You come to the top of the driveway. The house, a two-story Victorian, looms above you with forboding, boarded up windows and creaking shutters. From the tower above, you can hear the rustling of drapes through a broken-out window. The air here is strangely silent, and the birds cannot be heard.
The driveway stretches out to the west, towards the road. You can see a dilapidated mailbox standing at the curb.
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