The evening was perfect. The sun was setting behind the sea, the camera of my new phone displayed excellent qualities. Excellent for the time being, at least. We thought the time was proper now to go to our main target of the roadtrip.
The place was in a working class neighbourhood. Or, well, everything in this town was, but this one was built next to a large factory well outside the city center. The factory had gone through hard times, services had shut down and people moved away. We left our car by the local marketplace. Next to it was a hole in the ground, where the local supermarket had stood. And the only person we saw during our walk towards our target was an elderly, fragile lady waiting for a bus.
This was what we were here for. The local school built in the early 20th century and enlarged in the thirties. It was no small place, as the next picture reveals.
The annex made of bricks had been added later. All windows were broken, and now we only needed to find an open door.
There was even a more modern auxiliary building to the right of us. The wooden building at the back was the teachers’ apartments, a common sight on the yards of old school buildings.
Finding the open door really was not a difficult task. All we had to do was to set our foot in.
Oh, very well, just a minor obstacle. Someone had nailed a door there to prevent new entries.
When we started climbing over the door every one of us three had second thoughts. This was the fifteenth building I was about to enter, and its aura was totally different than all the others had been. This one was somewhat menacing. But I was too tempted to get in.
The place was a mess. Everything that had been stored here had been thrown around the place.
There were several boxes with books. Some of them were clearly learning material, others didn’t really look like primary school pupils were there targeted audience.
The classrooms were big, the corridors were narrow and cramped. Everywhere moisture had ripped the plastic carpet off.
The side corridor of the old wooden part of the school was where we headed after the first few classrooms.
”Everything that is black has been cursed.”
”Watch out for the murdered man.”
”It’s your fellow.”
To be continued.