Winifred Pickle was the newest resident that inhabited Godwin Manor. She had moved there shortly after the death of it’s previous inhabitant: Belladonna Godwin. The poor old lady was found in the woods behind the ancient house, frozen in the snow.
Freddie (as she was affectionately called) vocally objected to occupying such a house. Her parents had simply ignored her. Nonsense, they called it. For them, fear of the dead was as illogical as fearing the furniture.
“After all” said Mr Pickle “are chairs not simply dead organic matter carved from dead trees?”.
It was comments like this that made Freddie question the validity of her genetic relation to such individuals.
“But a woman killed herself Daddy” pleaded Freddie as her father dragged her towards the Manor door. “There is no denying the creep factor that comes with this house” she spat as she was forced to ascend the stone steps.
Suddenly Freddie’s mother appeared behind her carrying the most unfortunate looking turquoise vase.
“Don’t say creepy Freddie” she quipped in a voice that was far too cheery for Freddie’s comfort.
Yearning for normal parents, she darted out of her fathers grasp and proceeded to rip the band-aid (so-to-speak).
As she ascended the stone stairs, a faint chill brushed past her face. It was as though small icy needles had shot through her teeth.
“Creepy indeed” she smirked. Normal children might have been afraid. Freddie however, was curious.