Here is my opening paragraph to a new story I’m working on. Let me know what you guys think 🙂
Since then they have cut down the trees behind the house. The grey, eroded bricks now glistened exposed to the autumn sunlight. The misshapen moss weaved around the house like a giant hand, clasping all the horrors in its dark green palm. Behind this tangled moss stood a house so full of tragedy and deceit that nobody daren’t venture into it. One girl did. A curious girl of fifteen found the address scrawled on the back of an old photo in a dusty family album. The photo, yellow and crumpled at the edges showed three women in their twenties, Mrs Tabour, Mrs Emmit and Mrs Green. The journey from when this photo was taken to the present day is a terribly tragic and a melancholy one. It all started in 1922.