As she drove along, Max watched for any appearance of some car or truck with trepidation; and when she was finally within sight of the house and away from the road, her nerves were on high alert.

The surrounding land was vast by her standards, and she wasn’t sure how much actually belonged to the house, or the distant neighbors, or even maybe the swamp itself. She’d come in from the Spillway Road and neither it or anything nearby seemed well kept. She’d drove through lush green for so long it had deafened the nearby highway.

Max’s thoughts would not stay silent, but she still enjoyed the vast gray tree trunks contrasted with dark green brush that almost hid the silent and still water reflecting the light and color. She carefully drove up the long drive and through a wide, old pecan orchard that beautifully framed a monster of a house. It had once been a large handsome wood and brick building, standing tall where the ground rose up naturally and then gently began descending again behind it into dense trees. What once was cheerful blue and yellow paint had faded to a grimmer shade, and some form of climbing plant had annexed the right side of the house all the way to the second story balcony. Half of the front ornamental bushes had died, while the rest overgrew the great double staircase. Max was thrilled. Here was a place nature had hidden, and no one had destroyed it in the quest more suburban sprawl. She thought for a second how exciting restoring such a location would be, to truly see it shine again and be appreciated, instead of let to rot from indifference or bulldozed to put in a gas station.

She continued up the drive and around to the front of the door where a large rock strewn area might have once been a gravel drive. Though Max’s car was clean and engine well maintained, it showed signs of a long hard use and the dents and badly needed paint job gave the impression it belonged next to the fading house. Getting out of the car and examining its intricate architecture, her fear of finding a owner returned. She worried its abandoned appearance may be a facade brought on by neglect. She casually began walking the grounds around the house, radiating what she hoped appeared “stupid tourist”, figuring it wasn’t that far from the truth, and making a show of taking pictures with her phone. The area was overgrown of course, and any cultured landscaping long ago lost the fight to natural vegetation, but the area was peaceful, and while lacking elegance, was trying to hold up with aging dignity. On eventually reaching the back she found badly decaying lawn furniture, a pool overrun with algae, and not one car, truck, motorcycle or any other reasonable form of transportation, confirming her speculation the place was abandoned, and free to be examined and poked at her leisure for now at least.

The front door was locked, as were a variety of side doors, back doors, even the second story balcony door. However, seeing as the place seemed to have an extraordinary amount of windows, Max wasn’t surprised when she finally found an unlocked one near the back corner. It led into what looked like a laundry room that opened into a rather forgotten bathroom and into a hall. There were no lights on and the only window shutters open were the ones she’d come through; the place was silent and covered in dust with a certain amount of trash and brick-a-brack stuck in corners or along the wall. Despite all these signs she slinked forward instinctively, terrified each doorway hid a enraged occupant waiting to spring on her for trespassing. The rooms were lofty and elegant, and the furniture modern, but well chosen to best compliment the house, but the rooms were obliviously unused, uncleaned, and in a variety of states of disorder, that would not be consistent with normal foot traffic. Eventually she tried a light switch as one would try to touch the tail of a rattlesnake, but the room retained its murky gloom and she felt marginally better as the evidence mounted up.

Max had a good time walking through the downstairs, speculating where the original floorplan remained, and what changes and additions more recent owners brought about. She pursued idle fantasies on how she would restore the place, and how best to repair its many deficiencies acquired by abuse and neglect. It was a fun game she’d played before in other, less impressive real estate. She eventually found some sort of study or entertainment room. It was darker than the others but there was a computer on a lopsided desk and a tv on one wall. More trash seemed to be strewn about this room and piles of plates and cloths were partially covering selves and overflowing side tables. Carefully avoiding piles of clutter thrown about the room she crept along to examine the bookshelves. Frustrated by the mounting mess, she finally flicked on the phone’s screen as a makeshift flashlight near a particularly sprawling pile of clothes and blankets. The pile moved and a yellow eye opened. Max dropped her phone.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4