The old house.

I was riding down highway 61 looking for a place to get some interesting shots for a project, when I saw an old, mostly overgrown, dirt road leading off into the morning mist. The tingling sense of adventure bit me in the ass as I turned and heady slowly down the abandoned road.

The old derelict two story brick colonial farmhouse stood upon a small rise, surrounded by ancient unattended lilacs and honey suckle. I carefully entered . The dank damp smell of mildew and dust filled the air. The old mortar was crumbling and made me cautious as I moved slowly through what I imagined was a once beautiful home. I thought about the people who once lived there and the kind of lives they lead. It was a little spooky and the noise of scurrying feet and the wind blowing through broken window added to the haunted house ambience.

I walked into what once was a large kitchen. A large old cast iron cook stove sat against one wall and a beam of sunlight shone through the dust motes striking an old copper teakettle on the stove. There it was the shot I was looking for.

I set up my tripod and camera quickly and started shooting as the sunbeam slowly moved away.
A sparkly flash of light occurred as pressed the shutter and I took a few my shots so I would have some chance of getting the perfect image. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I heard a soft moaning sound. There was a bang behind and a white flash again. I quickly turned but saw nothing.

As my heartbeat slowed I left the house and walked around taking more photos of the outside getting some nice images of the old place. I was happy with how the shoot had gone and got back into my old trusty jeep and headed down the road.

Later when I was loading the images into my computer, something in the first image that shook me to my core. There next to the stove, was a translucent image of a young women reaching for the teapot.

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