I was at my grandparents farm; huge, over 1,000 acres.
We went to where a house my great great grandparents had lived in was once located. Although the house was gone, there was still a garage.
I was pretty young, so I looked through a hole in the door, and saw a car stamped with “MER” on it.
I said “Dad, it’s a Mercedes!” to which he laughed and said “no, it’s probably a Mercury son.” People out there don’t drive German sports cars.
A week later my dad was on the phone with one of the renters on that land and told him that story.
Apparently, there wasn’t supposed to be a car there, but we had found the door locked or rusted shut.
The renter goes over with a sheriff, and find a teenager frozen to death in the driver’s seat. I’m really glad I couldn’t open the door.
The story we heard from the Sheriff, was that he had run away from home in the fall (this was late winter/early spring) and he had no where to go. It’s about as remote as you can get, and he probably found the garage and parked his car there to be hidden. He was apparently covered in blankets, frozen to death probably on the first night, but maybe he came and went a few times. I’m guessing it was unlocked, and then rusted shut? I remember yanking it hard a few times with my dad, but it didn’t budge, and what’s there to see anyway? It’s just an old rotting garage, so we gave up.
I don’t think it’s that he “couldn’t get out,” but I think he just didn’t make it. It’s northern Missouri, so on the wrong night, it can get very cold on the plains, and he couldn’t run his car for heat, he would have died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Come to think of it, that may have been it? I doubt there was an autopsy.
The family hadn’t known anything for months, so a very sad story, but at least (I?) found the body.
If I had never made that funny little observation, who knows, it could have been years until someone went to that garage.
In my sophomore year of college, my friends and I decided that we wanted to rent a house. My mom was handling all of my loans at the time (just the paperwork, not the actual paying of said loans) so she wouldn’t let me move in, but I hung out there a lot. We were checking out the house and looked behind this big furnace only to find a door that couldn’t be seen from the main walkway and the realtor obviously didn’t know about it as she didn’t show it to us. We went in and the lights didn’t work so we brought a flashlight. As we walk in the room we notice it smells really stuffy and it’s pretty apparent that nobody had been in there for a long time. Upon further investigation we find that there is a noose hanging from a 1000 lb weight bracing unit on the ceiling and there were all kinds of things written all over the walls (plus a bunch of old junk that had been thrown in there). We’re not sure what happened in the house and nobody knew about the room so we cut down the noose and never went in that room.
My current apartment was left with all sorts of freaky stuff. When I started renting the place, the previous tenant died after living there for 90 years. I was told by my landlord that upon cleaning out the basement, he came across three casks of Prohibition whiskey. Pretty cool stuff.
Once we moved in, my roommate and I continued to explore the place to find other relics of a past era. The main floor was fairly empty, however when we found our way into the attic, we encountered all sorts of bizarre stuff. The attic itself has no electricity. It is dark, cold, and the walls are messes of remnants of peeled paint and mysterious stains from ages ago. One room (later dubbed the rape room by horrified guests) consists of a pair of four-foot-long wire bed frames, an old sewing machine, and what looks like a noose made from pantyhose. In the corner is a dresser with 4 empty drawers, and one drawer that clearly has something in it, but the knobs have been removed and despite our efforts, we have been unable to pry it open.
The other room in the attic is a little more on the fun end. Other than a pair of disgusting 1940s couches, there is an old Victrola, newspapers from the 1940s (hilarious), as well as an oddly placed dream catcher hanging from a small, 1.5×3 ft “closet”.
All in all, there was a lot of bizarre and interesting things left in the house. The most unexplainable however, showed up a year and a half into my residency. I woke one day only to find scribbled in red on the wall of my bedroom, the word “Miaau.” Nobody has been able to explain what it means or where it came from. Pretty weird stuff.
I shared a house with some friends years ago on the Northeast side of our town.
We’d lived there for a while, but had never really spent much time down in the basement, so we got drunk one night and took a peek around.
The basement was half-finished and had a dirt crawlspace that started under the far edge of the basement, and extended under the porch. My roommate scurries under there with a flashlight and takes a look around. We hear him yell that he’s found something, and minute or so later, he emerges with a black canvas duffel bag clutched in his hand.
Excitedly we opened the bag and found: two black ski masks, a 4 1/2″ hunting knife with a broken handle, and a single black leather glove.
We debated what to do with our find, and eventually we decided to call police non-emergency and ask if any of their detectives were interested in our find.
Turned out they weren’t, so we burned the bag, the mask and the glove, and I kept the knife.
Still have it, too.