The place was a gingerbread house lost in the trees. It couldn’t last forever.
I suppose, looking back, that was what drew me to it. Not an ancient myth, but a modern ruin on borrowed time.
It was reckless for me to go in alone. Here, I was out of reach from anybody. Even my phone was useless to me. It had seemed perfect at the time – some peace and quiet at last. But ruins are never without their risks.
The abandoned factory had little time left, though. I’d heard there was only weeks before it was to knocked down. It was worth the risks. I’d had to capture it, to make sure it could never been forgotten. No doubt it would pay well, but I wasn’t there for the money.
The windows were dusty and cracked. I couldn’t see any sun when I’d looked through them. Only large black clouds.
Even though I was inside, I could feel the heaviness of the air. There was going to be a storm, and a big one, too. Things were likely to get dangerous.
Why did I stay?
It was already windy. I could hear it ripping through the gaps in the walls, a low and distant whistle. I didn’t feel cold though, somehow.
Maybe it was too humid.
The hall below me was full of wheels and tanks, a mass of conveyer belts and gigantic furnaces.
It was an incredible sight.
I was so amazed by all of the rusty machinery that I failed to notice the rust beneath my feet.
I only had myself to blame for what happened next…
written by Jenny Steiert, November 2013