Pulling up outside the abandoned house, I turned off my engine and got my first proper look. The house was old, typical wooden board American farm house, but looked still intact. I grabbed my camera and keys before I slipped out of the car. Closing and locking the car, I put my keys into my jeans pocket and slipped my camera strap around my neck. Tucking my longish hair out from underneath, I felt the slight chill of summer’s last day. I zipped up my heavy cotton jacket and double checked I had everything.
I turned on my camera and started exploring. The nature was thick around the house with the grass growing up to the windows and dead black trees trying to block it from view. I walked around the house, snapping photos and stealing quick glancing to make sure they looked right. I reached the back area and spotted a rust car almost buried by the grass. My breath caught in my throat and I hurried over.
The car was nothing fancy, just a standard Ford from the forties. I took a few photos, admiring the rust and strangely imagining that when the car had been parked up for the last time it hadn’t realised it had just had its last run. I stepped backwards with the long grass whipping around me and my foot hit something.
Freezing, I took a great photo of the car, tree and abandoned house. Then I looked down and saw a leather box. Juggling my stuff, I picked it up and discovered it to be a box brownie camera. Smiling and laughing, I turned it over a few times and looked closely at it. Surprisingly, it seemed to be in good shape. I went to put it down again, the Urban Explorer’s code sounding off in my head. It touched the grass and my fingers wouldn’t let it go. Frowning, I placed it on the floor then let go, but I couldn’t do it. I knelt down and pulled my hand off it. Standing up, I quickly walked away and on to the porch of the house. Turning, I looked back and oddly felt the brownie calling to me, even though I could no longer see it in the grass.
Shaking my head, I twisted back and pushed open the worn wooden door. A loud creaking, that sounded like the house screaming, signalled my entrance. Peering inside, it was pitch black. I switched my flash on and took a photo. Blinking away the sudden blindness, I looked at the camera screen and saw nothing but two wooden walls and a doorway leading out of the small mud room.
I dug my torch out and clicked it on. Hoping that there was some natural light in the other rooms, I gingerly stepped on the floor. The boards creaked, but held my weight. I took a few more steps then walked firmly across towards the door. I grabbed the door knob and twisted it open in a single movement.
To Be Continued…