Gothic

I have turned my love of urban exploration into a career. I love the idea of people living vicariously through my visits to places long since abandoned and dead.

Every location I have traversed has felt devoid of life, but not this one. There is a thrum coming off the masonry, a singular agonized moan echoing through time.

Every fiber of my being tells me to stay out, but the call of the gothic structure is too insistent. It is hypnosis of a sort, and I am in its thrall. I push my way inside feel like I am home.

Abatoir

No amount of research delivered information about the abandoned building. It is as though it fell to earth from on high, only to hide among dense grass and trees, shielding it from view.

I found the place by mistake, and now I need to know what Google won’t tell. As soon as I step inside, I am assaulted by a fetid smell and the tailing off of dying screams.

The walls are covered in skins of all varieties. Some are recognizable, while others are, well, other. This is a collection, and I can only wonder where the collector is hiding.

Long Gone

We wonder if tress make a sound when they fall when there is no one there to witness their demise. What about the dead? Do they still roam in places no one dares to tread?

The cameras were all set up in daytime, when the abandoned hospital seemed still and almost peaceful. We watch the feeds as night falls, waiting for questions to be answered.

It does not take long for the first one to appear. Old, frail, and slowly shuffling. She turns to point at the camera, and static rains down, wiping the feed. All the others soon follow.