Moving on from Storthes Wood Lodge I knew of another quite bad condition derp nearby I visited last year named The Graffiti House with 
As 
On arriving I could see little had changed in 'The Graffiti House', and before I knew it my comrade had disappeared into its depths and I supposed was snapping away.
On following, I couldn't find him and my yells were yielding no response.
Where the fuck had he gone now?
Ah.. but things had changed, and at once I could see The Graffiti House was now simply a conduit for what lay beyond.
Jumping through the window with the agility of a pregnant sloth I made my way down to another house that looked remarkably similar.
It was there I caught up with
It doesn’t look quite so creepy anymore, I was thinking. That’s what bright sunlight does.
I do know of another explorer, in fact, a Goontuber who ran in terror from 'Creepier House' not so long ago. What was so dreadful inside that could instill fear in a veteran solo explorer?
Once again brambles and overgrown nettles were the major obstacles to getting close. If portable machetes were not illegal here I would carry one for this task.
After straddling through the empty window I found myself in yet another graffiti-filled old house.
At least this one was not falling apart so badly as the others.
My eyes immediately went to the mantlepiece above the old fireplace. What was that?
…“Don’t touch the shoe”…
I gingerly reached out a shaking finger to touch the shoe but was propelled back with such force that slammed me into the rear wall breaking a fingernail.
Dazed and confused I pulled myself up now very wary of this ancient relic that was suddenly pulsating brightly and emanating an aura of pure terror within me.
I could go close…, but not touch?
That battered shoe was made of real leather and was that genuine Adidas? I slowly backed off fearful I was looking at the very shoe that Ben Johnson wore in the 1988 Olympics when he was disqualified for doping.
It was cursed!
Fuck the shoe I thought there’s other bullshit to look at here and a cursed shoe was not going to scare me. There was a cocaine camp here, or so I was led to believe.
Leaving the ‘shoe room' behind I spotted the kitchen which had all its units intact.
Had someone left a pile of chocolates behind in the far corner?
A closer look revealed a stash of conkers or Horse Chestnuts to non-UK people.
Does anyone bother with conkers anymore?
Kids these days don’t do conker fights.
Unlike the other house, there was a little correspondence hanging around.
A past inhabitant appeared to be a tools trader. I saw more than one of these invoices scattered around.
The same person had also completed certificates while living here. Everything was dated around 1996. Surely it had not been empty for that long?
The style of graffiti was astonishingly similar to that of Storthes Wood Lodge. Not too surprising as the old Lodge is less than a mile away.
The number of times I have been told ‘I am going to die’ if I go here or there is getting old.
Chairs and cups. Was there someone living here, or are they old ones?
The style of colouring and décor could be suitable for young kids and no one else.
Beds but no bedding; The upstairs areas were dry yet I had the feeling no homeless were living here.
If I was easily offending by all the writings I would have stopped exploring years ago.
A sign of the times; Tony Blair had been elected our Prime Minister just a year before. Of course, his wife had to go topless to cause him some embarrassment.
There was little inside 'Creepier House' beside the dreaded shoe and a ton of graffiti.
I peered at the sign on the outside of the house while exiting. It was the usual dangerous building sign warning me not to enter.
No warning about that shoe. Had it all been a bad dream?
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