On a cloudy, somber day, with a promise of rain in the air, I set out on a journey to uncover the secrets held at the scene off Rice Rips Road. Armed solely with a cryptic set of coordinates and my own ambitions, I took it upon myself to discover the truth about this mysterious site.
As I pulled up to an uninviting gate, the pattering of raindrops atop the car’s roof added further to the melancholic feel of the entire excursion. The coordinates had taken me to a place devoid of people and to a clearing past the gate. The sound of rushing water surrounded me. I followed a long black pipe with running water, observing a stream to my left. A crack in the pipe allowed for a leak onto the trail, adding to the rain’s effect on the ground. The scene was intriguing, with slick foliage all around and a mysterious building further down the path.

I met an entrance before I even knew it as the anticipation and curiosity put me on autopilot during the walk. I ventured inside and the cold and dampness deepened the eeriness of the entire journey and the atmosphere surrounding me. Could a criminal have once called this his home while on the run? Could death still be lingering in the air I breathe? So many thoughts were racing through my mind as I continued into the depths of this abandoned building. The rain especially gave way to a sinister thought: Could this be a place where cries for help would be swallowed by the unforgiving rain?
Inside was a barren corridor and a chilling room. Ridden of all signs of life, this room was one of the most eerie regions I came across. Nothing but stained walls, a metal grate, and jagged rocks riddled the space. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to the possibilities and history this room could hold. Was there once a person captive in here? A lair of sorts?

This whole experience of wandering around with only coordinates and my curiosity to lead me was very exhilarating. I left the space feeling quite fulfilled in my findings and observations but with some lingering questions in my mind. (373)