We broke into a previously broken into house! That’s not illegal right? I love abandoned places and nature reclaiming man-made objects. It is scary in the city, exploring abandoned buildings because the chances are there are squatters, homeless or drug users. None of which look kindly on a skinny chick fumbling with her phone.
I’ve always wanted to go snooping around an abandoned house, who doesn’t? It is fascinating what people leave behind them. We found a calendar that had the year 2002 on it. 15 years that house stands alone. No laughter, no tears, no anger. Silence, except for the wind and rain sweeping through the open windows and doors.
Yes, they were open. We did not break in. The best thing for me was the fact that there wasn’t any graffiti. No spray paint with unreadable scrawls across the walls. The fake glass of the chandeliers were scattered across the floor looking like small plastic daggers. A massive television, no flat screens here, resting to one side with vinyl records stacked haphazardly on top.
We came in the back door, boyfriend going first with flash on his phone and a big bolt tightener in his hand. To threaten anyone who might be on site. The only other beings were bats! And oh are bats cute! I’ve only ever seen them flying at night. And by seen, I mean I ducked as they go shooting by. They are absolutely tiny. I could not believe how small they are. The main part of the house was boring. There were fridges and an oven in what I assume was the kitchen. All open and cleared out in the center of the small room. There is a bathtub leaning on a wall in another room. A toilet sitting beside the pipe it would have been attached to.
A window opened into the garage, leaning over, I could see stairs that led into the basement. We all dutifully climbed into the garage, a sturdy table helping us down. The basement was dark, no windows down here. This is where the bats were, I did not take a photo of them fearing that the flash would disturb their sleep. The rooms were filled with stuff, suitcases, bags, buckets, tools, armchairs, blankets. This dark basement felt like the home to me, not upstairs. That was the showroom. I squealed when I saw the range and the cupboard with the salt-and-pepper in it. I could picture the lady and man living here. The windows that did not point outside had curtains on them, only a person who love their home put curtains on their windows.
The windows viewed a hallway where there was a lawn mower and cement mixer. They reminded me of my dad and his lawn mower which is a pain-in-the-ass, tied-together, about-time-it-went-to-lawn-mower-heaven machine and the cement mixer that he thought a neighbour had borrowed but it had been robbed with a bunch of other things, unfortunately, they left the lawn mower behind.
And finally, outside stood an old tractor, hidden amongst the greenery. Moss covered seat, branches weaving their way through the engine and around the steering wheel. I hope someone buys that house and gives it back its purpose before nature does to it what it has done to the tractor. One might be able to get the tractor up and running again, but a house to go that far into nature will receive too many grumbles of the cost of the thing. It is fixable at the moment but another couple of years opened to the elements as it is, the damage will be irreversible.