A short story on how I became an urban explorer

For every story there is a beginning. And the beginning to my urban exploration story happened almost 15 years ago in a small village somewhere in Finland. It was almost Christmas, but there was no snow. It was cold, rainy and pitch black, when I traveled with my family to the village we used to pass by quite often, when I was a child. I hadn’t been there in years, I couldn’t remember anything about it. So I was excited.

When we turned to the village from the main road, I started having a bad feeling. You know the kind of chill in your lower spine or a tickle up your upper ass, however you want to put it. The further we drove in the darkness, the worse the feeling became. Soon it was all over my body. And then, suddenly, I saw this.

I was frozen in fear. I managed to ask my family what the place was, and was told, it was an old abattoir, which had stood there since forever. 

I spent a sleepless night trying to recall old childhood memories, and finally found one. I was about four, was on my way home from the village shop, and thunder was rising. I looked up to the tower rising towards the black sky, saw something and never walked past the building with my eyes open again.

The abattoir now had my curiosity. I decided, that I simply had to get in there somehow.


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