this abandoned house has a bit more family connection. or more accurately, it missed having a family connection. it's apparently a house that my grandfather considered buying when he instead chose what is known in our family as "the house on the creek" (pronounced "crick").
with nine children, this house is bigger, so i can imagine that he should probably have chosen it. but i can also understand why he chose the other one, as it was tucked away down a winding road in a most charming way. tho' i have always wondered how they all fit in those small rooms. i can still hear my aunt saying, "this was the girls' room." and "this was the boys' room." pointing at two small rooms upstairs.
i haven't heard any tales of this house being haunted, but when i walked over to it to take photos, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. it's easier to visit these houses together with others - if you're alone, your imagination begins to work overtime.
i stepped inside to snap some interior shots and heard a creaking sound upstairs. tho' it was the middle of the afternoon and sunny and bright out, a chill ran down my spine. then i heard little footsteps - it was likely just a raccoon. but i'll admit i stepped back outside, in case it was a skunk. or something else.
this one did have a slightly more spooky look than some of the others we visited. big, square, imposing, windows broken, holes in the roof, peeling paint. it just had a spooky air about it.
these old houses only whisper their stories and it's hard to catch those whispers. there is a sadness and a haunted quality about some (but not all) of them. i wonder what they think of being allowed to fall apart? i wonder if they care or if it makes them sad? i wonder if somehow they hold within them the echoes of those who lived there, even when they're long gone? i wonder if those voices can still be heard, if you listen in just the right way?
exploring these old houses was one of the high points of our trip. they fascinate me. i think i'm not done pondering why.
