Descriptive Essay About Abandoned House

It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.

When they walked through the doors of the haunted house in the graveyard, it had an instantly spooky aroma. The door itself was wooden and starting to rot away and fall from its hinges, although that kind of describes the whole house, falling apart. To the right there was a small staircase with ten or eleven steps leading upstairs and a doorway below them leading downstairs. There was old furniture scattered across the old house but it was all ripped up or broken. To the left of the room was a locked door that was still in perfect condition and was reinforced very well. Despite the attempts of two of the four members of their group of four teenagers, the door remained locked and closed. Going straight through the arch in front of them led to the dining room which is where the bad things began.

The Abandoned house stood there, with fog rising to the sky. Lights flickered being the only light in the dark….. The fog dragged a cold breeze, that sent a chill up my spine, this house has been here forever and nothing like this has ever happened before, I gulped and strolled into the cold night fog. As I approached the house, the door slowly opens and a Shadow steps towards me. The weather just dropped like 40 degrees, I don't like this at all.

The scenery is still very warming like a puppy that is held close to your chest. The old water tower remains standing protruding through the earth. Dust floats in the air, creating clouds, when we drive down the jerky road. I look around, nothing has changed from last time I was here, the grain bins still reflect the sun. Each corn stalk stood tall and firm making it difficult for me to see what mom and I always drive for. The pressure on the gas pedal increased giving the car a jolt of energy like a kid who has just three bags of candy. Then it came into view, with the tree swing still hanging in the backyard waiting for someone. I pulled into the carmel driveway shifting the car into park allowing it to rest and closed the door with a “clunk”. As I turned around the house stood silently still, I took a deep filling my lungs with the most amazing feeling.

If there was one thing that has grasped my attention as much as it caused me nightmares, it was haunted houses. Not the type of haunted houses that pop up around Halloween and frighten you with organized jump scares. I mean real haunted houses with a backstory. The kind where someone ended up being murdered on the property and the person’s spirit lingers years later. That’s what I am on the search for. My interest started after I had accidently watched My Paranormal Encounter while channel surfing at the age of 10. Ever since that day I’ve been doing research on paranormal activity: attempting to discover a way to conquer my fear. It’s been a decade since I first began and myself, along with a few friends, have been preparing for almost a year to further my research by visiting a real haunted house. Convincing myself that I was ready for this was more difficult than convincing the others involved. Even now as I sit in the back of some beat up van I feel like we should go back. I shifted my attention from the view of cornfields outside the window to the front where Tony and Cheryl sat jamming out to some song by Guns n’ Roses with the windows down. They started waving their hands around like fools, attempting to keep everyone lively since we had been on the empty road for several hours without stopping much. Behind me, Kurt opened the mini cooler, which sat upon miscellaneous crumbs that had always coated the colorless carpet, and snickered.

It was a spooky night with the coyotes howl and the owl hooting with the flash of lighting in the sky we were lost. My friend Zack and I took a hike to see what was beyond the woods where we lived and we lost are way. You see we just moved in so we were curious to see what was there. We found a old abandoned house or was it abandoned but we needed sleep so we went near. First we thought this house looks like something out of a horror movie with old broken windows and the dark misty trees. We went up to the doors and the door slowly opened and we went in with the cold breezes coming though we both had chills. We had never been this scared before we heard bats and squeaking of the the stairs. Squeak,squeak,squeak and we paused as we say something moving in the shadows.

It was a small suburban town called plumpton with your average church, corner store, schools, and etc. . There is one thing that is out of the ordinary was just up the street from the town was a old run down house with a old rigidity playground with a swing that made a little creek sound every time the cold wind blew on it. It also had a slide and a sandbox but there have rumors about seeing foot prints in the sandbox a small foot from a child no older then eight years old. There also have been rumors about a little girl walking around looking no more then seven years old but she is barley seen so some people think that the little girl is waiting for her family to return.

Set on a ridge overlooking the beautiful Olympic mountains -you will truly love this unique home. A blend of Japanese and northwestern architecture gives the house a perfect feel for a relaxing yoga retreat or any vacation. With its traditional Tatami room and spectacular Japanese blue tile roof this spacious home will give you the sublime rest and rejuvenation that you deserve!

When i was 7 years old in 2008, there was one night that scared me the most. The night as dark, like if it was haunted house. The fog has rolled in earlier than expected, and acted like i was in a horror movie. The chilling wind smelled winter and it sent a shiver down my spine, the wind moved the leaves and you could hear each leave brush up together. People of all ages dressed up as their favorite realistic and nonrealistic characters, some people traveled in groups and some alone. Kids went to other people's houses and knocked on their door playfully, when they answered the door the kids screamed “Trick or treat”. Houses were decorated in a spooky tone, graves laid on the house's front lawn. Skeletons hanged from the trees and from the walls of homes.

As the days get shorter, the trees burst into a riot of different hues. Red. Orange. Yellow. Jack O’ Lanterns light up neighborhood porches. Little goblins and princesses roam the streets, while candy wrappers softly blow in the wind. Scary stories are read by the dim glow of the campfire and the shadows of the tree branches loom over like hands, threatening to reach out and grab whoever is near the forest's edge.

Arkansas, Only about a hour, maybe two hours long drive away from home. Over the course of the day we meet new and different people, eat good food, and give gifts. Everyone is overly affectionate and helps out in the kitchen. Squeezing around twenty people in the tiny house is a tight smoosh, even if our family is almost half of that group. The house itself may not be that tiny but we’re all gathered in just the kitchen and living room, making it seem like a smaller space. At times, a few people stroll out the glass door, onto the patio and into the back yard, yet even then it feels just a tad crowded, especially since we were around people we’d never met. From long road trips to the ice cream punch to eating way too many rice krispie treats in one sitting, every part of that day went smoothly, giving off a joyful, pleasant vibe. Joyful is a great feeling to have around Christmas time. The best part? It was all captured in one sweet picture.

The day was definitely not perfect. The trees stood up tall, but with no leaves. The day was cold, with clouds and no sun. And of course, there was a van, parked in my driveway, waiting for me to hop in and take me to a new home.

On a dry hot day in the middle of August, I was awaken to mother’s happy voice saying, “We ‘re here guys!” My excited family and I had just arrived at our two-story brick house at a beautiful resort called “Ding Ding Castle” in Orlando, Florida. My mom, Aunt Wanda, Uncle TJ, cousin Cameron, friend Ronald, Grandmother Doris, Granddad Carlton, sister Kenzie, cousin Kaylan, and I were all planning on staying one long week together. When I got out of the car, I immediately smelled the fresh air and smoke from someone having a barbeque nearby and could taste the fresh grass that had just been finely cut. The bright yellow sun was beaming down on us, making me sweat instantly. I looked around and saw the rows of houses next to each other and noticed that each one had its own personal swimming pool in the back. There were tall palm trees in each yard and every house had new and shiny cars in the driveway. Our house was two stories high and was made of bright red bricks that made it stand out from all of the other houses. The house was surrounded with light green grass and had a porch with dark blue chairs sitting in a row. It was definitely one of the biggest and prettiest houses I had ever seen

I turned around, looking back at my old room. The paint on the wall is peeling off, the ceiling was falling apart, and the floor was cracking open. This was the house I have been living for thirteen years, and now I need to leave. Mom and dad bought this house from an old man, then thirteen years past, this is 2004. yes, it is already 2004, how fast is it! I stood there, staring at the empty room with only a little furniture. I can’t feel home, where is my home? I don’t know this weird feeling. Happy and sad at the same time. However, if I left, is it going to be an enjoyable life, or it is going to be another way that leads me to my doom? I kept repeating in my mind.

All five of us kids stand impatiently, surrounding the dirty, white side door attached to the garage of Grandma and Grandpa Pinegar’s home in Orem, Utah. An automatic lock is screwed to the door. We all take turns punching in the code into the lock. The buttons have an orange glow to them, but is only visible in the dark. Little black numbers were once printed on the circular buttons, but have now peeled away as a result of the constant rubbing and pressing on them. The door has always been a pain to get open. The lock constantly jams itself, which requires the code to be entered multiple times. As we sit and wait for Mom to open the door, I admire the familiar place. Grandma and Grandpa’s three story house is layered in red, rough bricks. Five white columns hold up a lengthy carpeted deck, as well as the extended roof. Windows can be seen in all stories of the house, giving the house a wide open feel. The neatly cut grass, planted in the front lawn, is parted by a sidewalk that leads up to a couple of stairs and then to a dark brown door. A flagpole is surrounded by a flower bed in the front lawn. Our handprints mark the cement where the flagpole stands. Finally, Mom gets the door unlocked, it groans - sounding like an old blowhorn - as rusty gears turn inside to unfasten. Sara, my younger sister, takes hold of the scratched up metal doorknob, twists it to the side, pushes the door open, and runs in. Leading the rest of us with her.