I stand at the old rustic doorbell weeping.

I say to myself “this is all that’s left of what burned down.” 

I ring it, nothing happens. Then I hear a faint noise ‘ring-ring’. 

My face turns pale. I think to myself, how does the doorbell still worK? 

I open the door slowly and see nothing, but then out of the corner of my eye I see a little homeless girl, hiding just behind the door. Reaching out my hand, I realise she’s not really here, it’s just a ghost.

 “What? How? When?” 

I run fast, faster than I have before…

MITCHELL = YEAR 7