I Walk Up the Stairs in Darkness

I love the thought of abandon houses. I love the thought of plantation homes of the Deep South. I love the thought of an old log cabin. I love the thought of a castle. And I love the thought of old Western ranch homes. Essentially I love the thought of any place that I think has the potential for (1) and adventure (2) a hidden room/store place or (3) lots of history. Places to hide your gold. Places to hide from the Indians. Places to store valuables from greedy relations. Places for future generations to find.

I want to explore these places. I want to find their secrets. Their dungeons. Their hidden staircases. Their secret closets.

I pretend and dream. And sometimes when its dark outside and the wind is howling I walk up the stairs. Pop. Squeak. Crrrreeeeek. Sometimes I wish I had a flashlight. Sometimes I wonder what's waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Will someone jump out? Will I fall through the floor? Alas, its only my house. And I know where the lightswitch is when I reach the top of the stairs. But sometime, sometime, that story might be different. I have prepared myself mentally. An abandoned house. A dreary castle. A lone log cabin. Those buildings call my name.

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