This house in particular has always stayed inside my mind. Sat alone between the quiet trees of Blackwood forest it remained isolated and lonely. Every window was boarded with not a glimmer of light inside. Though not much was left behind from the former souls who lived here, one room was not empty. Using our torches we saw hundreds of black butterflies on the walls. Sitting in silence. Spiders were watching us nearby as we stroked the black shells that were graffitiing the house. We grabbed a handful of the butterflies & we sat them gently between the light that was echoing from the trees outside.
Suddenly every single butterfly started to move slowly & attempt to fly away whilst covered in cobwebs. It was so strange to see these black husks clinging to the old walls.
The house itself was just a husk of what it used to be. It was sat between the forest. Lonely, with sadness surrounding it. Asking a farmer who was tending to his sheep nearby. It appeared that the house was just always there. Old. Like a local who walks into the pub every night.
Though i do believe ghosts or some old magic remains inside these houses.. even the smallest touch of life still clings to what it once was.