Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-30307610-20171028210302

2013, the year Ylvis released “What does the Fox say?”, Miley Cyrus made the twerking trend famous, we lost Paul Walker,in a car accident of all things, and “Hump Day” became the office joke on Wednesday. This was the year I came across one of those “Top 10 Haunted Places” videos for the first time. I tried finding it again when writing this story but got roughly seven million results. This kind of thing appears to be real popular now.

I would go into more detail about what the movie was like, but while I was searching for it I saw about ten of them before giving up. They were all the same.

One of the 10 places though was right near me, an old abandoned orphanage from 1820, it was condemned around 1940. So I decided to do a bit of urban exploration and see what was up. I packed up some granola bars and water bottles. Grabbed my phone (fully charged) and a couple of flashlights and set out. I was glad I wore my hiking boots, apparently this place was up a big hill, hidden in the woods. By the time I got to the front of the building the sun was starting to set.

And here was my first hurdle. Apparently I was not the first person to try this. Solid Iron gates topped with barbed wire, chain link fence lining the bottom. I started walking around the perimeter. Boards were covering most of the windows, and there were signs on the doors that I couldn't make out at this distance. I eventually came to a kink in the fence. Someone had way more foresight than me and used something to pry one of the iron bars back. It was bent at an almost ninety degree angle, just enough for me to slip through.

By this time I needed my flashlight.

I took it out.

Clicked it on.

And nothing happened.

The light was dead.

I shook the flashlight just to make sure and heard twigs breaking. I almost leaped out of my god damned skin. You know that feeling you get, when you're doing something you know you shouldn't be doing, but you do it anyway. That hyper awareness you get that sends you on edge every time a sound is made. It was like that, except I was sure an axe murderer was about to chop my head off.

I waited. Didn't hear anything else. I put the flashlight back and grabbed my backup. Clicked it on and was bathed in blinding light (probably shouldn't have been looking right at it). As the spots cleared from my eyes I swept the light back and forth, observing, more closely, my would be adventure. Most of the windows were boarded up and the doors were covered in this caution tape. I tried a few doors but they were all locked. Not wanting to waste the trip though, I figured I would look around some more before giving up.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">They were also made of this heavy steel, which I thought was weird for an orphanage, but admittedly I don't know much about them. I continued until I found a door with a knocked out panel. It seemed big enough to squeeze through so I did. Put my backpack through first and then shimmied my way in.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">There was a noticeable stale wood smell. Not quite rotting, but somehow both dry and humid at the same time. An oppressive air. The walls were tattered and worn and it looked like maybe looters or whoever condemned the place took all the siding and carpet. It was bare wood panels. Scraps of torn up wallpaper hung out into the hall, yellowed and cracked over the years.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">There wasn't too much to look at here though so I made my way in, eventually arriving at what must have been the main entrance. I was surprised to see a full piano sitting here. It was covered in dust but looked like people had touched it as they were of varying layers. It was also bolted to the floor.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I flipped up the cover and played a couple keys. It sounded out of tune but I’m no musician. I moved my flashlight across the room and looked at the staircase. The boards were faded and green, but the railings were still in nice condition. A few of the posts were missing, but they almost seemed to shine in the light. I took a tentative step onto the staircase, worried that my foot would fall through the rotting wood. It creaked and moaned, but it held me.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">Upstairs I found some old bedframes. Sixteen rusted metal frames all in a row. There were six or seven mattresses all stacked up in the corner, though it appeared that the animals had taken bits of them to use as their own bedding. Dark stains were visible as well. As I turned around, my heart lept up again. Standing behind me was large shadow. I screamed and threw my light at it.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I’ll admit, it was not my best moment. The light hit the thing, clunked, and stayed in the air. I moved closer. My flashlight was stuck halfway in the wall, on which was painted some street art.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I plucked out my light, bits of plaster falling to the floor and spreading out, creating a cloud of dust particles. The graffiti pictured a hooded man running away from a big hole in the wall. It was kinda neat now that I didn't think it was a giant monster ready to eat my face off. I moved into a side office away from the bedroom. Papers scattered over the table, drawers were ripped out, looters had clearly been looking for anything valuable.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I started humming along with the piano music, searching through the papers. They were just standard fare. Notes on the children who lived here, tax papers, accounting stuff. I threw them aside. I rifled through the filing cabinets but there really wasn't much. I walked back into the room with the grafitti. The furnace was missing. I guess it was made of steel or something. The place didn't really seem haunted at all and I had been here for a couple hours so I decided it was time to go home. As I walked back towards the stairs realization stopped me in my tracks.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">Why was the piano playing?

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I couldn't move. The notes flowed effortlessly. Someone was clearly down in the foyer playing. My only way out was cut off by someone I didn’t know, in the creepiest place I had ever been in. Slowly I walked toward the edge. Careful not to make a sound.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">The board beneath my foot gave way, and I tumbled from the second floor. I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. Someone had found me unconscious on the side of the road three days ago and brought me here. Doctors said that there wasn't anything physically wrong with me. I recounted what I could to them and they took notes. They believe that I had hit my head in the fall and wandered around for awhile until I passed out.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I still don't know what happened for that week and a half.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I still don’t know who was playing the piano. <ac_metadata title="New story I wrote for a Writing Challenge. Looking for help to make it CPW ready."> </ac_metadata>