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There are always photos that simply do not fit into general categories. Here’re a few.
Abandoned Houses!
Alyse and I, Field Agents for FoPAH, gather information and photos of buildings that have been abandoned for various, usually mysterious and sometimes frightening, reasons...
Blood House 6/2005
The Train Station 7/2004
The Apartment Complex 7/2004
Mays Village Winter, 2002
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The Tree
Sometimes you come across a photogenic item. I did, and here are the results...
Foundation for the Preservation of Abandoned Homesites (FoPAH)
Excerpts from reports complied by Field Agents Thurston and Ford
My friend, Alyse, and I like to investigate abandoned houses. Friends of friends (etc) keep telling us about houses on their properties and we go look around. I think we have visited around 25 or so by now. Each one, the older the better, has a lot of lingering energy. Here are some of our better ones and the feelings we got from them... I found the introductory poem recently.
It sits on a hill all weathered and worn
Hidden by the weeds, the bramble, and thorn.
A hull of a house that once was a home
Is now a hovel where spiders roam.
Where once hung curtains all trimmed in lace
That spoke of the people who lived in this place,
Now is adorned with cobwebs and dust
And smells of mildew, the damp, the must.
Its people have gone to the vale below
Where underground they lie in a row.
And only three lines engraved in a stone
Are all of these people that now is known.
But if you come close you’ll hear the soft mourn
Of the wind that blows through a window that’s torn.
And oh what a tale that wind does tell
Of their hopes and dreams as it spins its spell.
As it hums its tune through the broken glass
And speaks of the people from out of the past,
You’ll hear neath the sound of the blowing leaves
As across the floor they scurry and weave,
The creak of a chair as it rocks a child
And the song of a mother as low and mild.
And sometimes now in the evening gloom
As the shadows glide from room to room,
When the moon washed walls begin to glow,
You can catch a glimpse of the long ago.
When the sun goes down and the dark draws nigh,
And you hear the sound of the wind’s soft sigh,
Don’t ever feel sure that it’s only the night
For it may be they who lived in the site.
Alyse and I have been Field Agents for FoPAH (Foundation for the Preservation of Abandoned Homesites) now for several years. During that time we have seen many strange and weird things; some that turnout to be the result of very ordinary common place causes; others remain unexplained to this day.
But never had we come across anything like what we faced at the site we have since named “Blood House.”
It began as an ordinary enough investigation. We were taking a trip through the northern part of North Carolina, stopping by and cataloging several sites people had contacted us about. We would take a few outside photos while getting a feel for the energy, then enter. Most of the ones this time were in fairly good shape so we didn’t have to climb up half rotted stairs or jump gaping holes in the floors. The roofs were still intact, providing for more solid footing inside.
When we reached this particular house neither of us got any impressions at all. This in itself is unusual as we usually get at least a low level reading. We entered a huge hallway; incredibly wide, almost a room in itself. The reason for the width of the hallway was only suggested later.
The first room we entered was off this hallway to the right; it was a living room or study with a fireplace and carpeting. Alyse immediately noticed the open closet door and pointed her big lamp to it. She suggested that the stains dripping down the door was blood. I disagreed. Why would there be blood here and there was far too much of it to be blood…
Then we turned and saw the bloody hands prints on the wall. No doubt that it was blood now, we took a closer look at the room. The mantle had a puddle of blood on it and we noticed there were dried pools of blood on the carpet.
Taking another look in the hallway, we saw blood splatter and cast off in arcs on the wall; we hadn’t noticed it when we came inside.
Other rooms had more signs of violence and bloodshed. Recording what we were finding we slowly went through the house, documenting our experiences.
Oddly, our psychic senses were still silent. There was no lingering energy from this carnage.
We finally came across a document that explained what we had found and we immediately understood the blood and the silent voices. It was most of a script for a zombie movie. A low budget horror movie had been filmed here; the blood was fake; which explained why there was no lingering chaotic energy.
As we conferred in the big entrance hallway, allowing this information to change our evaluation of the site, the real and true mystery of Blood House became apparent.
We had explored all the rooms and the outside of the site. There was no stair or access panel to an upper floor; but as you can see from the photograph, there is a second floor in this house. Yet there was no way to get to it.
This was an older home with very high ceilings. The ceilings had been dropped, probably to make it easier to heat in the winter. We found a tile of the dropped ceiling removed in the single bathroom and dragged a chair in to have a look.
It revealed the space above the huge hallway and I could see the molding around the wall, maybe a foot from the very high ceiling. Against the far wall I could see the faint outline of steps. Long removed, this had been the way up to the second floor. The hole that had led to the upper floor had been paneled over, so there was no way to get to this mysterious place.
Dropping back into the hallway, there was no sign of where the stairs had been; all indication of them had been removed. The size of the front hall had been to accommodate stairs and a hall beside them. The stairs had been removed, leaving the unusually large hallway.
We went outside to try to get a peak into the second floor windows but saw only the bare walls and ceiling at an angle. What ever was up there still would remain a mystery. Why would such trouble have been done to not only board off the second floor, but to make it look like there was no second floor at all? What was it that needed to be so completely hidden?
With out causing damage to the ceiling inside, there was no way to get up to the second floor, so it remains a mystery.
As we were driving away, however, our senses finally picked up on a faint lingering energy. Alyse stopped the truck before I said anything and we both turned back to look at the house once more. A shadow moved in the upstairs window. It was very distinct, not faded or misty and moved from one end of the bank of windows to the other. It seemed to move with a jerky kind of walk and the shadow was not symmetrical, one shoulder being quite a bit higher than the other.
Alyse and I looked at each other, looked back; it was still there, moving slightly from side to side as if it were shifting from foot to foot. We left, went down the road, then separately wrote down what we had seen. When we compared what we had recorded, it was almost exactly the same.
What still remains on the hidden second floor of Blood House? And why was it sentenced to stay there and be forgotten?
It’s tucked away on a back county road used occasionally by big lumber trucks.
The abandoned train station peeked through the overgrown brush. The train stopped coming here years ago. The tracks, no longer maintained, are covered with thick underbrush.
This magnificent station, once the busy depot for travelers to stretch their legs by perusing the variety of shops, now only gets visits from the local wildlife. Beautiful stain glass windows at the main entrance are now shattered. Center pillars once holding the foundation have crumbled away, leaving the rebar sticking up like King Arthur's sword in the stone.
Remains of scattered invoices, dating well over a decade ago, indicate that perhaps this station was used as a trading place for merchants & farmers.
Wait.... an unused ticket stub in the rubble. In the distance can be heard the faint sound of a train whistle. Maybe the train will make one more stop.
We thought at first this was a deserted motel—quick! Theme from Psycho—wonk!! Wonk!! Wonk! Deserted because, perhaps, there were several unfortunate murders involving a man dressing up as his mother…
But no, this was a deserted apartment building. Still… it had been professionally gutted; every useable fixture, appliance or counter top had been taken out. Each unit was a mirror image of the unit next to it. Big metal I-beams ran the length of the complex, the roof was tin. Each unit was open at the top to the two units on each side. I guess they took the sheet rock or paneling that hid this feature.
I was amazed at how clean it was. No piles of beer cans or broken bottles, candy wrappers, etc. Sure, there was plaster and cement pieces on the floor, but it did not seem to have been taken over as a party spot by teenagers or a temporary dwelling by the homeless. Maybe it had just been gutted… or maybe… something horrible happened here. Something so horrible that it caused the closing of this apartment complex. All the people moved out… those that were left (ominous music in the background).
Interestingly, there were two newer units added at the end. Both of them were in worse shape than the others—some of the roof was gone and plants were growing where the living room used to be. It looked almost as if they had started to build these additions, then just suddenly… stopped. Could it be that what ever happened started here, where building these units… disturbed something? Maybe… woke something up?
There was no “for sale” sign, no sign what so ever of what had happened. Just bare walls… except for these three words written on the wall and door of one of the units. What could it mean? What happened here? And more important, who would paint the doors teal??? This mystery just keeps getting deeper and deeper.
After talking to the next door neighbors, then the owners, we found out the true story. Fact is indeed a thousand times stranger than fiction. But after our visit and looking over artifacts from what had happened that the owner still kept, I am reluctant to say more. I am afraid of calling that name, of drawing the attention of things better left asleep…
During one of our first Field Operations, we came across a spectacular find. It was an entire tiny village, completely abandoned. After getting permission from those nearby, we explored all the buildings we could find.
We started as we usually do at a new site; with an overview of the entire area. There were two houses, a store and several out buildings; some of which we still can not identify. The houses at one time had been large and roomy, the store small. We found the well, open with water still visable in the bottom. The grounds looked like they were mowed on an infrequent basis. The feel was empty, isolated. Energy still moved here, but it was faint.
We continued our inspection inside the first home. On the first floor there still hung suit jackets, as
if the owners would shortly be back for them. The roof on this house had been taken off. We came to that
conclusion because it was really gone—the tin as well as the beams on the top.
The next building was completely collapsed, but enough of it remained to see that it had been a barn. But it had a large cellar. A barn with a cellar..? Mystified, we investigated the next building. Near it was the well.
We continued to the second home. It also had been cleaned out well, except for a towel hanging as if waiting for someone to reach for it at any moment. Still solid, most of the roof had been completely removed. By humans or strong winds, we could not determine. There was a second barn, in better repair, nearby.
We had saved the store for last. It still had old receipts and bills; records of bread and other items delivered and bought. The stairs up to the second floor had a place underneath that had been enclosed with a door. Inside it still had the remnants of a pad on the floor. It made us wonder what had lived in that place. Going up the rickety steps we made it to the second floor. That’s when we noticed the first oddity. The building had not developed leaks, so most of the interior was still intact. The tiny door in the attic wall was barred from the outside. There was no lock on it, so it had not been used to store valuables. So, what had been in there that they had to bar the door against? We tried to open it, but it was jammed shut, and to tell the truth, we didn’t really want to open it all that bad. There was a certain feeling, almost a smell, of wild animal and…fear.
The people we talked to said this small village had been abandoned for a long time and the decay, such as the collapsed barn, supported this. So if it had been empty for so long, how did the recent dead deer carcass wind up in the midst of the village buildings? What ever had caused the residence to leave had happened over a period of time, as evidenced by the lack of furniture and other items in the buildings. Except for the strange suits and towel. So some had left, but other stayed until they just… disappeared one day? And if whatever made the people leave happened a long time ago, what had gotten the deer? Was there still some… thing… around the village, unable or unwilling to leave?
The following remind me of one of the few Monty Python TV shows I watched. In it, they kept showing a photo of the same tree and saying clearly “The Larch.” These photos, although of the same tree and stump, were taken at different times and to me show different moods. I know, it’s all snow, it’s all cold. But remember, the Norse have over 25 (or more) words to describe different types of frozen precipitation. I have come to appreciate many different types since I have been in Boone. Many more than snow, ice, sleet and freezing rain…
Mays Village, Winter, 2002
Outside, going back to the truck we came across this deer. Most of the body was still intact, so it was not a hunter’s left over carcass. One of the legs lay near it and the expression on its face frozen by death was horror filled. We both got the shivers as a cold wind suddenly blew from the direction of the store and the wild animal smell got stronger. What had killed this deer, then just left it? Was there significance to it’s ripped off leg? Why had no other animals come to claim and eat the carcass, not even maggots?
