I had just completed my first documentary, Beyond the Garden Gate, years ago when I got the itch to begin a new film project. The year was 2001. Beyond the Garden Gate, which captures a year in the life of a garden through time-lapse photography, had just won a Telly Award and began airing on PBS. What would I work on next?
As is most often the case, opportunities for creativity come to you when you least expect them. In October of that same year, I discovered an old abandoned house while driving down Godwin Road in Manassas, Virginia. It wasn't readily apparent, as the house sat back from the road at least 80 yards and was surrounded by rows of conifer trees and brush. Having remained vacant for some time, the entire area was full of tall dead grasses that blocked most of the view. However, I was able to catch a few fright-filled glimpses of the house as I passed down the road. So I had to check it out!
I parked my car in the lot of a baseball field across the street and made my way up the old gravel driveway. As I approached the house, my heart was pounding through my chest. Even more so when I noticed the Beware of Dog sign halfway up. But it was clear that no real tenants still lived there. However, an old Ford LTD sedan with a broken side window remained at the end of the driveway.
The closer I stepped up to the front of the house, my mind raced with ideas for a short spooky film. But I was still scared to death. What if someone came out with a gun? When I reached the front door, I opened it up, stuck my digital camera inside, and quickly snapped a few flash photos. Then I left.
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| The first time I stood in front of the house before taking a few inside pictures. |
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| You can see my reflection in the door window as I took this shot. Then the door was gone. |
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| Original railing post inside. |
It would be a few weeks later, around mid-November when most of the leaves had fallen off the trees and the warm amber shades had set in, that I would return to the house with my Sony mini-dv video camera. Except for a few static shots, the entire shoot consisted of me floating throughout the property and inside the house with a steadicam-like device called the Glidecam 3000. I would later slow down the footage to give it a more surreal effect.
As I was filming, the story began writing itself. After I made a very quick walk-through beforehand to check out floor sturdiness, the detailed remnants of prior human existence appeared in front of my eyes for the first time in my camera screen. "Oh my, I could write something about that!" was what went through my mind with each new discovery.
Something of note. When I returned to the house twice to film, it was obvious that others had been there. Architectural features, like the railing end post and the front door, had been removed, as well as most of the porch screen. In other words, I was not alone. So I was in and out as quickly as possible both times.
I would later return to show the house to a few friends, and finally again in 2003 to capture images of the bulldozed remains. The property had been purchased and is now an open field with power lines for a data center overhead. Many of the trees that lined the driveway are still there, however.
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| I recognize in this rubble much of what I discovered inside, like red carpeting in one room. |
Making of the Film
In 2002, after transferring the footage to digital files, I began writing the film script. The idea that I eventually came up with was a clever switch-up from any horror film I had seen before. As evidenced by old Word documents I recently discovered, I went through several iterations of the narration before settling on the storyline.
Now, almost a quarter of a century later, I am completing the film. It runs a bit over 8 minutes with credits. As I am writing this I am still tweaking a few of the areas so that the point of the film — what actually happens in the story — is not misconstrued. We live in different times 24 years later, and I don't want this to be misunderstood or made into a flashpoint. I have to tell myself that stories are just stories, much like the twisted horror films and books that have been written for decades. It doesn't represent me or my beliefs. And that's probably the biggest takeaway from any film or book: it's beyond what's considered "normal."
I remember sitting next to an acquaintance at a bar several years back after I had written my satirical book of short stories, People Who Need To Die. She said that she was disturbed by the concept, even though she had not read any of it. I reminded her that after she was done drinking, she would run home to catch the latest episode of The Walking Dead, her favorite show.
"What's the difference?" I asked her.
"I'm not sitting next to the writer," she answered.
Something tells me she wouldn't mind an autograph from the writer and producer of The Walking Dead, though.
