I'd returned back to work after my week break, where I felt the ghost of that little girl in that abandoned boneyard, and for the past few weeks everything being hokey dory until, just recently, I was given a shift manning this street that has these abandoned houses. These houses are earmarked for demolishment because of what happened in the '22 flood (see the man on the roof). Just me, another TC and the Team leader manning two portable traffic lights along a street that no cars drive along. This street also has an abandoned high school (asbestos I believe is the reason, that's how old this school was) but can't be demolished because it's Historical Listed, lovely old building I should add, built around 1880's with these strange gothic towers (prison towers the kids used to call them), one of them used to be the bell tower but now the street itself is now devoid of life, really weird and why we were manning this street because of a f**king railway bridge that there council wants to get rid of and use this street as a throughfare, hint at why they want this old houses and school demolished, to 'divert' the traffic out of the CBD. Bloody confusing and waste of Rate Payers money (mine included even though I'm literally paying my own wage, so there's one upside to it all.)
I arrived at 6pm, relieved the person who was there during the day and settled down in my deck chair, did my usual radio check with the other TC who just rocked up then just sat there for a while, couldn't be f**ked looking at my phone and just sat there, looking around me. Then got into a chat with both the TL and the TC over the two-way about footy and what-have-ya. I decided, out of sheer boredom that I might take a look around which I did. Most of the houses are, as I said before, empty, which was a waste. Could've fixed the houses up and either house the homeless or at least sell them as they were dated back to the 20s and the 30s, grand old places. Okay some looked they're about to fall to bits, but the rest looked stabled to me. Being a curious, I decided to have a peep inside one of the houses, just want to see the inside, maybe even get into one of them, which I did. Which was an effing mistake.
It was a four-room dwelling, an old Queenslander with stairs up leading into the front of the house, an enclosed porch which would've been a summer-room to sit with your vistos or whatever then the hallway leading down into the darkness. The stale smell of enclosure invaded my sense of smell, dampness, rat piss and droppings, mice piss and little pellets (that oddly looked like those chocolate bullets), even smelt human piss but as I was approaching what was the living room and beyond that was the kitchen, I started to feel somewhat uneasy. I knew I was 'trespassing,' but it was out of curiosity (boredom more like), but I kept walking down the dark corridor. The only light was my phone. I came to the kitchen door which was closed and then when I thought I heard what sounded like a radio playing Johnny O'Keefe's 'I'm a Counting on You' (from 1963 I think) and some woman was singing along, out of tune. I stood where I was, not moving then the song and the singing faded. I didn't open that door, no effing way, I was out like an effing flash, back to where I was meant to be. Don't think I'll be taking that shift again. That was a bit too weird for me.
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