CHAPTER 11 Queen-Anne

As we approached the house, a musty odor filled the air, assaulting our senses with the pungent scent of wet wood and decay. It was a smell that clung to the very fabric of the house, permeating every corner and crevice with its earthy aroma. The front door creaked open with a protesting groan, revealing a dimly lit interior shrouded in shadows. As we stepped inside, the scent of dampness grew stronger, mingling with the musty air to create an atmosphere that was heavy with foreboding. The floorboards beneath our feet creaked with each step, their once-polished surfaces now warped and weathered with age. The walls were adorned with peeling wallpaper, its faded patterns barely visible beneath layers of dust and grime. The furniture in the foyer was draped in dusty sheets, their shapes obscured by years of neglect. A grand staircase rose before us, its banisters worn smooth by the passage of time, while cobwebs hung like veils from the ceiling, swaying gently in the stale air. As we