Answer:
The old house creaked and groaned like a ship lost at sea. The paint on the walls was peeling like a sunburnt tourist, revealing the decaying wood underneath. The furniture was like ghosts, remnants of a past life that still haunted the empty rooms. As I walked through the abandoned halls, I felt like a trespasser in a forgotten world, tiptoeing through a graveyard of memories. The memories were like cobwebs, clinging to every surface and obscuring the present. The old house was a time capsule, frozen in time like a photograph, a relic of a bygone era.