Chris' Christian Blog

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O{/drpcap}n the house- The Blogging Circle of Friends prompt for "March 10, 2017 is "The Subtle Temple-- write us a poem or story about discovering a long lost building. Describe the place with humanistic qualities (i.e) smiling gates, toothy windows. What was the building intended for and what is it used for now? Let's see some creativity ..."

I remember when I was a child we lived way out in the country. The place we lived was a valley with high hills on both sides. On top of one of the hills sat a row of abandoned houses. Some of the houses were caving in and nobody dared go near them. A few however were still in decent shape and invited strangers with open arms. During the summer nobody would enter any of the houses or even go near them for that matter. There was a serious danger of poisonous snakes because the place was polluted with copperheads. During the winter however when there was little danger of snakes the houses were often a respite. I remember hunting in that location many times. There were two approaches to the community. One was the direct approach, which meant climbing an almost vertical hill. The other was the indirect approach which meant walking nearly a mile. I often chose the indirect approach, especially when hunting because it gave me a better chance of finding game. It was also a much easier way to get there since there was an old road that led directly to the houses. The road snaked it's way up a gradual incline until it nearly reached the peak of the hill. The ridge was still about a quarter of a mile beyond the houses and the last quarter of a mile was up a steep 10 percent incline that often found you practically crawling as you grabbed for anything to help you climb. So anybody who had been up the hill before knew to rest in the small community of buildings before going on. Even in the summer it was safe to stop at the outskirts and rest as long as one watched for snakes.

I remember those old houses clearly. They always looked lonely and forlorn with their downcast roofs and their sad looking windows. In the late fall my siblings and I would sneak off to the settlement and play. Usually we would sit around and tell ghost stories. What is the purpose of going into an old abandoned house if not to scare oneself witless with ghost stories? I remember that every time it was my turn to tell a story, which it was usually always my turn, even the house seemed to take part. Often when i'd reach the climax of the story an animal would move or the wind would howl and everybody, myself included, would bolt from the house in a panic. I remember looking back many times and getting the most eerie feeling from the house. Today if I get that feeling from a house I avoid it. After having my skull fractured in a childhood accident, I have become acutely aware of nuances about houses that others are never aware of. I have actually helped the police solve crimes as a result. So looking back perhaps there was more to those old houses than met the eye. At the time I was simply to young to know.