Vacant New Jersey

Photostream » December 2017 » Iron Horse Park

Bad Books

Looking out from the comfort and safety of the woods, I can clearly see the outline of the otherwise unassuming, yet massive, warehouse structure appear from behind the last row of trees and shrubs obscuring me from obvious view. An active rail yard remains between me and the decaying warehouse, the distance spliced in half by a pair of shiny railroad tracks, the rails glistening like polished silver under the late afternoon Sunday sun. But all was quiet this weekend as the rail yard seemed to be closed, still I made it a point to close the distance between myself, the woods, and the shuttered building with a swift jog. The warehouse was lined with smashed out windows, and doors long since blasted open, so gaining entrance would be simple. Thus with one last look to the left and to the right, I shot out from the woods line on both feet, but merely temporarily as my left foot caught the first railroad track tripping me up as I slam face first into the ballast rock, tumbling and rolling over the outermost rail. "Great, a stealthy entrance perfectly executed", I chuckled to myself as I wiped the bloodied dirt and pebbles out from the fresh scratches and cuts all along my arms and legs. I hobbled quite obviously the rest of the distance to an open window and slumped my body through, entering into the abandoned warehouse wasteland, wondering what poisons could possibly enter my open wounds within here.