For a long time now me and some friends have been trespassing at this house for this task. We've enjoyed the experience so much, and thank SF0 for sparking it. Now what I usually do for tasks is type until my hand hurts and then do the entire thing again to ensure that I don't sound as if I am under the influence. I kept meaning to get around to step two for this one, but it's been in my list for so long I thought - oh, what the frell.

Skip ahead to the pictures if you like your sanity, please. (I didn't have the heart to delete my hard worked upon ramblings)




I was under a house for Trespassing The Future when me and my partner in crime Carson heard noises in the house above us. We took off like a shot. Carson says she knows another house we can hit. She makes me pull out my bike and we start off. To be known only later to me my tires couldn't have less air in them. I am huffing and puffing with the effort only a few blocks into the journey. Carson, being quite younger than me, does not know that layout of our neighborhood as well as I. When we finally reach our destination, I look around and realize we are only a couple of blocks from my grandmother's house, and I know exactly where we are. further more, I know a much shorter and direct path.

All that aside, the house is magnificent. Carson suggests that we take our bikes to a nearby beach and approach from the back. We do, and I enter the backyard I am astounded by the history this house may have. The back of the house faces out to the wide river, and if my educated guess is correct, the back is actually the front. I am certain of it. A large porch wraps around this portion of the house and on one side it is delightfully round. On the round side, the second floor roof also has roundedness. And above that, but more to the middle, one can view a wonderful tower-like round room on the third floor.

Now I must divert your attention to the lovely yard. The grass is soft and in a back corner is what I'd like to call a 'fairy circle'. As Carson pointed out, it is not actually a circle, but it is simply so divine that I had to remark upon it. This little portion of the yard has tiny white flowers and seems really peaceful. The part I loved the best was the wall on the sides of the yard. I was similar to a mosaic, and there were piles of large stones and tiles in some places. These rocks and tiles were amazing in them selves, there was one with a turtle and one of beautiful colors and one perfectly round. The wall could have been a normal wall, if most of it hadn't been like the stones and tiles. There was one part of shiny stone which depicted some bible scene. In one place there were stones obtruding, Carson joked that it was a sacrificial alter and took a picture of sitting there. I wonder if it was help to climb over the wall in times past. Now of course you can't because there are painful looking hedges on the other side. Also, more close to the water, is another broken piece of wall with large letters HO.

On the subject of yards, the front (now known to be the original back, I'll call it the List side) is fascinating as well. To get to the house you must journey down a cracked, uneven private drive. When you first start down this little road to your right is a mini-patio. There is a bench and a little wall behind that. The wall proudly bears the flag of Greece. Also on this patio is a strange metal thing. In passing I suppose that it holds a lantern or something. Continuing down the little street after a while will bring you to the house. But cutting across this patio brings you to a large grassy area. Beyond that is a garage. We didn't try the door of the garage but an open overhang shields two canoe and a strange manor of items. The wall of the garage bears strange marking. The other side of the garage is blocked by a short wall. This wall is immensely interesting, covered in even more unusual marking and writing. Even more interesting is a small gap in the wall. On the inside of the wall is a tiny stone sticking out under the gap, on the side closest to us is a large stone block under the gap. All these things combined makes it more than easy to obtain travel to either side of the wall. there was a plaque (perhaps this was once a museum) bears two names. Carson pauses to photograph the names, climbing back over the gap and back into the yard I go to investigate what I had glimpsed before. A large African-American head. It's another mosaic, in the main wall this time, and it freaks me out. The bushes part slightly before the head and I call Carson over so I can make good use of her camera. But when I start towards the head the bushes quiver violently! I direct Carson to take the picture as I still my beating heart to an acceptable rate. I wasn't about to go back there where something moving, something living was. Away from the garage and the head was a semi-circle wall. The first thing I noticed about this one was the face. Right in the middle and up top. It seemed to be an Native American, a lot of things about this place did. Later I noticed another head, lower and to the left. I also found something lower and to the right. A list. I'm captivated by the list. But I'll let you make your own conclusions.

1 MARS HILL
2 PARTHENON
3 POISODON TMP
4 ZONION CAMP
5 METEORA MON
6 TMB. ALEX. GREAT
7 OORINTH CANAL
8 MT. OLYMPUS
9 EPHESUS
10 AGORA - ATH.
11 THESSALONCIA
12 CORINTH
13 SANTORINI
14 LINDOS - RHODES
15 FAL. OF MASTERS RH.O.
16 KNOSSES PAL. CRETE
17 NYCONOS

When you enter from the back (originally the front, I'll call it the Edgewater side) you enter a medium sized room with a grand staircase directly in front. In the dark it was hard to tell, but in the light I was sure. I had a strangely strong sense of déjà vu. It wasn't just that I had a feeling of déjà vu, but like I knew for certain that I had been there before. My uncle owns a house across the neighborhood, which might have been similar but I can't remember. To the left was a large fireplace, with two vases and a half empty box of diet Lime Coke. I moved these and peered carefully up the chimney, smelling what seemed to be essence of smoke. It was large where I was but quickly narrowed into a small tunnel. I could see a small square of sky far up to the right. A friend of Rebecca drank one of the sodas, nothing horrible has happened yet. In this room there was also an old lampshade. I don't notice it or think it important until later. In a box on top of a radiator is a few pieces of paper crumpled together. Intrigued, I carry these to a well lite part in the front and lay them carefully out on a table. "Just something for the house." Carson aloofly tells me. I force her to hand over the camera so that I can take picture anyway. Going to the left of the stairs in the first room presents you with a closet. In this close4t are all the pipes for the house, with knobs to turn it off and on. Interesting, but i was more pleased with the original brass knob on the door. "Imagine!" I exclaim to Carson "The original brass knob!" Carson is unimpressed.

Turning left when you first enter the first room brings you to a side room. The first room and this room remind me so much of my uncle's property, this room in particular. There is a long rectangular cabinet in the middle of the room. Nothing interesting here.

The cellar. Many an excursion has come up with interesting results down here. To venture down into the dark lair of mystery one must descend the servents' stair. It has been thusly named by me because of it's location at the List side of the house and it's cramped size in compared with the main staircase. Going down these stairs it really does feel like you are entering an abyss. The first time Carson and I were at the house, she refused to go down. Also, Rebecca says that she came here with her step-brother and a friend after I told her about it. They had to leave early because her friend was frightened in the basement. There used to be an extremely old For Sale sign down there, which Carson claimed ownership of, but it was lost when Carson put it in the first room on the List side to be retrieved later. It was lost presumably to hoodlums. The first room has a little open spot right next to the stairs, where light comes in from the above room. In this little area I found a long spouted watering can. I just thought this was the coolest thing ever, the spout was so long! Carson didn't seem to care at all. In the middle of the first room there are some cabinets and some mostly empty shelving. On one cabinet Carson remarked "This used to be yellow!" "Oh!" I replied "It did used to be yellow!" There was a small part on the front of the cabinet, as big as two fingers, that still had a tiny bit of peeling yellow paint. I thought that was something noteworthy. The wall opposite the stairs disappeared halfway up and opened out into a dirty, dark space. To the left of the stairs is a metal sink, and an uncleanable mirror. There is a large strange carving that looks similar to a pig is on the floor near the sink. It is as large as my thigh and has either been warn smooth by many years, or is simply very crude. In the right wall is an empty doorway. Through this is a narrow hallway. Entering here, to the right is the elevator shaft (currently void of an elevator.) Directly across from the doorway, on the near wall, is an assortment of furniture and more cabinets stack up against it. Also here is a large mirror, one that I was looking at when Carson heard the green jeep.
To get to the next room in this maze of dark corridors; go left until you reach a wall with large shelving on it, then take a right through the doorway next to that. This room is connected with another on the right and is vaguely uninteresting. In the middle are a lot small good quality paddles, maybe for the canoes by the garage. There is a metal cabinet on the right wall.
The connecting room is so much more worldly. It's taken up by cabinets and things in the middle of the room. In a long box next to the doorway, Rebecca and I found an old piece of paper. This house, in the past, had a relationship with someone who worked with shipbuilding and dry dock. Behind an old style metal trash can is another strange carving. The trash can is filled with what is maybe sand. A bucket rests in the sand, and is filled with red dust. The red dust reminded me of clay, but also of Arizona and my ventures in the great city of Phoenix (When it was first settled, room and board were free if it rained), the university hotel in Flagstaff (Oh the wonders of their hot chocolate), and the Grad Canyon ("Wow" ten-year-old me thought "A big hole in the ground"). With no offense to proud Arizonians, back to the dust. I threw this dust into the nearby mud pit. This mud pit, woe to all who venture near, is a sight to see. The first time I came across it, I came across it on the outside portion. Thats right, on the Gate side of the house, closer to the List side than the Edgewater side, a tarp is stretched out from the house to the ground. Beneath this tarp is a huge hole, and through that, if It's bright out, you can just make out the cellar. "Fun!" I thought this first time, outside and looking down. With no hesitation or second thoughts I plunged right in. And almost toppled over onto my face when my feet went farther that I thought they would. A chill went up my spine and I scrambled at the crumbling edge, wishing nothing more than to be out of there as soon as possible. Because I was standing in a squishy, mucky, icky pool of mud. Slipping and sliding, trying to avoid that face-plant, I pull myself out of that slimy surprise. Again I look at my shoes. "It never ends!" I exasperate. After the sakura ballet flats had be dunked into the Lafayette river at low tide, I was so sure nothing else... But look! Completely enveloped in mud they were, and becoming my ex-ex- favorite shoes.
On the day that I threw the red dust in there it had rained the previous night and the mud pit was filled to it's little brim inside the cellar. The red dust swirled, still propelled by the force of my throw, but ceased to move only seconds after so indigently being thrown in. Rebecca, surprised by my behavior, stopped what she was doing to watch it with me. It didn't move. The water, completely opaque and now poxed with a dark red spot, was still. "Hand me the red pole." I command, my arm outstretched. Just previously, I has used this red pole to pole vault to a brick in the middle of the water in the mud pit. Standing there, using the red pole to support myself, Rebecca had taken a picture.
Now, I impatiently shake my hand as Rebecca retrieves the red pole, surely wondering profusely what I'm going to do with it. I stir the stained water in a counter-clockwise direction and sing a small song I made up

"Witches brew, Witches brew
All alone and very few

I saw them there that morning love
Shrieking, screaming like a dove

In the early summer light
Always looking for a fight

I spied a wreath of roses"

Bad poetry yes, but I wasn't about to recite the black magic verses of Act I, Scene i of the unlucky play I'll just call "M". I considered it , but this proposal was immediately shot down by the Council of My Better Judgment.
Regardless, nothing happened.
There was drawer under all the rubbish in the middle of the room and this was filled with all manner of things. Screw, nails, similar things which I have no name for. But I should make a note of a few things. One: the number three. I took this home with me for a better picture. I might decide on keeping this. Two: A strang thing that looks kind of like a head. Rebecca decided to keep this. There were a lot of similar things to this, but they didn't look like anything (except for one that maybe looked like a foot.)
It might have been that the green jeep arrived while I was in the cellar, or that previously that day the red pick up truck had been here, or maybe it was just the setting; but I started getting really paranoid in the cellar. I heard foot steps, I swear I did. To this day I'd swear it sounds like footsteps. "No" Rebbecca insisted "It's the tarp making noises in the wind." It wasn't the tarp! It wasn't! It was. To be more precise; it was one of those colourful plastic markers construction workers tie on stuff for who knows what reason. The wind was making it tap against the building. I have a sudden craving for Scooby Snacks.
But then I heard footsteps again, and Rebecca heard them as well this time. Escape, where could we escape?! The mud pit! The pole, gotta get the pole. That wouldn't work, oh no, they'd see it was in a different place. Doesn't matter! Another brick. Put it here? No more towards the back, escape through the back yard. Okay out! Rebecca? You can't out? I'll help you. You don't need help? You do? Make up your mind! Check out front, no one there. False alarm?
Those were the thoughts that went through my head. Grabbing another brick I jumped to the one already in the middle of the water filled mud pit and put it in there as well. I jumped to that one and scurried out from under the trap. Rebecca had a bit of trouble getting out, and it was a false alarm anyway.
The cellar. Fascinating place, best place to find something old and cool. Down here I had a huge urge to start saying "If there is anyone here with us, could you please make your presence known?"

The attic. To get to the land of clouds the direct rout is the staircase opposite to servants' stairs. Not as narrow as the servants' stair, but far from being as grand and spacious as the main stair. An average staircase made of modern wood. It can be accessed from the second floor as well as the first, so I like to ascend the main staircase and then enter this one to get to the attic. There aren't any walls, as in lower levels, but instead vertical wooden boards hold up the roof. The first 'room' (what is a room but four walls?) was large and well lite by the afternoon sun. In the far left corner was a door for the tower room. Very nice round room, with tons of windows. Just the diameter of only six feet to drag down it's charms. Dragging them down quite far. "I'd love to have this room" I tell Rebecca without thinking "Yes, but it's so small" says she. "Perfect for Cinderella though. You, I guess." That is my eternal thought of Rebecca. She is the oldest of her siblings, and her mom seems to me a bit harsh. All well, another small jacuzzi (What is it? Seriously!) was in one of the spaces.
Up here I found a lamp, but it had no lampshade. It was here that I became interested in the lampshade from the first room. "Do you think it matches the one from downstairs?" I ask Carson. "I'm too tired. I don't want to go all the way down there. Who cares?"Geez, I wanted to say, glad you're so enthusiastic. But it was getting late, so she had a point. When Rebecca went there with me I bypassed the first floor and the cellar, choosing instead to grab the lamp shade and head directly up to the attic. The air was full of anticipation and Rebbecca caught on to the epic feeling on this event. The lamp took forever to unscrew and forever to screw back on, but it truly was the most beautiful thing to behold. Totally vintage. I'd love to have it, but a lamp is significantly more difficult to explain than a number three. And how would I get it home anyway? It has to a be a total fire hazard as well, I was deeply suspicious of the old cord.
In the attic Rebecca and I attempted to document the paranormal. I start the spiel I learned from TAPS; "If there is anybody here with us, could you please make your presence known? Could you please touch my friend Rebecca here, on the arm?" "Uh, no! Don't touch me!" We giggle, but I know that I must be "Let's just take some random shots and..." "Claudia!" I whip my head around quick enough to catch Rebbeca jump a few inches in the air "I- I heard something. Like, breathing" Suddenly it is not a game. "If there is anyone here with us, could you please not show your presence. It's cool that you're here and stuff, but we really don't want to see you. Nu-uh, no. Please don't show us your presence." It the worst of circumstances, babbling always works. We hi-tail it out of there.
There are two crawlspaces in the opposite wall in the first big space. The one on the far right has a crawlspace within a crawl space. Curiouser and curiouser.

I haven't mentioned fully the ridiculousness of jacuzzis. Alright, so I'll admit they aren't actually jacuzzis but- ... Let me lay it out for you. Remember that closet with all the pipes? Glad to see your memory isn't crap but it really doesn't matter. On the first floor is a hot tub and directly next to that, something with a drain. Orange plastic tarp covers it, and part of the wall comes out to make little seats. The floor is raised slightly at the edge. These things are all over the house. Every time me and my friends would come upon another one we'd say incredulously "Another jacuzzi?" Whatever they are, no one needs that many of them. There was a bathroom on the second floor, next to the room with all the stuff. A shower was in the middle of the small hallway-like room. "Neat" I thought. I'm so naïve! I step into the shower so Carson can take a picture of me in it and my foot once again sinks into something wet.

My feeling of déjà vu, my mother tells me, is not completely wrong. As I had thought, I had been in the backyard when I was younger (I remember sitting on the turtle seat), but I have never been in the house. My mother was also able to provide me with some information she heard from a friend. Apparently the "M. Family" owns the house and have been renovating it. My mother wonders why they don't just move in, apparently it's been a couple of years. She told me the first names of the parents "G.M." but I don't know how to spell one, the name of one of their sons. "W. M." , Rumour has it he is my age. She says the reason the front faces the water is that there used to be a street there called "Edgewater", but that it was washed away in a hurricane.
"G.M." is also on the committee of mothers women who run the Cotillion. Mom pointed it out on the invitation I always receive. She said ""



Me and my friends were almost caught, and then indeed caught, a number of times. Carson and I were romping about in the cellar when we both froze. We both heard it, the sound of a truck outside. I screamed in a horse whisper to shut off the flash light, though she disregarded this sound advice many times. We bolted up the servant's' stair and bound out the back of the house. We shot over the grass and didn't stop until we reached the beach. My bare arms begged for warmth and the cold breeze snuggled my head. Carson and I just stood there for a few moments as the realization that we had left our bikes, and my coat, in the front yard. We walked around to the front and hoped kind of helplessly that maybe they would leave. Banishing my fears to just beneath my supposedly calm composure, I motioned for Carson to follow me as I creeped across the lawn towards where we had hidden our bikes. Taking shelter behind a trailer we surveyed the enemy. Not a truck, as we had immediately concluded, but a green jeep. Seeing no one, we moved forwards in a low crouch. Only a few feet from our modes of transportation, we heard a loud "Hey!" Startled we lept back behind the trailer. Knowing we were caught, I accepted the inevitable and stepped out into the open. The 'enemy' was just some teenage/college guys! What was this insult? To be taken down by some, I immediately assumed, pot heads?! Never again! "What are you doing here?" his question stretched out in the soft silence. "The no trespassing sign..." I start weakly. No, keep going I tell myself "the no trespassing sign. We thought if we put out bikes here, the no trespassing sign, no one would come back here, trespass, and steal our bikes. The sign." Babbling confused him long enough to grab my bike and coat and calmly walk away. At this point, Carson could fend for herself! But, waiting on the street, she showed up a few seconds later. We wonder what to do. Carson, an ill-conceived thought in her head, rides her bike up the drive. My scooter, significantly slower, carries me after her. After catching up with her, I watch her bad plan in motion. "What time is it?" She is asking the thugs. "7:30" is the answer. A silence. For this plan to not fail as it should I must now spring into action. I pretend to be wildly annoyed, and even angry, at her actions and drag her off. I must say, it wasn't hard to act that way. Back on the street again I swap vehicles with her and settle back on her smooth ride. Bicycling forwards, I threaten to leave Carson and she moans and groans. She doesn't want to go, despite the impossibility of her request and her mother's sure-to-be-thrown fit at her lateness home. I am tired, we had been at this for a while now and I wanted a nap. I was also hungry after having barely eaten anything as usual. Actually, if it wasn't for Carson having possession of my scooter, and my inability to get home without riding her bike, I'dve left her without a second thought.

Rebecca and I, we had a lot of scares. One even led us on an epic adventure. We had just arrived, and I was showing her the yard. Rebecca, the keen observer she is, yells out to me horsely "*uck! Truck!" We slam our selves against the wall that contained the list, which would effectively hide us from the drive, the house, and everything but the yard directly in front of us. I throw myself over the bike I borrowed from Rebecca, dragging the pick eye-sore down with me. I reach for the one Rebbecca is using, but a red pickup truck appears and I must leave it. We crouch next to the wall and I make myself comfortable. There is nothing we can do but wait. I calm myself, knowing that getting upset isn't going to help the situation.There's nothing more we can do. Unfortunately, I got the feeling Rebecca didn't take this perspective. While I had my back against the wall and my feet stretched out in front of me, she was on her knees and elbows, in an uncomfortable looking sideways position. My face, serene and emotionless, contrasted with her tense, worried expression. I probably should have done more to reassure her, but it's funny. In such a bad situation as that, all I could think about was what a beautiful day it was.
I pull out my cellphone for documentation, and I have a pretty good idea. I snap one of Rebecca, who smiles for the camera, and I lift it over the edge of the wall and take a picture. Pulling my hand back down, Rebecca and I huddle over the small screen on my phone. With no aim, I managed to only get a small portion of the truck. But no matter. We peeked over occasionally to see the situation on the other side, no cellphones needed. The most often report: "They're in the truck" Two guys, just sitting in the front seat of this red pick-up tuck! It really annoyed us that they weren't doing anything. We figured there must be a third guy, but we had no idea where he went. A possible guess is that he went inside, because the plywood that served as a door for the front of the house was open. But finally we heard it, the murmur of talking and then two cars doors opening and closing. Rebecca and I waited a suitable interval and then peered over the side of the wall. No one in sight. "Should we go for it?" "Yeah." We pick up our bikes as quietly as we can and then run as fast as we can for the street. We collapse on the bench in front the of the Greek flag, breathless and laughing. With nothing really else to do we refuse to get up! With no set plan we head over the Edgewater side and leave our bikes an the small beach.
James Bond, Alex Rider, Rebbeca and I. On hands and knees the last two of that list crawled through the dirt, under bushes, around beer cans and broken glass. After hard work and stealthy maneuvers we manged to get really close to the house, maybe ten or fifteen feet in from the shore. Alright, that isn't that close, but we were really proud of ourselves for getting closer! We weren't able to get farther because the bushes were were crawling through had no more openings and we had both agreed that we wouldn't go through other people's yards. With no where else to go we just sort of hung out, in that little hollow in the bushes, surrounding by remnants of countless alcoholics. At one time some people did come out of the house, onto the porch. Since Rebecca was more in a position to, she looked. "Yes," she confirmed "It's one of the guys.". Mostly we just loitered around in the backyard after that, taking care to stay out of sight of the house. Remembering our promise bitterly, I stayed our of innocents' yards.
Finally we decided to take a chance. Staying low and moving quickly, we scurried across the yard, bursting like ninjas from the bushes to scrabble across large stones, ending up with our backs pressed against side of the porch. Right under there noses! Ha, ha! those punks will never catch us! We crawled along the house, and I gazed at the world around me. I had never been at this side of the house before. That Scary Weird Thing... When we reached the front of the house, the List side, I took a quick look around the house. The red pickup truck was gone! Success!

In the downtown library I attempted to shed light on the situation. No situation in particular, I just wanted to know more. A lot of the materials are in storage, and I didn't have the time to scour the Mezzanine, which holds all historical documents in my fair city (yellowed books with bound covers, you can almost smell the history!), though I deeply wanted to. On the internet I managed to find out a bit more.
It was farmland until 1906 when it was made into a neighborhood. In 1926 it was officially added to the city. The houses are a mix of old and new. "Many of the older homes were
built early in the century. Some on the water sit far back from the road and
are reached by long driveways." The streets are ridiculously confusing and addresses don't match up. Upper-income neighborhood. "Trees are everywhere." Two houses very, very near the one I'm trespassing in are described as "Georgian-Victorian" and "1927-era".
Even a tidbit about the house "There
is a house that boasts a one-of-a-kind stone wall surrounding the front yard.
Scenes and pictures in the wall are formed by the insetting of various stones
and semi-precious jewels."