Asks Alex, back facing the wall.
Rachel frowns, "That door wasn't there before - was it?"
"What door?" Alex turns around and gasps, "It's come out of nowhere!"
They don't need to say anything else, they both have a gut feeling that Hannah's behind this door. So they open it and go inside, at first glance the room appears empty but then a slight movement catches Alex's eyes and he turns to face it.
There in the corner, was a figure curled up and facing the opposite way.
"Holy crap, Hannah - we thought we'd lost you!" Sighs Alex in relief, walking over and bending down. Hannah gives no indication that she heard him, "Hannah? Come on - you did it, you can go now."
Alex taps her on the shoulder, and she falls over on to the floor. She stares wordlessly up at him with cloudy eyes, crimson tears of blood flow freely. She opens her mouth to speak her last words, but blood fills her throat and she gurgles helplessly.
Then all goes still, her body heaves a sigh and the blood bursts from her throat. In terror, Alex and Rachel run screaming from the house.

At least now they really do know that it's haunted. I've been lonely for so long, fifty years in fact. Now that I have Hannah, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends! Shame her friends never stuck around, we could have been a cool little gang.
Oh well, at least I, Annabell Goldfield, have a playmate for the rest of eternity. I hope Hannah likes dolls, I never really did grow out of them.