While doing some research for this blog, I periodically sent random tidbits from what I was reading to a friend. Unlike me, haunted spaces, the paranormal, and everything in between never really interested him; in fact, he regularly goes out of his way to avoid it. But after a couple days of me telling him about what I was reading, he made the comment that I should own a haunted house. I’m sure he just made it as an off handed remark but I was strangely honored by the sentiment.

I’m starting this blog for so many reasons; one of the biggest though is I just really love folklore and haunted places and want to share those stories with others. But at the same time, writing and reading about all these things also reminds me of so many fond childhood memories.

When I was growing up, my family and I would periodically go on road trips around Washington state when my sister and I had breaks off from school. We would go camping or just to a different city a few hours away and experience a different part of the state. Because of this, we spent plenty of time driving long stretches in which there would often be nothing but farmland or national forests. But sometimes, there would be old, abandoned houses and barns. Each time we came across one, we’d stop the car on the side of the road and check it out.

These old houses and structures would often be falling apart and nature would be reclaiming the space. Grass would grow in the cracks of the floors, ivy would climb up the graffiti littered walls. Being in these spaces always felt hauntingly beautiful and surprisingly isolating. It’s a reminder that no matter how well we might work against it, our time on this blue dot hurdling through space is, in fact, finite. At some point, we leave and nature is left to pick up the pieces.

Change is inevitable. Progress is going to happen and life goes on. If things didn’t, the plague might still be a significant problem and any sort of cross country travel would probably involve at least some dysentery. But change for the sake of change isn’t necessarily a good thing. Moving forward and losing the character, the individuality, and the little things that make us human drains the life out of places and community.

Remembering history while simultaneously moving forward is a delicate balance between what once was and what still could be. That’s why I love old, abandoned houses and towns and why I love folklore. It’s a reminder of where we’ve been and all the potential humanity still has. And I look forward to sharing all that I learn with the world. Stay tuned!


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