The "To-let" scribbled messily on the facade drew attention. The building was mired in shadows, even in bright day light. The place had definitely seen better days. The weed-grown yard of the derelict, perhaps it missed the hands that had tended rose-beds. The red skin scraped off by the claws of green moss. The gaping hollows in place of doors and windows. The soul and skeleton bared. The classic, and if I am not mistaken, British flavor of the frontage. Abandoned. Forsaken. I am told the place is jinxed. Misfortune has befallen various owners. The "To-let" slapped in sheer mockery.