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|My Second Infiltration|
entry by TheEvilOne
12/8/2006 5:14 PM
|To start on this, I must set the stage.|
I was 12.
Eight streets for the 'town' I lived in.
Corn to the east, west, north, and south of me.
NO TRANSPORTATION to speak of.
and loads and loads of boredom.
A heady mixture just waiting to brew and bubble to the point of trouble.
Problem was-what could a kid do in the middle of nowheresville and actually feel accomplished?
Why-find the one of two houses on these eight streets that was empty and go exploring! (I left the grain bins and antique car garage for later)
That was my view, anyway. My idea, so I went alone. That, and I had only one friend in walking distance, and at the time, she couldn't come. Alone-I went onwards!
Now, at that time, I didn't even know what exploration in this manner was called except breaking and entering. I had no clue, no aides, no help other than the little whispers in my head telling me "Don't get caught!" to guide me in this little adventure. So, on the basis of non-experience, I decided to go to the second house that was empty and start there.
On the only main street in our town, on a crosswalk path for the school, and two houses away from both the bar-the post office-and the firestation. So, yes, even in this little burg of a spit of a town-we had traffic! Broad daylight, on a Saturday-I was risking my neck here.
The people that lived across the street and next door were (thankfully) gone for a bit. So I took an opportunity in the midst of strangely busy traffic and scuttled across the street to the grassy area between the two houses. The empty one had the grass overgrown, so I had to at least beware of a path I could leave behind wading through brambles, brush and wildflowers. The old lady next door was a nosey sorta woman-at the very least she would have called the police if she noticed. Though, thinking about it now, it would have been fourty minutes at the least before anyone showed up to take me out of there.
So, wade I did. Duck and cover when cars slunk by. I ducked and covered right quick when I heard a tractor rumbling nearby-only to find myself precariously perched on a cistern's edge that I wasn't aware of being there in the middle of the back yard! It took a second of pounding of the heart, swinging of the arms and shuffling-but I managed to avoid the Death by Pungent Waters.
Mental note to those that wander into wooded areas and lots that are in the country-Cisterns are not exactly covered correctly, nor are they marked if they are old enough. The only warning some get are rotted wooden slats covering the thirty some foot deep hole in the yard snapping when you step on them, or a sudden broken toe when you find it had been covered by a cement casing.
So, to the back door and out of range of traffic I find myself. The neighbors are still gone-and there is nothing behind me but field. Go me!
The back door, however, posed a problem. My 12 year old mind stared at it for a second before I realized what had happened. The door was boarded over from the top of the frame to a foot from the floorboards. Side to side completely covered, and no padlocks-just nails. Interesting. I knew the front door was locked-by experience. The sliding doors are in the front as well-in full view of houses, bar, and postal office. This is the only way in-that was half-way hidden from others.
Basement windows were barred-no good there. The windows were ten feet from the ground-no good there. So the only thing I could do that I could see was...investigate the boarded up doorway.
I rolled my sleeve down, tightened it around my wrist and crept into a crouch and tried to look at what I was faced with. Crude boarding!
If I slunk my skinny arm between the boards and the door, I could feasibly find the doorknob and try my luck. Between the nails, the spiders, and whatever else was in there with them-I found it.
To my wonder-someone had left the door unlocked! The biggest fool grin I could manage was slapped on while I eased the squeaky door open to reveal the somewhat crooked and frail looking basement steps below. Now-to squeeze myself between the boards and the floorboards-and not fall to whatever fate that may become of me at the bottom of those rickety steps.
It was work, but I managed-and managed not to kill myself on the abandoned bits of rusted, ragged farm equipment that was piled at the bottom of the stairs. (Whomever was the genius that decided it would be a good toss pile? May the fleas of a thousand camels infest you-and may your arms be not long enough to reach.)
I managed to remember to put something between the door and the frame-just in case I had to evacuate via basement and skulked further. Now, remember, I hadn't known what to bring, carry, do-so I realize in the midst of dust, the smell of old mold and darkness... I had no light.
Well, tip toe and hope for the best would be my plan, then.
Once I stumbled on the inner stairs to the kitchen-I was glorified to find out they didn't lock that door either. I slid on in-in awe of my luck-to stop and stare dead on to a HUGE plate glass window that had a police car idling in front of it.
Luck of all lucks-the ONE COP in the area decided to stop by our town for lunch.
I hit the tile floor with all of its debris and prayed that he hadn't seen me.
Did I mention at the time, I wasn't exactly in Cloaked Clothing? Neon blue and denim with white and black sneakers.
I waited for the car to go, and slunk on my stomach to the living room and avoided that window to stop and stare at the outside, front yard tree that was six inches away from my face.
I forgot about the sliding glass door. Go Covertness!
I remembered something from a TV show I had seen, and did a sort of crabcrawl to the side and found the upstairs stair well. There ya go. Upstairs they had discarded (months worth) newspapers, bits and pieces of someone's life left behind and pallets of ..... drywall.
Looks I infiltrated a house that was in the midst of renovations. Cool! I got to dig around things, tools, find bits of papers with interesting things from the 30's and such. I must have spent a good two hours combing through the house, because I had noticed the sudden lack of lighting to read by.
By this point, as well, I wasn't so freaked over the sliding glass door and pane window. I figured if I was seen, the side door was now unlocked-I can say I knocked and the door swung open? That wouldn't explain why I was sitting on a bucket, chomping on a candy bar and reading the funnies from the 30's I'd found-but hey!
I remembered to re-lock the door as I left, looking and hopefully acting like I belonged there, and left the back door that I finagled a way into the place through to begin with unlocked as I found it.
Come to find out-a cousin of my father's bought the place and moved in six months after my little excursion into the house.
That's what I get for living in a small town.
Amazingly enough-nobody knew about it!
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