Spooky Room!

Our box room was haunted.
No, it was. Honest.
Small, creepy and full of junk.
My sister and I were convinced that the weird scary stuff that happened in that Victorian semi radiated from that hub, that evil heart of the house.
There were the Prague marionette puppets that hung from our shared bedroom lofty ceiling. A grinning clown and a green witch straight from the Wizard of Oz. ( Clownie and Witchy-Poo, named with the creative genius that comes with childhood.) Strangling each other by night and all tangled up in the morning. There was the distinctive rustling of skirts we heard from the dark confines of  'under the duvet'. Televisions coming on in the night. Creeping footsteps creaking across the landing. Wolf shadows on the wall. A plate sized giant spider that terrorized my little brother by running up his leg. It hid till the end of Starsky and Hutch when it decided to jump and attack us as we went upstairs to bed. The animal lover that I am, I subsequently bashed it with my shoe and put it down the drain in the garden. Beware Liverpool, it's still down there somewhere.
We blamed it all on that little room with the old brass doorknob at the top of the stairs.
So much so, that, enterprising budding little Alan Sugars that we were, we decided to open our 'Spooky Room' to the general public.
Advertising flyers designed and placards with directing arrows in our hands, we sat patiently by the kerb for our first punters. Needless to say, we were a flop.
Some years later, in my slightly more grown-up adolescence, I was awarded my very own bedroom.
You've guessed it. I inherited the Spooky Room and no amount of pink paint could eradicate how pitch dark it was in the middle of the night.

P.S.Some people say there is no such thing as coincidence. Look below...

We put on Cloverfield from our planner, randomly. Look at the clocks. Goosebumps!