This is a passage of a potential story for my module at uni. Based on a very real scenario I endured.
The whole house was freezing and damp. Standing on the stairs my fingers recoiled into my sleeves shrivelling in the cold. The wallpaper and paint was peeling, it looked as though it had been born with the house, a growth that was to be endured. I had the feeling nothing worked quite the way it was supposed to (or rephrase ...Nothing worked quite the way it was supposed to here) I wondered if that damp mould had taken time to execute its grip on the walls, it spread like cracks down from one corner and clung to every reachable surface it could drag itself across. I gagged at the thought of what might be lurking unseen in the air. God help me, I had yet to venture downstairs.