The air was still fresh from the morning’s showers. We stored our bikes behind a wall of non-conspicuous trees, hopped a spider filled iron/brick fence and crossed our fingers that this wasn’t how our obituaries would start. But, there was something about the decrepit exterior, overgrown weeds, rotting wood, and ‘NO TRESPASSING’ sign that allured our curious hearts. We walked around the abandoned house, stepping over broken glass and wooden floors that sunk when you walked on them. It was hauntingly beautiful.