I lost rock, paper, scissors so I was the unfortunate one who had to beg for unwanted items for the school bazaar from the only house in the village which everyone and his neighbour avoided.
The house itself was nothing extraordinary. The windows were dusty enough to draw on, and the front garden was much too overgrown, but the reason for avoidance was much more likely to be the old woman who rarely came out of it. If looks could kill, hers could disintegrate.
I knocked twice and my knuckles turned grey.
I was hoping the door would stay closed, but it opened to reveal a woman with matted snow coloured hair and lips pursed into a paper...