The House

          As I drove my mom to work on a Friday afternoon we went past this house. We discussed how it fit so perfectly with all the things I have been learning in my Haunted Landscapes course. On my way home I stopped to take a few photos. My dad works at the elementary school in Port Burwell and he told vague stories of past families who had lived there while the house was already in a tragic state of decay.

          I sent some of my friends the photos when I got home, two of them expressed a desire to go and see it for themselves. So, as Reading Week had just approached, that Monday morning I went and picked up H and M and we drove out to Port Burwell. When we got there, we discussed our intentions of the trip. We sat and debated for a while as to whether or not we would dare to venture in. We reviewed our values, our images in our community, and our desires. After a bit of a delay, we got out of the van, walked up to the front of the house, snapped a few pictures, and then took off to the back of the house. To our surprise, there was no back door; instead, just an empty doorframe. I was the first to enter in, going slowly, watching my step and freely taking photos as M and H closely followed behind. We only stayed in for a few seconds, long enough to peer around the corner and see some of the possessions that had been left behind by the numerous home owners that came and went.