The house was white, paint chipping away, of course, with a wrap-around front porch with moss lining the edges. It can be seen from the road distantly... but to get to it is a little complicated... needed to park on a side road about a mile away.... only way to get to it was by hiking 1/2 a mile to a creek where there is a broken "once was" bridge that is broken in half that you have to jump across to cross the creek, and once you cross the creek, around the corner moving right, or west in this case, up the hill.... is where it sat surrounded by trees. It was beautiful approaching the home.... I have nostalgia about the smell of the air and the walk through the grass up the hill to get to it. I also remember my first step on the moss. I can't explain it rationally, but almost immediately upon my foot touching the moss on the porch, anxiety flooded through me, like a sudden panic... you know, as if you've fallen off your bike or bed, or tripped on a rug that was curled slightly from someone else tripping over it before you were there... I brushed it off and considered it to be the adrenaline I seek by exploring these houses and continued through the front door. I entered the kitchen first. There was a mirror on the far wall with a small sink under it. There was a very old razor with a bottle of shaving cream next to it. They were both rusty. I kept walking. I entered the living room. The walls were salmon. The sun shining through the windows and bouncing off of the salmon colored walls and floor and ceiling made horrible lighting in my photographs. I tried for a couple self portraits and wasn't satisfied and couldn't focus. I was anxious. I kept exploring. I found the staircase to go upstairs. More anxiety. My chest hurt at this point. But I continued up the stairs slowly and with shaky legs. My friend behind me was whispering that she didn't want to go upstairs. I can barely hear her. I feel like I'm underwater. She's still afraid. I'm still anxious. The walk up the stairs feels like it's taking me an hour to complete. Everything is in slow motion. She is gripping on my sweater and I'm still shaking. I make it to the top step. I'm facing a window immediately. Everything outside looks black and white but I know in my mind it's green. I keep telling myself "that's green" as I stared at the grass out the warped window and it wasn't changing color. I feel like I am walking through mud as I turn around to face the upstairs room. My friend is walking back downstairs. I'm hearing her in slow motion screaming "**** this, something is ******* weird here i'm going outside". As she is leaving I'm seeing what I'm seeing.... the far wall of the room is covered in black mold... beyond reason it is covered from corner to corner seeping to the connecting walls like they were hundreds of outstretched dark arms waiting to pull me into an abyss. Everything is still black and white. I feel the warmth of someone breathing heavily on my ear. Distinctly, I hear a growl. I feel the vibrations of an angry, sinister, evil growl, and I can't explain it. I can't explain a **** thing. But it was there. It was felt. It was real. And it was ******* crazy. I ran down the stairs and fell on my way down and scraped my knee up pretty bad. After that, all I remember is that the very moment I put my foot on the grass, and was off the mossy front porch, I was seeing color again.