Goodbye love

Pippin the Pony rubs his nose on his friends shoulder. Why is he on the ground like that? It's not right! He gives him a slight bite. Come on! Get up you old fool. Finally, the other horse lifts his head just slightly. What?
"Get a move on."
"Not today, tomorrow maybe"
"No, it's now or never. They say the world will end today!"
"Psss. You've got it all twisted. That's not yet."
He rests his head again, and close his black eyes, too tired to even shake the flies off him. Pippin sighs.
"No, I don't and you know it"
 His pal open his eyes again and looks back at him for a moment. Then he shuts them again and mumbles: "You're crazy"
 Pippin sighs again and walk away. He can almost feel something. He doesn’t bother with what it is, he just knows it's time to walk away. Someone’s world is ending, that's for sure. He knew it this morning already. Something had gone from the creature on the ground. Now, in the dark of the night he had felt unsure who it even was. He couldn’t feel his presence any more, but his scent was the same. He didn’t look back. The grass was long and green, the moon was full and cold, so cold. It chilled him to the very core. But there was no revelations or salvation in what lay behind him. What was lost was lost.

Factory in the dark

I'd been walking for about 45 minutes when I first spotted it. I'd heard the rumours online earlier that day. So when I got home from school, I changed into something warmer and started walking, walking and walking, for 45 minutes alone in the dark. There was a comforting distance between the street lights out here, and the fog had settled for the night. I spotted a sign I'd been looking for sooner then I'd expected. The camping spot by the lake. In 2006, the neighbours had complained about the terrible smell from the factory that had been shut down 11 years prior to that. This is how I'd known where to find it. Soon, a tall fence emerges from the fog along the road. In the dark I can only see the fence, but my breath slowly becomes uneven, weather it was from seeing something I'd previously only read about online or from the anticipation of the hideous smell of rotting animals that had plagued the neighbourhood after the abandonment of the building. I continue along, past the gate. I see a woman outside one of the nearby houses, smoking. I keep walking past and continue till I get to a church. I stop at the parking lot, idly studying it while activating the GPS on my phone. I walk back to the gate, pass it, turn, pass it, turn, until finally I see no more headlights in the fog, in either direction. I feel real conspicuous by now. I'd checked the location (needlessly, unless I'd be struck by a serious case of amnesia), and now I bounce clumsily through the frozen slush to have a look at the gate. My eyes had not failed me, it is actually open. I happily walk away. I will definitely be back.

A few hours later it's gone, demolished. Oh well, it had been demolished more then a year ago, but to me it had only been gone since just now. I had been too eager to find it to actually finish reading the full thread of comments on the topic online. There I found it. Right at the end. The foggy dark nothingness had actually been nothing but nothingness stuffed with fog and framed by barbed wire. This is what you get when scouting in the dark. Factories that only exists at night and only to those who don't know otherwise.

Change of perspective

<< Fiction... sort of >>

I’m walking in the dark. I’ve been walking for a while now and I’m cold, but I’m enjoying the cool winter night grately. A path leads away from the main road. It looks like a private road, but I’m flowing with curiousity and I want to see where it goes. Venturing along it, I spot a house on a hilltop against the heavy, grey clouds. The cloudes are looks in the mood for a heavy snowfall on the hilltop and the defenceless, dark house. It’s very small and weathered, I know cause I’ve been keeping an eye on it. But I won’t near it, not till I’m sure. Some other day, I’m walking up to the graveyard gates, conscious that I’m not alone. The car on the parking lot behind me starts up and pulls out behind me. I listen for it carefully, deciding when it’s out of view, while I still walk inconspicuously across the graveyard, not looking back, just listening. When the car is out of earshot, I change my direction, hop the fence and track trough the woods. I’m not here to check on the dead, but the abandoned, the lonely and the decaying. The one I’m looking for is sitting right where it was last spotted. I walk along the fence while I quickly survey the spot.

• No lights on: Check!

I slow down and look around to make sure I’m alone. There could still be people inside though. Strange people, people with shotguns, people who doesn’t like other people. I look around for other signs.

• Vehicles of any kind: None
• The standard trashcans: Nope.
• Grass: Long.
• Vegetation: Mildly overgrown. Looks to be fruit trees. Which means they’ve been tended to at some point, but maybe not in resent years

I’m fairly fresh to this sort of activity, still I go through the points methodically. This place sure looks to be lost in space and time, between money and the will to use it, but one never knows. It actually, on closer inspection, looks far less decayed then I remember it. It may be down to the asbestos clad walls, but the overgrown garden, the peeling paint and the chimney sweep asking the graveyard keepers whether it was inhabited, is not enough. I see no broken or boarded windows, no open doors. You’d be surprised at the places people live.

I’m walking across a graveyard with my mum. I know the church next to me well, but lately it’s has taken on a new shine. While still chatting casually with my mum, I turn on a small flashlight and check out the holes in the foundation. “What are you doing that for?” my mum asks a tiny bit worried. Earlier they used to only awake dread in me and at work we used them for storage, but now I’m getting curious. They’re not as deep as I’d imagined, and inside I can see that the foundation is devided into at least 6 separate rooms. Makes sense that they wouldn’t build such a big church on just one big hole like I’d imagined, and though I figured the openings where for airing it out, I never understood until now why there were so many. What am I going to use this knowledge for? I don’t know... You tell me what you’re going to use the absence of this knowledge for?