Neds Town

There it was, a big wooden sign with the phrase “Neds Town” written over now non-identifiable words in splattered orange paint.

I had been trekking across the U.S., and was somewhere in the south west near California when I had passed through “Neds Town.”

I’ve seen many small towns with their own quirks and uniqueness to them, usually having a low amount of residents with few to no eventful things going on in their lives. The towns they lived in usually reflected this.

 

It’s rare though when you’re greeted by absolutely no human life in seeing distance though.

 

The deafening silence of the town immediately hung over me with its presence, and the lack of people only supported it. The buildings looked ancient, like out of an old cowboy western movie. It was the ideal Hollywood ghost town.

The buildings LOOKED like they had been lived in and used at some point though. I could see that furniture was set up in the housing and restaurants, and even make out dirty footprints scattered across porches and stairs.

The archaic architecture, obliterated window panes and the peeling paint all showed that the town had been long abandoned though, and gave of a somber and sorrowful tone I haven’t felt in long time.

I decided it would be interesting to get out though and explore. I enjoyed urban exploration before when I was younger with nearby abandoned parking garages and empty homes, and even now that has transcended into adulthood with my love of traveling over the U.S. and exploring what its small towns have to offer, but I have never explored an actual ghost town before.

I parked my truck in front of a small shack that looked like it was some kind of vegetable market back in the day, but it was completely destroyed, more so then even the other buildings around it.

I hopped out and headed over to the destitute old saloon near the front of the town.

Yes, and I mean the type of saloon where you’d see bandits hang out in to play billiards and smoke cigars in movies.

It looked to be a wreck, the upholstery on the chairs was a tattered mess, and dirt and all sorts of garbage littered the floor. Some chairs were broken on and smashed, and I swear I must have saw the most flies I’ve ever seen in my lifetime buzzing around the place.

 

 

The weirdest part though was the carrots.

 

 

They were placed everywhere, and I mean literally placed.

Some carrots were sat up on chairs, leaning against the back. Some were sitting on stools at the bar counter. Some were even put into positions that made me laugh yet impressed at the dedication, with certain ones positioned like they were playing an intense game of pool, while others were sat next to empty down turned beer bottles like they passed out drunk.

I stood there in confusion and amusement, looking around like I was at some abstract art gallery.

Still in awestruck, I finally left the saloon regretting leaving my phone in the car this time around. I went out the double doors and found my way back into the center of the town, deciding where I might go next.

Noise was coming from one of the houses, and it sounded like two people talking in a muffled conversation. I walked over hoping to find someone living there to explain why the town was so empty, but once I got over to the house it looked as abandoned and decrepit as the rest of the town.

The door was missing from its frame, and I walked in half-scared some lowlife drugged out of his mind was going to jump out and knife me.

Instead, what I saw baffled me.

More carrots.

Someone had actually left the TV onto some local news channel, and had set the carrot in a patterned cushion chair with an empty pipe stuck into it like it was some kind of image of a nuclear family dad.

I left the room and looked at the kitchen, to find two carrots sitting opposite of each other at a dinner table, with one baby carrot sitting in a high chair. The plates were empty besides some puny piles of meat sitting in the middle I couldn’t identify but looked like it had been recently placed judging by the lack of flies.

Before I was amused, but now this actually amazed me. An entire series of questions bombarded my mind.

Who was doing this? What’s the point? If no one is around to look at this, and this isn’t being advertised anywhere, why the hell would someone set this all up? Who are they doing this for?

 

Just then, I heard a sharp THUD, coming from one of the more worn down buildings near the edge of the town I spotted outside the shattered window.

 

It sounded like something was dropped on the ground, like metal on wood. I ran to the old shack as fast as I could to try to catch a glimpse of some coyote or other animal sniffing around the place for food.

I opened up the creaky door barely hanging by its frame, and walked in.

The building was nearly empty, besides a door to my left and a far reaching hallway contorting in front of me. I could hear noises coming from the hallway as I listened.

The first thing that I had noticed though was the horrendous, awful smell coming from the closed room next to me. I instinctively plugged my nose and walked on, trying to go beyond the terrible stench and to see what was making all the racket in the other room.

I paced down a narrow and dark hallway, using my hands to guide me by touching the walls that were starting to feel closer and more claustrophobic the further I got in.

After passing a few more turns, I had found the door of the room that the noise sounded like it was coming from.

The door looked nearly destroyed, handle crushed, and I could see a blinding yellow light coming from beneath it.

I slowly opened the creaky door to see what was inside.

 

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