The old Blackwood Manor was totally spooky, sitting on a huge hill under a creepy, gray sky. The house itself was a crumbling mess of dark, almost black wood and stone, with bits of blood-red paint peeling off the rickety porch rails. The lawn was a disaster—just patches of dead, dull brown grass mixed with thick, thorny patches of dark green ivy that was crawling all over the walls like giant spiderwebs. A few skinny, dead-looking silver-gray trees stood around with their twisted branches reaching up like scary hands, and the only other color was the sickly, pale yellow light flickering out of one broken attic window, which made you think a ghost was totally staring right at you. See more