The shouting almost deafened every ear that was contended to hear it. Every child in each bed, which was about twenty, of the same room that had one window and plenty of book shelves covered their ears as they heard Miss Jane Hamilton, who was the head of this orphanage manor, speaking her voice in an astoundingly loud execution that all of the children who usually thought of her as nothing more than a strict stuck up were now in genuine fright of her seemingly malevolent presence. Her eyes were widened in a strictly horrifying gesture, her wrinkles seemed cracked and her face as grey as the book of Frankenstein itself. She was scarier than Frankenstein. Then, peculiarly, she changed her attitude and voice with a much more welcoming approach and said "Come on everyone breakfast is ready." She said smiling. When a child opened his or her eyes at first they saw Miss Jane Hamilton with eyes widened and face strictly terrifying but now she was smiling. She seemed to have changed her state of mind very strangely but quickly. Miss Jane clapped her hands together, asked the children respectably to get up and so they listened and did in one swift motion. They all got dressed and proceeded towards the hall of the downstairs of the orphanage where breakfast was waiting. One of the children Hannah and Jane stuck fingers in their ears, put it in their food and chuckled at their cheeky behaviour, also celebrating in the fact that they could pull faces together and be tricksters with each other without being caught. Their actions were always routinely and severley absurd. It was on an everyday basis, few times at the other children's annoyance. And then it started. The first bang! "What was that Miss Jane?" a child called out. Miss Jane stared hard on the floor, almost seeming she was going to cry and then she said "Go away, upstairs!" "Miss? Are you okay?" "JUST GO UPSTAIRS YOU RAT!" They all ran upstairs to her once again shouting voice. And when they went upstairs and passed one of the rooms and noticed something very unexpectedly. The door was wide open. This door had been locked for many years and when each child when they could or if they could peered their miniscule eye to the long skinny line of the door they saw a mysteriously peculiar looking person. It was a woman with red spots all over her face, almost like chicken pox and in her hand she was holding the classic novel of Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter and she looked at the children, then looked back out the window and exclaimed "Excuse me God for I have sinned" and then her neck outstretched to an enormously horrifying size and she screamed at everyone who was staring. And then she was gone... Some children had fainted, others had a panic attack and others, well the others, all that can be said is they couldn't accept what they saw with no ounce of trauma in their bones.