Not unlike ‘The Cactus Maze,’ I’ve been holding off on visiting ‘The House in Reverse’ for a year or two, but a recent announcement- that ‘The House’ had changed ownership and would soon be implementing a reservation system, lit the fire that has finally landed me on the doorstep. Even now, I am careful. There are signs of recent activity about. Mostly literal signs, indicating that ‘The House in Reverse’ will soon be a bed and breakfast. They’re waiting on a few repairs to be finished and, reading between the lines, they’re still not sure how long that might take.
‘Abandoned for twenty years in the unrelenting weather of Northern Colorado is ‘The House in Reverse,’ which seems to be repairing itself piece by piece rather that deterioriating, as all good and natural things should. The earliest pictures of the house do indicate a skeleton of the building- a foundation and a few men standing about. For many years, these pictures were mistaken for construction, but a closer look has indicated charring on the wood and morose looks on those men’s faces. ‘The House in Reverse’ seemed to have burned down in the early 1900s and subsequent pictures, correctly aligned, reveal its slow return to health.
By the 1980s, ‘The House’ was standing again, though its roof was sunken in as though by snow. By the 1900s, it was dilapidated but whole. By the 2000s it was only the dated and ruined interior that kept it from changing hands.
Now, those that recognize the pattern wonder if they shouldn’t engage in home ownership. Isn’t this a miraculous house? One that repairs itself? One that only gets better at time? Those pessimists among the Wayside believe ‘The House’ is not entirely in reverse, so much as it is caught in a cycle. They believe the house will reach its perfect state and then burn again, like a phoenix, unable to remain new for more than the blink of an eye.
And among the pessimists are those waiting with bodies, to bury in the ashes of the house and to see what its magic will do to the bones.’
I have not brought bones or any intent to meddle with magic or buy real estate. My only intent is to spend the night in the house- to witness what others have reported seeing: dust falling upward, cracks in paint healing over. I’m here to witness and to leave nothing behind.
The doors open easily and the house echoes with my presence. I call a tentative ‘hello?’ into the dark, in case there are others like me or even the new owners. I’ve learned that, in many cases, it’s better to announce myself early on and risk an awkward encounter than to come upon somebody in surprise. I’m happy to be escorted from the premises. I’m not angling to get shot.
Nobody answers.
The house is empty and old. The shades on the windows and the sheets on the bed are musty. A bed makes itself while I’m not looking. A creaking stair squeals and then squeaks no more.
I had planned to camp in the living room, thinking that the bedrooms seemed too personal and much more likely to be maliciously haunted and much harder to escape if the house begins to burn. But there is a pile of dead mice on the floor, stacked like a neat pyramid. I kick it over and find skeletons underneath and then a new mouse runs into the room and joins the pile and dies. My skin feels dry and tight. I worry that ‘The House in Reverse’ is drawing power from living things or else that its chockful of some ancient asbestos-adjacent substance that causes brain damage in mice. Both equally likely in my mind.
This is what the Wayside does to you.
I spend the night in the camper instead, making sure I’m well off the property line.
-traveler
