Once upon a time in a small, quiet neighborhood, there was a boy named Liam.

Liam lived near a big, mysterious house that stood at the end of the road. This house was

covered in a wild ivy and surrounded by an overgrown garden. It was kind of creepy and also

kind of cool because everyone in the neighborhood had a different story about who built the house

and who used to live there.

Some said it was an old mayor of the town. Others thought maybe it was a world famous architect

who would live there. Whoever it was, everyone always assumed the house was empty and everyone

was wrong.

Even though the mansion hadn't been taken care of for a long time, the grandeur

and the majesty of the house were hard not to notice, with detailed designs and giant

pillars holding up the roof, whoever built this house, whenever that was, must have spent

a lot of time and effort on it because even when it was run down, it was still kind of beautiful.

One sunny afternoon, as Liam was playing catch with his friends near the mansion, his friend

made a horrible throw. It went flying way over

Liam's head and into the yard where the mansion was. So Liam started to hop over the stone

wall that was surrounding the mansion to go look for the ball. But when he was on the wall,

he lost his balance and he fell hard onto the paving, scraping his knee.

And when his friends saw that Liam was in pain, it scared him and they ran away.

They left Liam all alone.

And as Liam sat there on the ground looking at his knee, it was the worst scrape he had ever had, and it hurt really bad.

He could see it was quickly starting to bleed.

Man, could he even walk?

...