Creepy was such a relative term, really. So the house had no proper walls. So the only dividers between rooms were thin slats nailed to the support beams, with cement-like plaster smeared between the slats. So there were so many cobwebs overhead it was impossible to tell where the ceiling joists ended, and the dangling bits of shoddy, ungrounded early twentieth century electrical wiring began. The lawn was overrun with weeds and the attic smelled a little bit like death. So what? The house wasn’t creepy, it was charming. It was full of attitude. The corpse upstairs gave it character.