Frozen In Time #WUWritingPrompt

The windows were crazed by icy lines as if a spider had gone hyperactive and spun it’s web madly. Frost lay inside the house as well as out, showing that this place had long been abandoned to nature.

My breath fogged before my face and I had cover my mouth and nose with my scarf. Dust lay thick and a crumbled calendar on the wall was dated ten years ago.

I didn’t fear the homeless, drug users or anyone else who might be here because the house wasn’t suitable. It was colder then outside and the water was frozen in the pipes. Plus, this house was far from anywhere else. My guess was it could have been the game keeper’s home from what had once been a big estate before the land had been sold off for the building of new houses.

I photographed what interested me, taking my time and enjoying this experience of untouched urban exploring.

A lone mug stood on the windowsill as if someone had been drinking tea whilst looking out at the winter snowstorm. I captured that moment feeling like it summed up the atmosphere in the house.

 

(Inspired by; https://writersuniteweb.wordpress.com/2020/01/06/enzo-stephens-just-stay-home/ with thanks).

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Kettle #FridayFictioneers

Relics of the past reminded me that no one had lived in this house for sixty-odd years. It was like a time capsule, frozen forever in a single moment.

I would have liked to have know what had happened here. Why had everything been left behind? Where were the owners? But those answers were long gone.

I took photos, documenting everything because despite this museum likeness, I knew it wouldn’t last. Vandals, burglars and homeless people would eventually find the house then the silence would be broken.

All would be lost to time as it should be.

 

(Inspired by;  https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/06/12/14-june-2019/ with thanks).

Remaining #3LineTales

He liked how the light and shadows mingled together, he took a photo of the hallway. He wasn’t scared to be alone in the abandoned house, it interested him and he found a strange peace a way from the world. Still, he got a feeling that something wasn’t right…

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/09/13/three-line-tales-week-137/ with thanks).

 

The Town That Was Lost To Time

The small mining town had been built by hard working men for themselves and their families. Prosperity filled the buildings, laughter filled the streets and everything was just like any other town for many years. Then the coal and money began to run out, forcing people to find work else where and leave their homes.

With time, all the buildings become empty. For years, they sat alone until explorers came to see them. The new people found things pretty much as they had been left, as if the owners had just gone on holiday. Though, it was clear those people were never coming back.

The explorers’ photos and word of mouth spread and more people came to view the abandoned town. Things long untouched gotten taken, people left their different marks and the buildings deteriorated further. That though just made interested parties visit more often but they too added to the destruction.

At last, the ghost town crumbled and nature reclaimed the land. Visitors stopped coming and what little reminded of the buildings was left alone. And where once a happy, working town had stood there become nothing but the passage of time.

Rant #SundayWritingPrompt

I wasn’t sure what had happened in the kitchen of the abandoned house. It was clear someone had emptied all the cupboards and sent everything tumbling to the floor. Broken plates crunched under my boots, it was unavoidable if I wanted to walk across.

Perhaps, someone was looking for treasure they believed had been hidden here? Maybe it was just mindless destruction of youths?

Whatever had happened I hated it with a passion. Why did people have to destroy everything? I liked things left as they had been, it give a much better picture of the last people here.

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/21/sunday-writing-prompt-238-rant/ with thanks).

Slender Part 2

Grey light filtered into what had once been a kitchen. My torch light bounced off half opened floor and wall cupboards. I shuffled in, tucked my torch between my legs and took a few photos. Looking around further, I noticed the gaps were a stove and sink would have been. With a quick search of the cupboards, I found them all empty and nothing else in the room give me any clues of personal items or dates.

Another door, opposite the one I had come in by, filled the fourth wall. I walked over, unable to stop my feet making soft slapping sounds on the rotting plastic tiled floor. I opened the door, my mind racing images of what could be on the other side. Luckily, there was nothing but a long empty hallway, with doors placed up one side and a wide staircase along the other.

I shone my torch around and noticed the abrupt silence surrounding me. I raised my camera, took a few photos and had a brief look through them. The last one caused me to pause. There seemed to a long dark shadow standing at the end of the hall. I brought my torch up and aimed the beam down towards the front door. Nothing caught the light. I took another photo and checked it, but the shadow wasn’t there.

A spike of fear electrified my skin and I struggled to hold my ground. I swallowed, wet my lips and croaked out an ‘Hello?’ The house swallowed my words and didn’t reply. I tried again, getting my throat and lips more wet, projecting my voice so I was almost shouting out the word. This time a small echo came back to me.

Shaking myself, I took another few photos and saw that there was nothing odd about them. I tried the handle of the first door to my right. It gave easily and the door opened. The room was empty and once again grey light was coming in from a dirty window. I took a photo of that and some more of the bare wooden floor, wallpaper peeling walls and cracked ceiling. I laughed to myself and wondered why I had gotten so scared of what had to be just a trick of light.

I walked through the other three rooms and found them almost all the same as the wallpaper and ceiling colours differed. I fell back to enjoying the experience and walking were no one else had been for many years. I took my last photo of the last room and got the open door and beginnings of the staircase in the shot. I noticed a shadow like arm just visible at the left side of the open door. My heart skipped, I stopped breathing and looked nervously upwards.

The darkness beyond the door looked like sticky molasses. I couldn’t see out of it, let alone pick out any shapes. Slowly, I put my torch on the floor, with the light beam angled out of the door and along the bottom of the staircase. I fixed the shot with my camera and pressed down the button. Flash and the image appeared on the screen. There were no shadow arms only the eerie effect of the torch’s beam along the floor.

Laughing loudly, I let the fear out. It’s nothing, nothing, I sing in my head. How many abandoned places had I been in alone? Thirty? Fifty? How many farm houses like this one? Twelve? And in all my ten years of exploring these places what had I found? Dead animals, homeless people, abandoned personal items and unsolved mysteries. Never ghosts. I had never seen, heard or captured anything that could be classed as a ghost. Nor had any companion that had come with me to the other places.

‘So why would you be in this place?’ I spoke out before bursting into another rolling laugh.

I felt better and walked into the hallway. I grab a few more photos of the locked front door and the staircase before heading up. The steps squeaked, but held my weight as I went up. The bedrooms were all like the rooms downstairs and I felt a slight disappointment that the whole place had been cleaned out. Coming out of the last room, I spotted the door to the attic that I’d missed.

Smiling, I hurried over. People always leave things behind in attics and basements. I opened the door and walked up a narrow staircase, which ended in another door. Avoiding the mass of spiders’ webs, I stepped in and slowly shone my torch around. A shiver ran through me as I took in the scene before me. It had been a children’s playroom and everything had been left behind. Toys, covered in dust were scattered across the floor as well as books and over full boxes of other toys.

With my hands slight shaking, I took a few photos that captured everything. Looking at the last one, I noticed the children’s drawings on the wall. In coal pencil was the figure of a long stickman. Frowning, I looked up and focused on the walls. All three of them were covered in the black pencil and paint drawings of that stickman. In some case there were bare pine trees around him, a house in the background and a scrawling of words.

My hairs stood on end and a voice screamed loudly in my head to leave. Hurriedly, I took a circle of photos just of the walls, trying to miss anything out then fled. My slamming footsteps and gasping breath ring in my ears, sweat ran down me like heavy drops of rain. I stumbled out of the back door, almost falling onto the porch but finding balance enough to rush into the grass and past the rusted car. My feet collided with something and I tumbled over. Fighting for breath, I looked down and saw the box brownie camera.

Snatching it up, I ran for my car. I scrambled for my keys, jabbed the right one into the car door and yanked it open. Flinging myself into the driving seat, the brownie slipped from my hand and fell into the passenger’s footwell. Ripping my own camera from my neck, I placed it down there too and started the car up.

The engine spring to life, I wrestled to put my seat belt on and then without really meaning too, I looked up at the house and the attic room window.  A stick shadow figure was pressed against the glass looking out at me.

To Be Continued…

Slender Part 1

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…

Empty Staircases

There was something that fascinated him about abandoned staircases. He raised his heavy eyes from the camera’s primary screen and looked up the long twisting steps which connected all four floors of the house. He peered up into the crevice gap between each flight of stairs, but couldn’t see the fourth floor.

Slowly, he put a foot on the first step then began the climb upwards. Only his sounds broke the shrouded of silence that covered the house and the surrounding city. He came to the first floor, but carried up towards the second. There was a floor to ceiling window ahead of him that was letting in toxic light. He went to the window and took a photo through the glass panels.

The south side of the city, which was mostly urban sprawl, was spread out opposite him. Abandoned house, much like the one he was standing in now, rose up from the dust as if still trying to dignify their existence. Beyond, he could see the metal skyscrapers and other tall buildings sat at the city centre’s edge.

Dimly, he was aware of his companions moving through some of the other houses. He had turned down the radio in his mask as he had entered, blocking out the voices coming into his ears. A shadow figure appeared and disappeared in the window of the opposite house. He turned away and carried on up.

Why was he so haunted by staircases? Maybe, it was because they belong to The Before and The After, whilst The Now had none. That thought spiralled with him as he reached the top. He took a few photos, then a final one which looked down all of the connecting stairs. The image displayed on the screen, he looked at it and decided that the true answer must be the lack of human life.

Obsession

As Harry entered the abandoned church, he readied his camera to take some more photos. He did a quick walk through before he started clicking away. The church, like the rest of the buildings in the deserted town, was still in okay condition. Though, if it hadn’t have been for the sign above the door he never would have guessed that this empty oblong shape was a church.

Harry examined the photos and noticed a door far to his left. Going over and thinking nothing about it, he opened the door. He shone his torch inside and raised the camera in his other hand. Getting ready to take a photo, what he saw before him sunk in fully.

There was a sleeping bag on the floor with a scattered pile of adult magazines on top of it. All four walls were covered in graffiti scrawled words that wrapped around torn out pages and women’s underwear.

The breath caught in his throat and his finger slipped of the shutter button. In all his years of urban exploring Harry had never seen anything like this before. With a quick glance behind him, he shuffled further into the room and inspected the walls more closely.

It seemed everything had been written in the same hand and recorded the story of each piece of underwear. Some were declared to have been found or stolen, with a place and date added in. Other items though… He couldn’t help but read the story of the pink thong. Though he tried hard not to let his eyes drift to the next line, but he was too drawn in.

Not sure what else to do, he took a few different photos of the room and then some closer shots of the wall. I’ll have to phone the police, Harry thought, I don’t know what I’ll tell them though.

A soft whistling caught his attention. Harry hurried from the room as quietly as he could and shut the door behind him. Moving away, he walked into the middle of the room and took a photo of the doorway. He could hear footsteps too now and he was strongly aware that he was no longer alone.

Keeping his eyes on the door, he watched a very tall and skinny man step into the church. The man stopped, spotting Harry instantly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said politely, ‘I’m just taking a few photos. Abandon buildings fascinate me. I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know anyone was here.’

‘Have you been here long?’ the man asked with a slight edge to his words.

‘No, no. Just a few minutes. Do you…are you staying here?’ Harry enquired as he eyed up the man’s hiking rucksack.

The man nodded.

‘Ah, okay. I’ll leave then. So sorry,’ Harry gushed out and made to leave.

‘You didn’t…?’ the man began.

Harry stopped his eyes from shooting over to the door and fixed a frown on his face.

‘Touch anything?’ came the conclusion.

‘No. I try to avoid doing so. I like things just as they were left or has nature made it,’ Harry explained, ‘I’ll go then.’

Harry moved forward, clicking off his torch and letting his camera settle around his neck. He came a few steps away from the man and stopped as he was blocking the doorway. Harry felt small sweat drops on his head and the tension rising. He wet his lips and thought of something to say.

‘You got any smokes?’ the man asked.

Harry shook his head fast, ‘No. I don’t smoke. Sorry. I’ve not got much money on me either. I just came down for the afternoon,’ Harry added as he began to rummage in his pockets.

The man eyed him up and Harry tried to put his face and clothes into his memory bank. The man was a lot younger then he seemed, late twenties. He had feather black hair and a long sad looking face. He was wearing dirty leather boots, jeans and a grey t-shirt.

Harry pulled out his wallet and offered the man five dollars.

‘Where are you from?’ the man asked.

‘England,’ Harry responded, ‘but I have American cousins. I’m over here visiting them and doing some…sightseeing and this.’

The man took the note and tucked it away.

‘It was nice to meet you. Sorry to intrude, again.’

This time the man stepped to the side and Harry was able to walk through the door. Out in the fresh air again, he hurried back to his car. Getting in and locking the doors, he was about to look though his photos once again, when he felt eyes upon him. Glancing up he saw the man watching him from the church’s doorway.

Placing the camera down, Harry smiled and waved before starting the engine up. Driving away from Cuervo, Harry pondered what to do. He was still wondering as he entered Santa Rosa and found a restaurant to stop in. I’ll have to report it, he officially decided. He got out, used the rest room and ordered some food.

He sipped some black coffee as he waited and looked out of the window. He had brought his camera in with him and he decided that he would look through the photos again. Ignoring the noise of the bar ‘n’ grill, he looked though the last few photos he had taken and the need to do something grew stronger.

When the waitress came back around with his food, he asked her if there was a phone he could use. Luckily, there was a public one oddly located next to an old jukebox. After he had finished, he phoned and tried not to make a big deal out of it. He met the police in the carpark and showed them the photos.

Interested, they got him to drive them back to Cuervo. He parked up and stayed in the car as they went in. Minutes later, they came to get him and he went into the building with them. The room at the back was empty, but for a few loose photos of pinup girls.