Author's Note: I'm following Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine, and so the first line of this is from that book and the rest I wrote! Oh, I'm SO happy with this story! Enjoy!

It was a witchy house. The low slung roof, that quiet gray paint; those squinting, shuttered windows, and the empty porch rocker that rocked, rocked, rocked day and night.
No one ever dared to go within five-hundred feet of it, until Ella Grace White moved in.
It was a cool February Sunday. The air was humid from yesterday’s rain and the clouds still remained in the sky. A breeze sent light goosebumps up Ella Grace’s skin. The nine year old shuddered and rubbed her arms vigorously. “Why didn’t I bring a jacket?” she asked herself. She had originally thought it was a lovely, mid-sixties day to go for a leisurely stroll, until she was halfway around the neighborhood.
Ella Grace returned to walking for merely a small few strides before stopping at an old Victorian home. “Wow,” she said aloud, staring open-mouthed at the large house.
The breeze quieted as she studied the house, but the rocking chair didn’t stop rocking. Ella Grace furrowed her brow and took cautious step closer to the iron gate. Wind blew hard at the girl and she screamed as it sent her back, slinging her easily to the street’s pavement.
It quieted once she was on the ground, but she could still not take her eyes off of the house. She rose to her feet and dusted off her khaki-jeans and noticed a stinging scrape on her elbow, but was otherwise unharmed.
The foolish girl made her way slowly to the gate, thinking the wind was merely a fluke. And it let her lay her hand on the gate. It was cold and somewhat wet, with intricate twists and designs that a nine year old adventure-seeking girl did not pay attention to.
She beamed as she fumbled with the latch and opened the gate, entering the littered yard. The rocker still rocked though the air was still and quiet. Ella Grace looked around the yard surrounding the house. No one appeared to be living here anymore.
Suddenly, she felt the impulse to go in the house. Part of her knew it was wrong, but the adventurous part felt the need. That is, before she heard a gravelly, weak voice say, “Get out. Now.”
“Huh?” Ella Grace said, whirling around to see a pale old lady. Ella Grace screamed. The lady looked like she was a hundred and fifty years old! Her back was hunched over and her hair was white and untamed. Where could she have come from? Ella Grace didn’t know and she didn’t care as the lady yelled, “Get out. NOW!”
Ella Grace had already started running when the winds picked her up and shoved her out. Ella Grace screamed and struggled as the wind threw her to the hard, wet pavement.
She struggled to her feet and ran away, back to her house, now knowing never to come close to that witch house again.