People knew either from the abnormal stories or the occasional sighting that this place was peculiar. Secluded into the hillside the piles of rocks glued still, together for many generations by overwhelming amounts of moss and wild grasses, that continues to exceedingly expand and grow, as each occasional sighting was recorded. The mounds of ever increasing grasses had recently decided to grow on the sheer amount of tin that was speculated to be a roof of some kind years ago. A half open window was painted with wispy tired and damaged webs, dancing in the cool breeze that was coming over the ominous mountains, and across the deep unexplored lake, outstretched to as far as the eye could see. It was clear to me that this place has been unexplored either out of pure fear from its odd presence it perceived or the stories that were whispered under the counter by the country folk at the closest town 10 miles away. But there was no certainty that the stories that I had heard had any accuracy to them. Still the abandoned cottage in the valley between two mountains remains unoccupied. Will we ever know why? You may never know.