I gripped my guitar by the neck, the black leather strap lightly tapped the guitar with every step I took. The sound of speeding vehicles rung in my ears, the wind from them pulling a few strands from my hair as it blew some of the overgrown weeds on the side of the road.
My body took a few elevated steps, and sat on the cold concrete in front of the old, brick building. Throwing the guitar strap over my shoulder, I began strumming the instrument. An occasional hum would escape my lips; my body began to slightly move with the music, it took me over.
I heard the sound of metal drop at my feet, some hitting the other. My eyes drifted from my guitar to three men, two of which held cameras. Right off the bat I recognized them.
My playing had stopped, with a nervous chuckle, I pushed my bangs out of my face. Upon looking at the ground to break the awkward eye contact, noticing there were some coins and a couple of bills sitting at my feet.
"Why'd you stop playing?" The man without the camera questioned.
"Uhhhh... I um-," I began to stamper. "You gu- Well you see-"
The three men all let out a small chuckle. "It's fine," the man stated holding out his hand to help me up. Without thinking I accepted.
"I'm Zak," the man introduced himself.
"I'm Hannah," I replied with a smile as I propped my guitar on the concrete railing to the house.
"The bald guy is Aaron, and he is Nick," with each man he signaled they stuck their head from behind the camera and waved.
"Why are you all here?" I quizzed. "No one ever comes here."
"We're here to investigate this building," one of the men informed from behind his camera, as a bald headed man peered at me.
"Why this building in particular?" My curiosity was engaged as to why these three men were here.
This town is a small one, nothing ever goes on here. It's the same old same old, man runs a stop light news story kind of town. It's the stereotypical everybody knows everybody place. It's not the place to have paranormal investigations.
"Reports of attacks on the construction workers who are trying to repair it. As well as, when the building was up and running there were reports of mysterious activity. We are at the right building, right?" The man without a camera wondered allowed. "We are at the Gomez Building, aren't we?"
"Yeah, that it is," I answered nodding my head.
"Are you the owner?" Nick pondered as he peered around his camera.
"No, I just enjoy coming here and playing, most days." I watched as Zak's expression changed from a straight face to a confused one in the blink of an eye.
"What do you mean most days?" He addressed after rubbing his chin with his thumb in thought.
"I don't know, there's something that just pushes me away from the building sometimes and then other times it pulls me to it. It's weird."
The three men all look at each other and nod their heads, I look up at them feeling confused about the nonverbal exchange I just witnessed.
"Have you ever gone into the building?" Zak interviewed.
"Once, on a dare," I begin. "It was when I was fifteen, about ten years ago to-date. My friends and I used to do this dare Tuesday thing; we'd have to do different dares we had for each other and if we didn't do them we had to pay the darer twenty dollars if we did it we got paid the twenty dollars." I stopped thinking back to the night. "There was a window, right around here," I disclosed pointing around the building and to my left.
