As I wake up in my res and unravel my closed curtains, an image of a single abandoned house clouds my vision. It welcomes me every morning as the suns rays capture its delicate structure, but as the night approaches a different view comes into mind. Rhodes students refer to this deserted building as ‘The Haunted House’ on the hill, but as a curious future journalist I knew I had to embrace the challenge of approaching the house at full moon.
Driving towards the old building I felt anxious and nervous, as a shiver of adrenalin raced up my spine. I had expected a house, a simple deserted building; however the reality of my expectations became limited as my imagination continued to race. As we approached the house my heart sunk into my stomach and my breath gradually became shorter. There were no windows or doors and the scattered glass surrounded our feet, and as I stepped into the building the darkness blackened my thoughts. Although my adrenalin was at its peak, I couldn’t help but to feel calm as stillness embraced the atmosphere. Looking out from the house, I couldn’t take my eyes off the glowing moon. Someone once lived here, created memories here, but as the memories continue to fade the buildings homely warmth had vanished. Everybody has a story to tell and I was certain that this house had many, and it gave me one to embrace.
Driving away from the house I felt a feeling of excitement as the fear of entering into such a dark space had disappeared. Although there wasn’t much to see, the atmosphere created many feelings of hope. As a young journalist, I am always searching for the thrill of it, and as I wake up and unravel my closed curtains, I look up at the “haunted” house and know that it has another story, a moment, with me in it.
Driving towards the old building I felt anxious and nervous, as a shiver of adrenalin raced up my spine. I had expected a house, a simple deserted building; however the reality of my expectations became limited as my imagination continued to race. As we approached the house my heart sunk into my stomach and my breath gradually became shorter. There were no windows or doors and the scattered glass surrounded our feet, and as I stepped into the building the darkness blackened my thoughts. Although my adrenalin was at its peak, I couldn’t help but to feel calm as stillness embraced the atmosphere. Looking out from the house, I couldn’t take my eyes off the glowing moon. Someone once lived here, created memories here, but as the memories continue to fade the buildings homely warmth had vanished. Everybody has a story to tell and I was certain that this house had many, and it gave me one to embrace.
Driving away from the house I felt a feeling of excitement as the fear of entering into such a dark space had disappeared. Although there wasn’t much to see, the atmosphere created many feelings of hope. As a young journalist, I am always searching for the thrill of it, and as I wake up and unravel my closed curtains, I look up at the “haunted” house and know that it has another story, a moment, with me in it.
Nadine Mather
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