The rain rotted roof, infested with mold and missing shingles, caved in on the Radley’s back porch. Overgrown, thick and vibrant kudzu vines wrapped endlessly around the paint peeled columns. The metal wind chime whistled as the wind swept through the dark, cloudy sky. Walking on the creaking floorboards, Jem surreptitiously snuck up to the mysterious house. With one step, his right foot collapsed into the delicately brittle steps like a crunched egg shell. Pain struck him as his curious fingers caught splinters from the wooden railing which flaked with countless layers of aged white paint. The black weathered door, riddled with deep cracks, cratered the decrepit veranda. A green patina only years could attain covered the bronze door knob.