We chose a path from the sprawling entry that carried us through the oddly colored kitchen with shades that would never belong together. It was as if someone had a vision but was wildly disrupted by their own jumbled thoughts. We lingered there for a moment, both amused and bewildered. The food from the defunct (and currently leaking) refrigerator would have had to taste different in a room so peculiar. The kitchen bled into the oversize dining area, table for 40 perhaps, and the cavernous living room, leading in from the kitchen, ran the length of both the kitchen and dining together. The fireplace on the south wall would have been a plus, a comforting anchor in such a sprawling home, had it not been for the empty, gaping hole where warmth should have been. Instead, it loomed like an invitation into a monster’s mouth, dark and waiting, pulling our eyes toward it as though the house itself wanted to swallow us whole. We were all feeling the same vibes as we looked toward each other, yet the curiosity by then had grabbed us all, holding us tight. We decided to continue.

There were four wall-sized window panels encasing two sliding glass doors leading to a backyard stripped of life–brown, overgrown grass the color of ash, lifeless shrubs clinging to dry soil, and wide sandy paths that seemed to lead in circles. Looking out from the windows we saw a rounded tile porch sitting exposed under the sun, its edges crumbling. Several randomly placed firepits lingered like relics of displaced gatherings that would never return. We attempted to explore more of the withered grounds but found nails in all the doorways leading to the backyard like bars on a prison door.

We continued through the main floor of the home where doorways led to rooms, leading to other doorways. It was a maze of architectural confusion. The primary bedroom, an underwhelming space of poor lighting and cold corners, led to a private bath housing a shower with enough space for 40 people. Perhaps not so “private” after all. All the toilets in the home were wall-hung, and barely hanging. The “walk-in” closet could have been mistaken for another unimpressive bedroom had it not been directly linked to the primary bath with no outlet.

Initially, we were not sure where the supplementary square footage could have been, since there were no inside or outside indications that there were additional floors to the home. The first floor covered about 3,000-square-foot. Where was the other 6,000?

Just as we were exiting the house into the garage (with screws on the exterior doors as well), I noticed a thin hallway leading to a half bath, complete with wall mount toilet. Right next to it was another thin hallway and then finally…a staircase. There was no railing to assist us down, and we had to complete our descent in a single file format, nearly having to turn sideways in places, reminiscent of hiking the Narrows. We landed upon an additional 3,000 square feet, but the stairs kept going. This stairway was a far cry from “A stairway to heaven.” In fact, it could have been a type of hotel where you can perhaps check out, but you can never leave. We were willing to take our chances.

Although there was nothing about this house, to this point, that spoke eccentric charm, but morbid curiosity? Absolutely. What about you? Are you curious enough to stay tuned for another week to see what lies beneath? “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com