Every Footprint Left a Mark

It was middle school the first time I went into the house.

The drive to and from home took us down a winding, unmarked paved road. That house sat a few hundred yards off the road, down a lengthy driveway long overgrown and a rusty chain discouraging visitors. The roof and part of the attic were the only visible parts, the window in the attic tiny and shattered, a black scab on the chipped white clapboard exterior. I made up stories about that home for years. Its only neighbor was another ancient farmhouse, home to my friend Althea.

Althea’s house was creepy anyway. It was from the 1920s and had an elevator that ran up its 3 floors. It always had a sense of chilly dampness. One night Althea and I were there alone and we made the mistake of playing the video game “Doom” during a storm with all the lights off. We scared ourselves so badly we slept with the covers over our heads, frightened of every noise.

When we were 13 we decided it was time to see the abandoned house. We crossed the fences that lined the abandoned driveway and walked through the overgrown field, down to the front of the house. It sat on the side of a creek with deep banks, and the ground around it was a marsh. Every footprint left a mark in the mud. It was two stories tall, wooden, with a brick chimney at one end. The front door was broken open and all the windows were smashed.

We went in anyway.

The house was full. There were records in their sleeves in the cabinets, dishes in the sink, a moldy couch in the living room, knickknacks on the shelves. The living room had bright pink paint peeling off the wall. There were photos strewn on the floor; I was scared to look at them. Some of the stairs leading to the second floor were missing so I didn’t try to go upstairs. Althea did. She said it was the same as downstairs: as if a whole life had been left. I felt like I was both spying on a life and being watched.

We got scared and walked around back of the house, where it looked like the trees were slowly marching through the mud toward the house to take it back. I stepped on something soft and it popped up. It was a teddy bear with one eye.

I’ll never forget that teddy bear.

(not the actual house; it was bigger, more wooded and scarier. But very similar feel.)