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The whole pack decided to hang out at the old house by the post office. By hang out, I mean, trespass onto abandoned property and pillage through whatever is there.
There were six or seven of us, and we went during school. Why wouldn’t we? We were seniors, and a couple of the others were already guaranteed a seat as the elite “Super Senior” status for next year. They had nothing to lose, and I wanted to do something different and adventurous.
I remember we had to climb in through a window in the basement, then walk up shoddy steps into the living room. The place reeked of shit, most likely (from what we knew at that point) of animals that snuck in the same way we did and called the home their shelter.
As we went through the house, we found a couple of boxes, some cases filled with old papers. Debbie found what looked to be a deed to the old place, and Pete found old money from the end of the 1800s.
Jenn heard something from upstairs and for the next half hour held my hand like it was the last thing she’d ever hold on to. We walked up the stairs, looking for the something that caused the sounds we heard.
Pete found a bedroom, in horrible shape, and almost fell through the floor. Jenn heard the sound again, almost ripping my arm off the socket and bolting through the house like a mad woman. I held her, brought her closer to the sounds she heard, and we found to our surprise a couple of newborn kittens.
Downstairs, we heard Debbie call for us. We went to find what she found, which was apparently a somewhat new sleeping bag. We decided to call it a day and left the house.
Pete and a couple of others decided to go back a couple of days later.
He broke his ankle.
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