The Forgotten Place

Eryn Vincent
Professor Holzmeister
ENG 1100
19 September 2008
The Forgotten Place
Everyday when I walk outside of my apartment to begin my daily activities, I see this old abandon fraternity house. I often wonder to myself how that building that I’m sure used to be full of life and energy, got to be in the shape it is now. All of the buildings in this area are very attractive with freshly cut lawns and painted facades, but this one is almost falling apart. With the rough cold concrete rubbing my bare legs and the hard brick wall as my back rest, I now sit here beside my front door, just staring at this place.
The old house is pretty large in size, like most of the newer fraternity homes up and down the same street, but now the bricks are decaying making it very unappealing. The lower part of the home is one-story, where I believe the old occupants had their congregation area, and a small set of stairs leads to the further part of the house which is two-stories tall. The windows are no longer in tact allowing any creatures to explore the remains of this broken down place. Through those holes in the walls where the windows used to be, I can see antique furniture still remaining from the previous residents. This furniture looks like it was very stylish back in its day, but now all the chairs and sofas are ripped apart with their stuffing protruding out of the material. The shrubs and bushes on the outside have begun to take over the forgotten lot. They now grow freely all over the entire house. Vines and weeds are creeping their way up the sides of the remaining walls and even the roof. Besides the weeds hanging over the edge of the covering of the home, there are also black stains lining the white trim that circles the top of the structure. I’m not exactly sure if it’s mold or the scars from a previous fire, but whatever it is, it has been there for a long while. There is graffiti of all different colors that has been painted on many of the doors and sides of the building by younger people expressing their thoughts. I can see the white walls on the inside have also been covered with the paint, and some of the doors have been taken down from their hinges.
There is a parking lot right behind this depleting structure, and I’m seeing many cars come and go throughout the time I’m sitting here observing. No matter how many people come to the parking lot, even if they park their car, no one ever enters that building. They just keep walking by without even glancing its way. Most of the people coming are fraternity boys parking their cars just to walk across the street to join their friends at the newer frat house that is actually occupied by numerous people. I can smell the smoke from their cigarettes as they pass by, and I watch as they flick the butts of them towards the old home when they are finished without a care. There are beer cans and fast food wrappers beginning to pile up in the parking lot and the untamed grass growing around the lot. I watch as one childish drunken boy throws his solo cup across the beaten up cement at one of his friends, and then turns around to walk toward to excitement on the opposite side of the road and doesn’t think twice about picking it up. These people do not seem worried about trashing the space, because it is already so junky. I hear laughter and music, but it all come from across the street. The run-down house is completely empty and silent. The silence of this old place is very strange, because there is commotion going on all around it and yet it remains standing alone. I wonder what will happen to this place in the future. Will it remain for people to abuse and use as they please, or will it one day be entirely destroyed, just to be replaced with another more elaborate structure?