Kris saw it out of the corner of his eye as he drove down the old dirt road, a building just peeking over the top of the mountain’s shoulder. He stopped the jeep and pulled out his roadmap and compared it with his jeep trail guidebook. Didn’t look like there was a road heading up that way but what he could see was intriguing.
He started driving down the road very slowly, checking the side for some hint of a road or trail up to the old building. As he moved down the road the building disappeared, hidden again by the mountain’s shoulder. He continued his search and not to much later found what he was looking for, a heavily overgrown trail that looked to be heading up the mountainside.
He stopped the jeep and crossed the road to take a better look. He kicked through the underbrush eyeing the trail and his jeep speculatively. Nothing had been on this road for a very, very long time. More importantly there was not even the hint of a no trespassing sign. He glanced back up the mountain, the building was still out of sight, but now he could pick out the trail as it twisted its way upward. He thought he could make it. With a determined stride he crossed the road back to the jeep. Slowly and deliberately he started up the old trail.
He wasn’t sure what he would find at the top, probably just another abandoned mine, a reminder of Colorado’s glory days. The trail twisted and swerved, doubling its way up the mountain. Occasionally he caught tantalizing glimpses of the building as he followed the trail but not enough that he could tell what it was, just a roof, and the top of a tower that looked like it belonged more to a house than in a mining camp.
He kept waiting for the building to come into fully into sight, fighting the urge to try and drive the unused trail faster. In a couple of places he doubted that he would be able to continue but his curiosity got the better of him each time and he a found a way to get across washed out portions of the road.
For the last ten minutes of the drive he could see the top of the roof and the tower and around every corner he expected to see the whole building spread out before him. When he did round the final corner he was so surprised he hit the brakes hard, bringing the jeep to an abrupt stop at the top of the trail, raising a cloud of dust around him.
It was actually a complex of buildings. Against the mountainside was a small stamp mill, with the traditional pile of mine tailings spilling out to one side. The roof that he had been able to see belong to it. He surmised that the mine tunnel either entered directly into the stamp mill or was on the other side that he couldn’t see. Around the mill were a number of other buildings probably to house the miners and their supplies. From the color of the tailings it had been a silver mine and it had been over a 100 years since someone had mined silver in this area.
The dominant building though was the house, a very large, very old Victorian house. Not quite a mansion and the tower he had seen belonged to it. Oddly it all appeared deceptively new. Even the mining buildings had a new feel to them like they had only been here a few years the only debris being the large pile of tailings trailing down the mountain. He could even tell that there had been a lawn around the old house. He shook his head in wonder. Something very odd was going on here.
He drove the jeep to the edge of the lawn, parking next to the start of the flagstone walkway that lead up to the front porch, a porch that ran the full length of the front of the house. He got out and looked around, pulling his camera from the back of the jeep and began taking pictures of all the buildings around him. Then, camera in hand, he walked up the flagstone path to the front porch.
He started to open the front door, then paused and knocked instead. Not a sound could be heard from inside or outside the house, just a soft breath of wind that brought the faintest scent of lilacs with it. As he reached for the knob again he caught some movement from the corner of his eye near the far end of the porch. Turning quickly, with the feeling that someone was watching, he saw no one just the front porch swing, gently swaying in the light breeze. He moved down the porch and sat down on the swing, not a creak could be heard like it was nearly new. Here the scent of lilacs was stronger. He stood and leaned over the porch rail expecting to see lilac bushes growing nearby, but there was nothing just the subtle hint of a lawn and a tumbleweed blowing across it with the breeze.
He went back to the front door, turned the knob and pushed the door open. The door swung open on quiet hinges and he took a step inside. He stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dark interior. Inside the scent of lilacs was unmistakable and yet mixed with something else, something he couldn’t identify, yet was very familiar. He entered a good sized entryway. A broad staircase stood before him about 10’ away. It rose up towards the back of the house and a large window at the top allowed light to spill down onto the stairs and into the entryway. On either side of the staircase were hallways going to the back of the house. To his left he could see through an arched doorway into a parlor, its furniture covered in white sheets. To his right another arched doorway that opened into a library again with the furniture covered in white sheets. He turned towards the library and peered inside. The sheets looked like they could have been put there yesterday. There was not even a hint of dust any where in the room and not a single book appeared to be out of place.
