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Secret church basement basketball court. Perth Western Australia.
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I know what that's for.
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Hahaha they mocked him for playing in sandals, but they couldn't deny he had game.
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Hahaha they mocked him for playing in sandals, but they couldn't deny he had game.
Oops, looks like I scored a double double.
[last edit 10/17/2018 5:21 AM by Big Poppa - edited 2 times]
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Instagram
"Adventure is worthwhile in itself." -Amelia Earhart | |
The golden hour was quickly dissipating and in its place a brisk chill began to fill the air. As the late November sun effortlessly slid below the horizon, the last of its rays cast a vibrant red-orange hue across the pavement littered with fallen Autumn leaves, slick as ice, for like a quilt they covered the asphalt below, still wet from the morning dew, never given the chance to evaporate. The last remaining light infiltrated through the numerous large and charming patient windows, the sills strangled with ivy beginning to tarnish with the changing of the season. For a few brief moments, shadows cast from the setting sun turned the interior of the airy, vacant asylum into a silent movie theater. A wall covered in paint peeling like skin flaking off a sunburnt back acted as the stage screen backdrop upon which shadow puppets danced jubilantly across the walls. I watched in awe as the shadows contorted into all sorts of unrecognizable shapes and designs, before the great fiery yellow stage light of life began to dim the theater, quickly fading the stage to darkness, in turn the shadows absorbing into the black from which they arose.
Twilight provided just barely a glimmer of soft blue light, scarcely glowing, yet discernible enough from the pitch blackness for us to follow out to safety. We each squeezed past and like a pregnant pig, the fence birthed us, one-by-one though its freshly cut hole, as we snorted and squealed making jokes the entire time. But it was time to be quite, for we were newborns now and the world that lay ahead of us was dark, perilous, and full of unknown. Like baby sea turtles staggering in unison toward the reflection of the moon bouncing off the waves, significant of the safety of the ocean, we ran for our lives toward the white light raining down from the tall poles, erect in the distance, illuminating our own safety sea of asphalt. But between us and the blacktop, danger lurked and if caught we'd certainly be swallowed up in wave of tickets and red and blue lights. We just had to keep moving and we did, donning the cover of darkness like a camouflage jumpsuit. I can remember reaching the asphalt first, the overwhelming sense of safety overtaking me as lay down between the reflective painted lines where cars once parked. I watched as my friends soon followed, each collapsing to the ground upon arriving. The neon strip malls lights signified our arrival to safety, we had all made it back unscathed. The car horn beeped twice while its headlights blinked, as if it was flirting with us. As the engine turned over we all packed in, covered in grime whilst all looking enthralled, from our successful adventure into Fernald.
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Abandoned junk collector's house
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ECUE | |
Strips of saturated ceiling tiles sag like synthetic stalactites dangling from the roof of the artificial cave. The darkness within manufactured, held prisoner by moldy, mildewed curtains drooping from a bowing ceiling, leaky as a nimbostratus filled sky; a manmade cavern indeed. A skulk of red foxes ahead, my imagination quickly plays about my eyes, all beautiful and sleek, standing about within a semi-circle arrangement, glaring back savagely, their glossy black eyes gleaming under the slight of moon light penetrating in through the mouth of the cave. I am an intruder into their home. With my torch fully illuminated and aimed straight ahead I carefully monitor for the slightest of hostile movements. Guardedly, I move forward traipsing across fallen leaves dried to a crisp scattered about the cave floor, blown in by a winters wind. The foliage crunching under the weight of my footsteps like curling asbestos tiles laid across a water damaged basement, the sound spoiling my best instincts to be quiet. Ahead, an opening in the cavern ceiling above provides a glimpse up toward the outside sky. I gaze up in amazement at the stars, lively they twinkle as if reflections refracting off of a massive chandelier orbiting within the heavens above.
Forward I march. The moonlight emanating in through the opening mouth of the cave now exists as just a polished pinhole a distance away, an Exit Sign ignored, as I spelunk deeper into the unknown. My torch highlights a vertical rock face which presents itself as a natural ladder into an alternative, deeper dimension. Carefully I ascend, feeling the dampness of the earthen rungs soak my bare hands with cool, placid moisture. Hoisting myself above the highest of the rocks toward a teetering ledge, I squeeze and confront my body through a narrow fissure which opens up into a cavernous rock room. Like a mezzanine high above the main stage, I am able to peek out over the distance my travels have covered, as the white light piercing in through the skyward opening adjusts to the luminosity of my eyes. Goosebumps coat my arms as I scan my surroundings. I am not alone. At my side, I am accompanied by a large silhouetted figure, slumped over like a giant hope chest, carelessly stowed decades ago within the darkest recesses of a cluttered attic. I fear to move. A growl. I swear I hear it. Not wanting to startle a potential predator, I whisk my torch to the ground and sure, as best I can my trembling body.
Slowly I back step toward the crevice from which I entered. Backtracking down the rock face ladder, cold as iron, and past the skulk of foxes which now appear more like red arms chairs in the presence of my well adjusted pupils. Loosened tiles beneath my feet slick with mold crack under my toes like fallen Autumn leaves, as I hastily head toward that dilated pinhole of light, being carful not to slip. With a flash of brightness and a dousing of humidity, I am safely outside of the cave, surrounded by a thicket of deserted bungalows and overgrown tennis courts. My imagination snaps back to reality, the growling which sent me running becomes easily identifiable as a piece of sheetmetal roofing rubbing against a metal structural I-beam. Under the girthy bough of an oak tree I catch my breath and wait for my heart to calm. Before my very eyes, the cave morphs back into the decrepit theater for which it truly exists. Again, I enter through a blown open door for the second time now. I bow with my hands cupping my knees before taking a seat upon a red chair which just minutes ago was some terrifying troglodyte. Funny how the mind can conjure up such false realities.
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Instagram
"Adventure is worthwhile in itself." -Amelia Earhart | |
Instagram
"Adventure is worthwhile in itself." -Amelia Earhart | |
Instagram
"Adventure is worthwhile in itself." -Amelia Earhart | |
ECUE | |
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Explored CREEPY ABANDONED House!! Saw A GHOST!!
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Croatian Concrete Palace
 Croatian Concrete Palace by stealthwraith, on Flickr
[last edit 11/15/2018 2:36 PM by stealthwraith - edited 1 times]
Stealth: adj. designed in accordance with technology that makes detection difficult. Wraith: n. A wisp or faint trace of something | |
Defunct pumping station - severe brick pr0n!
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Vade in cloacas. | |
I'm not usually much for sewers, but that place is gorgeous!
*insert witty quote here* |
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