The Old Abandoned House

Abandoned house stock photos

---

Ramirez claims that a half block away he heard the soft sound that his jacket made when it fell heavily to the ground. I measure the cracks and confirm their advance. The blackish borders of the water stains extend. Pieces of plaster come loose from the walls and ceiling, and the entire structure has a slight, almost imperceptible, leftward slant. It is an inevitable, and beautiful, collapse.

Abandoned House

We do agree that viewed from the street, or from the path that leads to the house, it appears to be about eighty square meters 8m x 10m. The trouble begins from the moment we step in among its weeds, its ivies, its flowerless plants, its insects, the lines of ants, the vines and giant ferns, the rays of sun that filter through the canopy of the tall eucalyptus trees, the bear tracks, the chatter of the parrots, the snakes coiled around the branches that raise their heads and whistle when we pass, the unbearable heat, the thirst, the darkness, the roar of the leopards, the falls of the machete that clears the way, the tall boots we wear, the humidity, our helmets, the luxurious vegetation, the night, the fear, the fact that we can't find the way out, the fact that we can't find the way out.

THE HUNT None of us are able to shake the suspicion that the house must hold an old and fabulous treasure, composed of precious stones and heavy gold coins. There are no maps, nor clues of any kind. I count myself among the most skeptical, although I have often allowed myself to daydream and I even imagine clever unsuspected corners where the treasure might be hidden.

The fact that I don't participate in the official treasure hunts sets me apart from the rest. I don't even search when I'm alone as I know many do. I thoroughly enjoy these hunts.

I lie in a lounge chair that I bring from my house especially for the occasion and I place it in an appropriate location, generally in the main living room. I watch, drinking mate and smoking cigarettes, as they spread out methodically—the women through the house, the men in the basement—and they search.

The ladies in their happy dresses rummage in the rubble or dig inside the furniture coverings. I smile when I see them search the pieces of furniture that they know we brought in ourselves to feed the hurricanes. The men, in their blue uniforms, tap the walls of the basement looking for a sound that is hollow or different. But all the sounds are hollow, and different from one another. The tapping makes music; it reminds me of the sounds made from bottles filled with different levels of liquid. Soon it seems that everything fits together and the music becomes rhythmic and the women go up and down and it looks like they're dancing and I think again of the musical bottles, now containing liquors of all different colors, all transparent and sweet.

I don't know why she joined our group she's afraid of the house. Everyone knows that there is no running water and that it's dangerous to go around turning on faucets without warning. The little women come out of the sink. And then there's the rubbery yellow thing in the bathtub. It blows up like a balloon and doesn't stop getting bigger until you turn off the faucet.

Then it comes loose and floats around us for a little while. Then it rises up and sticks to the ceiling and stays there until one day we come in and it's gone. If you flush the toilet, by pulling the long chain with a wooden handle, you hear a tremendous, hair-raising scream. It's so loud we worry about complaints from the neighbors. We heard a scream and we confused it with the shriek of the toilet but no, it was Leonor, running and pointing toward the bathroom. We followed her and discovered a long thin earthworm crawling out of the bidet.

More and more of the earthworm kept appearing; it seemed to go on forever. It was already a meter and a half long, easily. We waited to see when it would end but it kept getting longer and longer as it dragged itself across the floor, heading towards the other rooms. We cut it into pieces but each new section remained fully alive; the new earthworms escaped in all directions. We had to sweep them up and throw them down the drain.

The first worm kept coming out and soon new black spots began to peek out from other holes. We tried to turn off the faucet but it was stuck. No one was brave enough to change the washer, let alone call a plumber. We began to think that we'd have no other choice but to close up the bathroom and be forever deprived of the spectacular little women.

Leonor was accused of having done it on purpose. Finally, someone had the idea and the courage to force each of the earthworm heads into the drain of the bidet itself. This seemed fine with the earthworms. They continued to crawl in and out of the bidet. They're still at it now, a continuous and never-ending movement. Someone who doesn't know the story of the bidet would look at it and see a strange horizontal rain of shiny black water.

Then it's best to leave, or lock yourself in the bedroom, or as a last resort, stay pressed into the corner with your head between your knees and your hands over your head. Dirt, papers, objects begin to twirl slowly in the center of the room like autumn leaves. There is a brusque drop in temperature and the wind blows harder. Then everything lifts into the air and swirls towards the center. The furniture is pulled in and the walls shake, loosening the flakes of plaster.

The dirt suffocates us and irritates our eyes and makes us thirsty. If the hurricane catches you by surprise you could become trapped in its funnel, twirling round and round, sometimes spit out against a wall, violently, only to bounce back to the center again and again until you die and even after you're dead. Once calm is restored, I leave the corner and I walk amongst the rubble, the broken vases, the overturned furniture.

Everything is beautifully out of place. The dining room seems exhausted, as if after a fit of vomiting. It seems to breathe easier. But it's interesting to observe some facts. We have classified the grass a job carried out by Angel, the vegetarian as a variety of St. Augustine called Martynia louisiana , native to North America. It seems to grow only in this garden. It has large flowers, yellow with purple spots. It bears fruit once a year: Hence its popular name, Unicorn Plant, and from there, according to us, the annual visit of the animal to our garden.

Despite patient vigilance we've never actually seen it. But we have noticed the grass cut by teeth. We've discovered holes in the dirt, as if produced by the twisted point of an umbrella in the elevated bank of a mud puddle.

We've seen hoof prints; we've found fresh manure. One night the sound of a soft whinny reached us. The next morning we found Luisa.

Welcome to Shutterstock!

She was sixteen years old and had joined our group only days prior. Her chest was punctured by an enormous uni-hole; she was naked, monstrously raped. YOU You are a door-to-door salesman. You peddle books or memberships to medical societies. You knock on all the doors. You try to get into all the houses. You see a wrought-iron fence and you hesitate for an instant.

But you are determined, and an unkempt garden does not dissuade you. You push open the gate.

You walk up the path that divides the garden in two; you stop directly in front of the door and you look for the doorbell. You don't find it, but you see a bronze doorknocker. In addition, there were no hallways up here, instead there were just more doors. I found a silver lighter at the top of the steps. In the first room, the smell was almost overwhelming, and there was a body on top of a table.

The body was unrecognizable because it was mangled and headless, but even worse was that the chest had been ripped open, and the innards were hanging out over the sides. There was nothing in this room for me, so I left, and decided not to go back in there again. The next room looked like a bedroom.

It had two beds with plain white sheets and pillows.

Navigation menu

The walls looked recently repainted, and even the floors looked well maintained. Perhaps this is where that monster slept? If that was the case, then why were there two beds? There was also a closet in this room, which I searched, and found a can of lighter fluid in there, so I was able to fill my lighter. With my now filled lighter, I was able to enter that dark room on the first floor, so I went there.

I could barely see in the room even with my lighter, but I was able to make out a door at the opposite end of the room, which I entered. This room was a prison cell. It had a heavy, sliding iron bar door, with the wall being made up of many more vertical iron bars. I opened the cell door and stepped inside. There was an axe on the floor, and a key next to it. I decided that this would be a good time to arm myself, and I picked up the axe and pocketed the key. The monster had stepped into the room, but because I had already locked the door, the monster was not able to get to me.

Instead, it attempted to break down the wall with brute force, but it failed and left the room. I sat on the floor to relieve myself of the anxiety that I was feeling, and when I was ready, I left the room. The annex was darker and red toned which made it seem like another building rather than just an extension of the house. The first room of the annex had no doors in it, but instead it had a hallway leading to the east, which I took because there was no other place for me to go.

When I was close enough to read the sign, the boards below my feet snapped, and I fell about feet below, and my right leg really hurt from that fall. The room that I landed in was a square shaped room with seemingly only one exit: Seeing as there was no point to being in this room, I picked myself up, and limped to the next room. I kept hearing some sort of low groaning coming from no particular direction.

It sounded just as loud no matter where I was pointing my head. The next room was a long hallway with a bare wall at the western end, and a few bookshelves at the eastern end. I noticed that one of them had a crack, so I used the axe to chop it into splinters, which revealed a hidden door, which I entered.

The next room was a long narrow cave that led south. I could hear raindrops very loud outside, and I could also feel a draft from the cave, which meant that there must have been an exit. The creepy cabin has been left derelict after years of neglect - one of many in this desert ghost town. Few places in the world are as eerie or as heartbreaking as Chernobyl, the location of the catastrophic nuclear disaster in This abandoned mansion is just one of the many dilapidated houses that remain, a reminder of the thousands who have died since the disaster.

This spooky house stands empty and deserted in the middle of the Swedish countryside after it was inexplicably deserted by its owner. Surrounded by trees and in a peaceful rural location, it could make a perfect weekend retreat, but in its current state looks run-down and eerie. Once a busy diamond mining town, Kolmanskop was deserted in the s when the supply of precious gems started to deplete.

But while Kolmanskop might be a ghost town and devoid of people, its former residents left behind some intriguing houses, not least this picturesque property. Totally ravaged by sand, the site is now a tourist destination run by the world-famous diamond company De Beers and is used as a movie location for TV, film and fashion shoots.

Everything about this abandoned home in Transylvania fits all the creepy haunted house tropes. The lake is swallowing up hundreds of buildings just like this one, and as their owners pack up and leave they are doomed to stand waist deep in water until they collapse for good into the depths. If you close your eyes, you can just imagine how luxurious this Vietnamese villa would have been once upon a time.

Despite its picturesque lake setting and lush green gardens, the home has been abandoned and is slowly falling to pieces. It's a mystery how they got there, as the area around the structure seems to be tree-free. You might ask yourself the obvious question: Whatever the answer, this fascinating home has been uninhabited for 20 years has gradually fallen into a sad state of disrepair. Many homes become shadows of their former selves once they are abandoned, but not this house in Japan. It comes into its own every year after the summer when the leaves of the vines that have slowly crept up the sides burst into beautiful rich colour.

The several-storey house has no windows, crumbling foundations and creaking shutters worthy of a haunted house. It could be a promotional photo for a horror movie: With boarded-up windows, crumbling walls and a peeling paint job, this abandoned house in Hull has certainly seen better days. Its colourful exterior might bring some cheer to the sight during the day, but the sight of the derelict house would make even the bravest of passersby check for ghosts in the evening.

• WHERE OTHERS CANT, YOU CAN
• Urban Growth Analysis and Remote Sensing: A Case Study of Kolkata, India 1980–2010 (SpringerBriefs in Geography)
• Jeu des coquilles de nautilus (Le) (French Edition)
• Learning to Fly Helicopters, Second Edition (Aviation)
• Big Is Beautiful! : Lessons for Living Happily With Your Plus Sized Body
• LEnvol des anges (Harry Bosch t. 6) (French Edition)