The allure of an old abandoned house pulls me. Broken concrete stairs no longer attached to the foundation, the fully intact glass door reflecting my figure back at me, just next to the gagged broken window, the metal doors to the cellar stairs closed until I peak, revealing a black hole…

Pieces of crockery and bits of loose linoleum trip my feet as I explore. Creaking stairs, moth ridden curtains, a broken step ladder, the funny collection of old Pepsi bottles, crooked medicine chest dangling on the wall, West Virginia vanity plates over a doorway, bones of what appeared to be a deer in the overgrown bushes…curiosity and fear; treasure hunt and adrenaline rush. I drive past these relics 30, 40, 50 times then one day, knowing they will soon be gone, something makes me stop.

I’m as much afraid of what I’ll find inside as I am of being found inside. But still, on that day…I’m going in.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.