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?