One of the great pleasures of unscheduled (but photography focused) vacation time in an unfamiliar area comes from serendipitous discoveries of photographic opportunity. An unexpected occasion arose on the Saskatchewan trip when I came across this abandoned home¹ that stood off a gravel roadway south of the town of Specter².
The House
There was something uncanny about this house, I could feel it as I left the dusty gravel road and pulled to a stop in the driveway. There were no other homes nearby, no farms within viewing distance. No fences, no signs - just an old derelict home. It was a two story, wood-clad block of a house, faded and worn. It is common to see old deserted houses on the prairie, but this one was somewhat unusual in the many windows it had. This house had presence. It was a forsaken home of many windows, and all of them dark. And what was it that gleamed from that high dormer above?
Through the front door
I surveyed the outside first. The front door landing had collapsed, so no entry was possible there. As I walked past I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I could see pin-points of light gleaming from the shadows above the darkened stairway inside. I shrugged off the unease and continued around the house until I was at the back door.
At the Back Door
Something white and pale fluttered inside the doorway. Yet outside where I stood, there was no breeze – the air was calm in the prairie heat. Tentatively I stepped up the slanting, shifting stairs to the entrance. Loose wallpaper gusted up between the gap in the door. I felt compelled to enter.
My entrance inside was eerie – there was no creek or groan to be heard from the door as it opened. My first foot fall was met by a mass of fallen ceiling plaster, that crunched as if I were treading on ancient shattered bones. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I could see the exposed lath in the ceiling, peeling wallpaper and cracking paint. I walked on, carefully placing each footstep for fear of breaking through rotten floorboards. The door in front of me was ajar, but shadowed, so I turned to the left toward the light. I was in the dining room, the remains of a china cupboard stood in the corner.
Looking through...
The light that streamed in came from the living room (if such a label still has meaning in this forlorn place) bay windows – a surprising feature in a home that appeared so dark from the exterior. As I walked in every step crunched and crackled under my tread and reverberated throughout the house. I could not resist the occasional glance behind to see if I was still alone. Near the windows, surrounded by fallen lath and plaster, an old wringer washer was sitting. I walked to the stairs I had first seen from the front door. They seemed sturdy enough, although the top two steps were missing. As if compelled by an unknown force, I made my way carefully up the stairs, testing each step. From the last surviving step I looked around the second floor. Most of the lath from the walls had been stripped off and lay in shambles in a heap on one side of the floor. Poltergeist, I wondered? Something flapped and flurried in the attic above. I took a few pictures and retreated down the stairs.
Distressed room
The next room in my circuit was a bedroom. It had yolk-yellow walls, and the light that fell through the window revealed the stains upon the plaster. Who knows what horrible events may have caused that? Unseen hands flinging unmentionable bodies with a sinister force? A shiver went up my spine and I moved quickly on, past the dim and shadowed pantry and into the kitchen…
I tried not to think of the horrors that may have occurred here. The over-turned table, the sink removed, cupboards bare. The whole room was redolent of dismembered bodies, gushing liquids and foul smelling dish cloths. I could not remain in this ominous
The demonic lintel
building any longer. I reached for the kitchen door, only to pause. For there above me, shining out from the cracked paint of the lintel, was the clear expression of a demonic grin! I staggered back, took a quick picture, then fled back through the house, footsteps cracking, crunching behind me until I was out the back door.
In the sun again – fresh air and light. I took a deep breath. Nothing pursued me. The windows were dark again. I could feel their gaze upon me as I made my way back to the car. I took one last fleeting look through the bedroom window and froze in my shoes – there, silhouetted against the dim light, was the unmistakable form of a…
¹See ‘The House of Dread’
²…er, sorry, that’s ‘Sceptre‘
Born in Canada, but of Dutch descent, my early life was influenced by travels with a constantly moving family. We moved through Canada and South Africa until I reached the age of 17, when we settled down in Edmonton, Alberta. Over the years I have developed a multitude of interests which I now share by means of photography and blogging.
