Oh, hello.

Didn't see you there...

No, really, make yourself comfortable.

Can I tell you a story?

Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? Cocoa?

No?

Well, here, let me put a little something on the Victrola...





I'm sorry, where was I?

Ah, yes.

Let me just get this out of the way now:

I'm afraid of the dark. Really and truly in a way that's not funny.

I'm fine in a place I know, like my home, or in the theater. On top of that, I've got pretty good night vision, so I can maneuver pretty well in low light (which is pretty funny given that I'm very nearsighted and have astigmatism).

Still, I'm afraid of the dark. Especially if I'm alone in an empty house, with creaky floors, and squeaky doors, on a dark and stormy night.

Matter of fact, I'm terrified of the dark. I know it's silly, a twenty-nine years old man being afraid of the dark, but there you have it.

That is a big part of why I chose this task. Big empty house during the middle of a rainstorm, great way to make myself get over it.

Also, I pride myself on being a world-class sneak. I've always enjoyed a good skulk.

I like to practice moving quietly and unseen.

With this house being across the street from my landlord's living room windows I thought it might be great sneak practice as well. Sneak sneak.

I re-poke a hole in the chain-link fence, and step inside.

A little side-room has a door open to the street, this is unlocked. Getting into the main part of the house becomes difficult suddenly. I step through the little room into a long narrow hall. To my right, it yawns into a big black blot. A black blot that I can't see into; there is only the smell of damp porcelain. To my left, the hall opens into two bright doors, lit from the street lights outside. I can even see my apartment building.

I turn to the left:

I find myself first in the kitchen, and see this. The beginning of a theme of sorts for the night.

Bear in the sink.

Why were you left here, bear? In the sink. Were you dropped here on purpose?

Peeking over the sink, in a cabinet is abandoned medication in a cupboard.



Moving on to the living room area, I find one thing I don't enjoy about rain storms is the way an empty house with creaky wooden floors seems so very, very big and dark.



Every drip of rain, and every step I take seem louder and louder. Did I mention that I'm afraid of the dark?


When this house was still inhabited, sometimes I'd walk by and I would notice the big stone fireplace. I was glad to finally get a better look at it.



Our street is usually pretty quiet at 1 in morning, but traffic suddenly gets pretty thick. This house has some nice big windows, and is right on the intersection. Every time a car passes I'm sure they can see inside and I hit the floor. Approaching the big pile near the window is slow going, but I'm determined to make it to the big windows.

At the first window, I find another bear, also on it's back, next to a musty little green book.


The book I put into my pocket, so as to closer inspect later.


I belly crawl to the other window and stare out of it for a while. The view is pretty, and I'm trying to put off going to the back of the house.


As I get up to move to the back of the house, the air begins to feel thicker, and staler. Back into the hall, I find myself staring down the dark throat of the house.

I tell myself that it's going to be this dark because it's so late at night, and the big, low tree in the back yard would blot out any remaining light. Of course it's going to smell weird, it's been empty for months, and this is the first good rain.

After a few minutes of this, I make it into what turns out to be the bathroom.

I hate it.

I know I'm just scaring myself, and I remind myself of this. Being in a place where I can't rely on my sight, my sense of hearing and smell are what I have to rely on. Ear and nostril don't give me information that's comforting. My imagination is most definitely not broken.

I back away from the awful bathroom, heading back to the little exit room my feet thumping. I step into the doorway and flick off the flashlight and find myself looking right into the face of a strange woman.

She was on the street, getting out of her car, and I ducked back in the hall as she was looking up. Did she see me? I can hear her talking on the phone, it's likely she didn't hear my pontoon feet clomping up the floor. I sneak a peek around the door jamb, she's still standing next to her car. She seems to be looking up into the open door. Did she see my flashlight flick off? Is she looking into the house trying to see if she saw something? Finally, I hear her walk off, her voice trailing away, and finally disappearing.

This is too much for one night. I slink back through the chain link and head back home embarrassed.

---

No, I can't leave it unfinished like this.

Three more attempts are made to finish the documentation of this stupid, scary house. The big bully.

The first two attempts find the hole in the fence twisted firmly shut. As if it's been stitched shut. The more I work at it, the louder it jangles. It's not that late, and if I keep working at it, it's just going to grab the wrong kind of attention. This task has completely gooned me, to borrow a phrase.

Standing on the sidewalk, I stare into the dark void of the side door.

I realize why I didn't do that the first time I went in: It's scary, man! Like the house from "House". An honest to god, "great, yawning maw". Jibblies!

---

As I'm coming home in the afternoon, I notice that the hole in the fence has been stretched open again. Well, good. I can finish this after I come home from my mother's house.

12:30 A.M.:
I wrap red tissue paper around the lens of my flashlight, slip my duster back on and I'm out the door.

After I get through the fence, as I'm crossing in through the side door, I see a police cruiser drive slowly through the intersection at the other end of the block. I jump inside, and duck down in a dark corner of the little room, then slowly make my way into the kitchen.

From the kitchen, I can look out into the living room, I can see out into the street. I can see my landlord's house across the street as before. I can also see a police cruiser pull up to the intersection just outside the front window, and linger.

I pull back into the kitchen, and can hear that Crown Victoria idling outside. Did they see me step in the house? If they saw me, maybe I'll luck out and they'll think I'm just a trick of the light.

I stand there, pressed against a wall in the empty kitchen and remember a conversation my wife and I had with some neighbor ladies. The subject turned to this abandoned house, and they mentioned that this house had recently turned into a hangout for gang members. They mentioned how "those little punks think they're so cool and we don't know what they're up to, but we see them.". Was I the gang members? I'm just being paranoid, aren't I?

The cruiser pulls away, after what was probably only three seconds. I watch them disappear down the street and get to the business of exploration.

I spot a lump in the floor. Just a purse, lumpy and empty. Why was it left behind?


With the red tissue paper over my flashlight, I can actually leave it on. The light it casts can be hard to spot from a distance.

I get a closer look at the cupboard over the kitchen sink. The sink where I found that bear.

Vitamin supplements, and what sounds like a full bottle of Zyrtec.


I head back into the hall slowly, as suddenly there's another short burst of traffic. Without the sound of the rain to muffle it, my footsteps sound very loud. The bare wood floor creaks like a rusty eggshell.

Here's a picture of the toilet.


Here at the far end of the hall, is a door I hadn't noticed before. It's flush against the wall, it gives after a slight nudge and I'm in another small room. There's a door going out to the side of the house.

No, there's a doorway leading out to the side of the house. The door itself is missing.


I shut the door behind me, as at this point the hallway can be seen from a street-facing window.

I step out and go behind the house, my fears are realized, I notice that I was right. This place has a basement, and it's Wizard of Oz style cellar doors are throw'd wide open.

This here's a picture I took at the bottom of those stairs. The stairs that lead into the dark, damp-earth scented cellar.


I have good night-vision, as I mentioned earlier. However, this ability is based on being able to amplify ambient light. The basement goes pitch black maybe three feet from the edge of the stairs. This is not hyperbole.

I can't see. The smell of damp earth and dust is very thick, it's the only smell, and it overpowers my deodorant. The flashlight is great for inspecting things up close, but it's not too useful as a standard flashlight. It doesn't cast a lot of ambient light. The floor feels loose in spots, and I stumble on what feels like a pile of turned earth. I tread very lightly.

My elbow knocks into something, a cabinet. It contains something for the toilet.


It's stuck to the shelf, I leave it alone.

I stumble again on a big pile of loose earth, and try to walk around it, it's huge. I crouch down, and find that it's at least three feet tall. Just loose earth, and some debris thrown on top. It takes up most of the back of the basement. I skirt around it trying to gauge it's width. It feels like it's at least eight feet wide.


As I'm doing this, I bump a low shelf and hear something gurgle.

Vinegar.


Aah! Ghost!


Nah, it's just me. 16 second exposure, and I'm stylin' like Picasso.

I almost fall on my face. The floor drops away. There's a step down here.

The floor here is uneven as there's another pile of loose earth. Powdery like the rest.

I put my hand out to steady myself as I get up. And brush against this.


This is the best picture I was able to get of it. It's a mound of earth. It's hard to tell, but that light-colored curve near the bottom center, as I brushed it, it felt exactly like a finger. That there are three more protrusions, also finger shaped poking out of the dirt here makes it very difficult to keep quiet. Just dirt clods though. They crumble as I poke at them.

Behind me, is another small room. This one very strange. Shag carpeting, and the dirt stops right at it's thresh hold. The air smells different in here. The air is still like you'd expect in a room that's laid empty, but dry.


You can see here from left to right: A door, a large glass window, and a stained glass window. The light you see is coming from a street light outside.

Here on the wall behind me...

Alexander Graham Bell.

To my left a couch with objects piled on top. They are:

A carefully arranged selection of romance novels,


A soccer trophy from 1992,


And a California Fire & Casualty Insurance Manual.

Like a lot of other things in this house, it manages to make me very nervous, as it more than ever feels as if the owners had vacated in a great hurry.

My hand brushes another book, this on the floor. I swing the light down to look at my own personal cat scare.

DADDY, HERE'S A MONSTER!

I feel like punching myself for having to stifle a scream.

Next to right under it is this:

"Congratulations! It's a boy!"

Oh.

Next to that is this little quickie.


Soccer trophy, forgotten birth announcement, medicine. What does this place mean? Do these things point at something.

I don't remember these people leaving. I don't remember seeing a moving truck, or people hefting boxes. One day, the house just lay empty and quiet, and then the next day, the fence went up.

Why these piles of earth? Has someone been digging down here? If so, what's down here? Did they find it, are they coming back down for it? Maybe there really were gangsters in here? Did they dig this place up?

I knock over a carefully arranged stack of encyclopedias. They're surprisingly loud as they fall over. I sit very still wondering if I'm imagining voices on the sidewalk outside.
I wish the Captain was here. He doesn't scare too easy.

2:00 A.M. and this place doesn't make any more sense than when I went in.

I make my way to the door at the other end of this little room. The lock sticks, but I get it open.

I see this right before I snap off my flashlight for the night.


I'm back outside again, and the air smells good and fresh. I look up and can see a bush peeking over the edge of the stairs and the night sky above that.

It's time for bed.


Good night.