When I was a much younger dweeb, I once was out riding with a lady friend, and we came upon this deserted old house. A two-story wooden structure, it stood in the center of a clearing surrounded by tall pines. Our horses were acting flighty, but, being a dweeb, I decided we HAD to investigate the derelict dwelling. We tied the horses to a tree, and wandered about the clearing the place stood in. There was this old red-painted gypsy-type caravan parked in front of the house, with the wooden traces to hitch a team of horses or oxen to. It was pretty old-fashioned, with iron wheel bases, but it sported an incongruously modern sink. The wooden rims of the wheels were long gone, but it was in pretty good nick, and had a series of large open side windows. I imagined it must have been quite comfortable to knock about in. We poked about in it a bit, and then we made our way onto the porch of the house, and pushed through the old door. The house was still fairly intact, with some furnishings left, most notably an old pine bakers table, the type with the metal flour bins under it. There were a few other odd sticks of furniture. Most of the windows still had glass. We were careful not to step on rotten boards, and we explored the ground floor, then made our way upstairs. In an upstairs room, we found an old brocade couch, and settled ourselves down on it.
We hadn't been sitting very long when my friend began to complain about the "vibes" the place was giving her, and wanted to leave. She became quite adamant, so, though while the Dweeb was not uncomfortable (or in a different state of mind, more like), we began our retreat quickly. On our way across the clearing, my friend looked back at the house, and screamed: "There's a face!" "Where?" I was looking back at the house, too, having done a 180 in doublequick time. "There, at the upper window!" I thought I saw a reflection off the glass, maybe.....
She was on her horse instantly, and I was fumbling onto mine, when they took off! I thought we'd probably spooked them, though, being a practical dweeb. Also, being closeted with a dweeb can send anyone over the cuckoo's nest in no time....
A few times over the next winter, I was in the vicinity of the house, when I'd see lights on in it. I figured squatters had it staked out, or maybe.....just maybe.....it was haunted. It did show signs of being occupied by someone.....or something. I left the area, and didn't think much about the place after that, until I heard the Waterbabies, but that is another tale.
A few years ago, I was in the neighborhood with some friends, and I told them about the abandoned house. For a lark, we went up there, and there it was, still empty, forlorn even, in the middle of its little clearing. The caravan was still there. Many windows had been broken, either by vandals or weather. I looked into the kitchen lean-to, and the baker's table was still, there, but coming to pieces from rot. The roof was now full of gaps in many places. The Epilogue:
After my success(?) with photographing the Winchester House and the Mansions, as well as a few other well-documented hauntings, I began to think about the abandoned house, and whether the camera would "see" what the Dweeb had failed to see many times on my ghosthunts. Much more sensitive people on the dweebcrews had been able to feel the presence of "others" on several occasions where the camera bore fruit. Plus, Dweeb had been telling other people to photograph their haunts, and, well, decided to follow the advice, too. So I went back....
I arrived in the late afternoon in the clearing, and, there IT was! Still there! Time had not been kind to the house. Not a single intact piece of glass remained in any window, giving it the appearance of a face without eyes, just empty sockets.
The old caravan had lost all its cheerful red paint, and was now as mournfully derelict as its large companion of the clearing.
The Dweeb snapped off some pictures outside, then I retraced my route from the previous experience, photographing everything as I went from room to ruined room. I was much more cautious this time (ignorance can be bliss, or is it dweebs have guardian angels?), trying to feel for both physical and supernatural pitfalls (rotten floors, rotten ghosts). My camera began to behave oddly, slowing down between photos, advancing with more and more hesitation. I couldn't understand it; I had put brand new batteries in the d*mn thing, and I had no spares with me! I climbed the stairs to the room, and there, in the room, my g*dd*mned camera jammed! I had to get out of the house to reload, as the light was fading, and the house was growing darker by the minute. I got the second roll of film in, and then I had to re-enter the house in the evening gloom. The Dweeb was worried. I shot each downstairs room once more. By this time, the camera was groaning between frames, and the Dweeb was hopping from foot to foot in a little dance of agitated fear. When I went to climb those stairs again, I could feel my poor heart pounding against my ribs. Then, a smart*ssed dweebcrew member thought it would be a giggle to throw a rock at a wall. I nearly fell down the d*mn stair backwards! @!#$%&! It didn't even let off a little pressure, though, and I went into that room with the certainty of a massive coronary staring me in the face. I managed to survive the camera's geriatric frame advances, I don't know how, and then I beat a hasty retreat, just as the sun was setting! It is hard to describe the feeling I got in that room, because my mind was telling me: "Dweeb, you have an overactive imagination, and you are psyching yourself out." Meanwhile, the dweebheart was saying "Dweeb, you crazy m*thrf*cker, what ARE you doing? Get another hobby, like stamp collecting, or basketweaving!"
As soon as I got back, I dropped off both rolls at Photos R Cheep, and waited for the results. I was looking through the shots of the downstairs rooms, and nothing, nothing, nada, except great illustrations of what disaster interior decorations look like.
Then I got to the upstairs room....
When I saw the photos, well, my knees got weak. I've counted over 30 orbs in one shot alone! Was it a meeting I crashed? The party was definitely on the second floor! Basketweaving, here I come.......
Dweeb