2 Years Ago
I stand in front of the run-down, decaying house that was once my home, situated on the outskirts of Pine Falls. It is secluded from civilization, encased by the woods. Nothing but trees. I’d asked my father when we first moved here “Why?” once, and he’d looked at me and simply said, “Because we don’t want the bad people to find us.” But the bad people did find us. And thinking about it now, it was kind of stupid to live in a house that was encased by the woods; it was an open target for werewolves.
I step up on the moldering, wooden steps to the porch. I approach the front door. I take a deep breath before touching the door handle and pushing open the door. Immediately after I step inside the house, a musty smell assaults my nose. The furniture is old and has a thick layer
