And so I continued on, and I spoke into my recorder, the windows all betten and battered from a times of it's old like something raided the rooms of it's torn open for all to see I said to myself, the half broken widows move by the flow of the blowing wind as it moves back and forth like someone is moving it hard in my sight. As I grip my recorder my eyes widen big a certain feeling came over me of creepy felts...