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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/abiroadwrites on 2024-10-02 21:20:42+00:00.

When I was younger, I was a big fan of urban exploration. My best friend at the time was too, and she knew all the best spots, and all the rules for safe exploring. Some of the rules were pretty obvious: wear tennis shoes and tall socks, wear something you can move quickly and freely in, take a flashlight and a bottle of water. Some of the rules were more subtle, learned through years of trial and error. This story is about one of those rules, and how I insisted on learning it the hard way.

Nikki, my friend, was and still is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, which means she was also the best person for me to get into urban exploring with. Not only did she know all the best places, but I trusted her so completely I would do what she said without argument (most of the time). After our adventures exploring an abandoned Macy’s, an old barn, and several spur of the moment road trips Nikki told me there was somewhere special she wanted to go. She wouldn’t tell me anything about it until we got there, which was unusual but only made me more excited to see whatever it was.

I remember the first time I visited that place with her, it was late summer, when the leaves haven’t started to turn yet, but you can feel the first cold spark in the air that promises the seasons are right about to change. One of the things I liked about exploring with Nikki was that she always drove us, so I got to sit in the passenger seat and watch the scenery pass us by. That day we drove out into the hills on the outskirts of town, passing neighborhoods, then houses, then fields with the occasional house, then nothing but trees, fields, and hills. I memorized the route we took, some part of me knowing already that I would want to return to this place. I wish I wasn’t so good at memorizing directions.

We had stopped for coffee before making our way out of town, and we laughed and sang along loudly to the music on the radio as she drove. After a long time Nikki pulled the car off to the side of the road, parked in an area that had no discernable markers as far as I could tell, and said with a grin “We’re here.” I stepped out of the car and breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of tall grass, old growth trees, and rotting wood. I looked around at the tall pines and lovely aspens, then smiled at Nikki. I said, “Alright, I’m not sure this one qualifies as urban exploration, but it’s a nice spot.” Nikki smirked and tossed her long, curly brown hair over her shoulder, “I guess it’s not urban, no. But you’re really going to like this.”

I followed her as we walked through the woods, there was no path and I wasn’t entirely sure there ever had been. It looked and felt like no one had ever been out here except for us. I had a brief moment of fear remembering all those stories about people snapping and sacrificing their friends or classmates to slenderman, then shook it off. After a few minutes of hiking over dead trees, through tall grass, and past strange detritus (I’m pretty sure I saw an old wagon completely overgrown with weeds at one point) I saw a structure not too far from us, partly obscured by the trees.

Nikki pointed to the structure and said, “There it is.” Just past a small river, hidden in the line of trees, was a miniature version of an old Victorian house. At one point in time it had been painted pink and blue, the trim around the windows had probably been white, and my inner child fell in love with it instantly.

In a hushed, almost reverent tone I asked, “What is it?”

Nikki gave me her most pleased smile, the expression she reserved for our best discoveries, and whispered back, “It’s an old playhouse. I’m guessing some rich guy had it built for his daughters, ages and ages ago. It’s beautiful, in kind of an unsettling way, right?”

I nodded, it was beautiful in an unsettling way. There was something about it that made me feel like I would hear children’s voices, or see a little girl dart out from behind it at any moment. The playhouse was at least two stories from what I could tell, and made of wood and stone rather than plastic. The paint was chipping off, the roof was caving in, and most of the glass windows were broken. I was entranced, and began walking towards it, sure Nikki would know the best way to cross the river to get to it, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

All she said was, “No.”

I laughed, “What do you mean? We came all the way out here and you don’t want to go look at it?”

She shook her head, an abnormally serious expression on her usually cheerful face. “We can stay on this side of the river and look at it, but we’re not going over there.”

I chuckled again, but I was starting to get frustrated. “We can wade through the river if there’s no bridge or anything. I promise I’ll stand right next to your car until I’m dry if you don’t have any towels.” Nikki had learned the hard way to always keep a towel in the trunk of her car.

She let go of my arm, but took a step back. “Mara, look around. Do you see beer bottles anywhere? Cigarettes? Soda cans? Candy wrappers?”

I looked around at the ground, noting in surprise that I didn’t see anything of the kind. “No, I guess whoever owns this land maintains it really well.”

Nikki said, “Nobody maintains it, it’s just that no one wants to be out here for very long. If teenagers won’t party here then we shouldn’t explore either. There’s a reason no one wants to get close to that thing. We can admire from a distance, but we don’t need to cross the river. Just trust me okay?”

I couldn’t. I had always trusted her implicitly, and it had always been a good call, but this time I just couldn’t understand why she was refusing to let me look closer at this amazing little discovery. We stood there in the field arguing about it for a few more minutes, until Nikki finally threatened to abandon me there if I took one more step closer to the old playhouse. Of course I had to take another step towards it, and she immediately turned around and started back towards the car, ready to make good on her promise.

I laughed and chased after her saying, “I was kidding! I’m kidding!”

She kept walking, not stopping until we made it back to the car, but I could tell she wasn’t really angry with me. We brushed ourselves off, checked each other for tics (another rule she learned the hard way) then got back in the car and went to the mall.

When Nikki dropped me off at my house later that day she looked me in the eyes and said, “I was serious Mara. If there’s no sign of humans around a clearly man made structure, that’s a good sign you need to be careful.”

I smiled, but I couldn’t meet her eyes as I said, “Yeah of course. I got you.”

I could tell she didn’t feel good about it, but she went home anyway.

I spent the next few weeks thinking about the playhouse non stop. I had taken a few pictures of it, and I spent all my time looking at them, zooming in and out and studying the structure as if I was going to take a test on it. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and on one warm fall Saturday I got in my car and traced our route back to the old playhouse.

It was a lot harder to find alone, and I had to drive back and forth on the road for a while before I found the spot where I thought we had parked the last time. It was midafternoon, and the first thing I noticed when I got out of my car was the total lack of sound. There were no birds singing, no small animals rustling in the underbrush, nothing. I couldn’t remember if I had heard animals or not when I came here with Nikki, but I pushed on despite my unease. I walked through the brush and tall grass for a while before I finally saw the playhouse in the distance.

I had imagined that scene in my head in the days leading up to it, and I had expected to feel elation. Instead I felt a vague unease as storm clouds gathered in the distance. I told myself it was just my brain fooling me, because of the storm clouds, and pushed on. When I got to the river I walked up and down the banks a bit, looking for a log or some boards to cross on. There was nothing, which only made me think of Nikki’s warning about avoiding places other people didn’t want to be. I scoffed, maybe that was the best place to be, for once Nikki didn’t know what she was talking about.

After a few minutes I was able to locate a fallen log and slide my way across it carefully. I almost tripped at one point and felt my heart rate increase dreadfully despite how shallow the water below was. I told myself it was just because I didn’t want to get in my car wet, or bother with washing the car towel Nikki had insisted I get, but something in my head screamed for me to turn back.

When I stood in front of the play house, it all felt worth it. Despite the peeling paint, chipping wood, and cracked glass there was an odd and distinct beauty to the old place. It reminded me of a dollhouse I’d had as a kid. * I stood there in the woods for a long time, just admiring it before I got up the courage to go closer. I snapped a picture and sent it to Nikki, but there was no cell service. When I finally entered the structure the first thing I noticed was the simple wooden floor, and how clean it was aside from some dirt and grass and a few small piles of leaves. That may not sound very clean, but if you’ve been in a lot of abandoned structures you’ll know what I mean, that’s not just unusual it’s bizarre. I glanced up and saw that there was a small hatch in the ce…

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