Written by: Storytrail
On a cloudy afternoon, Bumblebee and I made our way up a neverending overgrown driveway. While a common location to many explorers, nobody we spoke to knew kind any backstory or history on the place. As we eagerly stepped inside the abandoned house, we immediately knew that it was something special. After we set up our cameras, we toured the hallways and rooms, sifting through the remaining belongings. Eventually puzzle pieces began to connect, and a story began to unfold.
January 28th, 1963
How are you, I hope you are feeling better than I am. I have a cold and the measles so I’m in for a real fix. I guess there’s a lot of people got them. Simon has them and Valerie and I hear most the kids in #3-4 have got them. Well how’s life treating you. What have you been doing for excitement. It seems as though winters never going to end. And it’s been so cold the past week or so that you’d freeze up if you went out.
Born in the early 1900’s, Amelia Lockwood’s life before meeting her husband remains to be a mystery. She was likely born in Canada, but no information about her family is known. When she grew old enough to marry, she moved into her husband’s stone farmhouse. It was quaint, but very spacious for the time period as it contained two floors and a total of 5 bedrooms. Amelia likely spent her days performing wifely duties as her husband and his two brothers worked on the farm. As years passed, household dynamics changed, and Amelia gave birth to two daughters; Marilyn and Alice.
Amelia Lockwood’s life is best described as one of commemoration. Throughout her life she carefully collected, saved, and archived. Remnants of her children’s lives are scattered throughout her home. Countless boxes of cards – birthdays, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and every other occasion were put away for safe keeping. School books and report cards are stacked together, various books and mementos tucked away. As her family slowly fell from her grasp, I picture Amelia in her home, studying the handwriting of her daughters each day in an air of melancholy silence before carefully setting them back in their respective places.
January 29th, 1963
How are you. I am not feeling too bad. Although I have a cold and the measles. It has been ages since I’ve heard from you, I guess you have been busy with your school work. By the way, how’s school going these days. I guess the school looks different now. Well what did you think of that cold spell we had. I thought for sure I’d freeze, I saw Judy and Barb and Cindy, Suzanne, and some other girls on Canadian Bandstand on Saturday.
Decades later, the place Amelia and her family once called home is now in a permanent state of decay. Black mold has begun to creep up the walls and ceiling, threatening to engulf any remaining paint or wallpaper. Stale water sits in pots and vases on the floor, a welcome breeding ground for insects. The paperwork and cards once carefully stacked into boxes has now been scattered every which way as each new unexpected guest rifles through it. Moisture has made its way indoors, and is speeding up the rate at which things decay.
On our second visit, I quickly set-up my camera and tripod in the kitchen. As I walked ahead of Bumblebee through to the next room, something black flew past in my peripheral vision. My scream was muffled by my respirator and followed by my yell, “Was that a bat?!” Recovering from the scare, I made my way back to a familiar room full of boxes. Each box contained a multitude of papers and a new clue to the history of this property. What was most striking was the amount of greeting cards scattered about, along with what seemed like hundreds of school notebooks. As I sifted through the decaying remains of Amelia’s life, a shrill ring suddenly filled the air. I jumped, and dropped the papers I was holding. The phone was still active, and despite a warning from another explorer, I reacted anyway. With shaking hands, I continued on. As Bumblebee and I documented the crumbling home through our cameras, I tried to imagine Amelia in my mind all those years ago.
January 30th, 1963
I thought it was about time I wrote you. How are you keeping. I must admit I am not feeling my best, right now I have a cold plus the measles. It seems ever since Christmas my luck has been bad. Everywhere I went I met up with something. I guess there is a lot of kids got the measles. I hope to be able to go outside by next week, I should be well over them by then. Well what have you been doing for excitement these last few weeks? By the way, did Will ever come back to see you? Are you coming with anyone Lucy. It doesn’t matter right now if I am going with anyone because I have only been outside three times all this month. And that was to go to town. Hasn’t this been awful weather we have been having, especially last week. Have you or Sherry seen Marilyn lately? It’s been ages since I’ve seen her or heard from her. Well I finally bought some more records. I got an album by Webb Pierce and I got a few 45’s. By the way is it right that Getty Jordan is going to get hitched in February. I heard that but I didn’t know if it was true. I guess you are still working; did the little Baker boy get over his cold? You were saying about him being in the hospital last time I was…
Are you going with anyone Lucy, has Will been up to see you I’m sure you love seeing him. Wasn’t that terrible about that guy getting his head cut off in that accident just below [omitted] I guess the other guy will still be in the hospital. How’s everyone at home?
In 1959, Amelia received the heartbreaking news that her husband had died. As she processed the news, she sifted through his belongings, ever so carefully storing them away from the collection of paperwork related to her daughters. The memories of her 51 year old husband stuck in her mind, and she tried her best to shut them out by focusing on what was left of her family.
Eventually, life and loneliness began to take its toll on Amelia. She was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, and wasn’t able to manage it well. The consequence was the loss of one of her legs. Between hospital visits, she took solace in her categorized belongings, longing for a life that had since disappeared. Her prosthetic leg remains in the house, a reminder of the hardship she once faced.
Disclaimer: We follow the urban exploration motto and take nothing but photographs on all of our explores. We do not believe in breaking and entering, vandalism, or theft, nor do we condone it.