I bought a house about 5 years ago, a fixer-upper with a few flaws, but enough charm to override any complications.
Mostly all of the work involved was going to be updating old fixtures and clearing out what seemed like a couple decades worth of unattended normal maintenance (mowing, clearing out weeds, vacuuming, etc.).
Apparently the story was that the family had gone on vacation sometime in the 1970s and went missing. The brother of the father inherited the estate, and was supposed to upkeep or sell the home but ended up coming to see the house once and not caring after that. It made sense because I bought the home based on price rather than features, and I basically told my real estate agent to, “Look around for something on the market for a while or forgotten about, because I didn’t have the funds to buy something new.”
I guess the house was under ownership by the bank or police or something, and probably tossed aside considering it was kind of out in the middle of nowhere and wouldn’t be an eyesore for people around it.
I fixed up the house to the best I could, and I was proud of it. It looked like something straight out of the 60s, wood paneling, bright colors, but I liked that style, so I was alright with it.
I invited some of my friends over to have some beers, a sort of small house-warming thing to celebrate my seemingly great purchase.
We were in the backyard grilling, having a good time, and my buddy says “Hey, whats that hatch over there?”
I knew what he was talking about, I had mowed around it previously and wondered the same thing. I came up with the idea that it went to a septic tank or some sort of sewage system. It was locked, and would remain so if the sewage part rang true.
I remember telling my friend something like, “Oh, I think it’s a septic tank or sewage or something.” It made sense because I lived so far out, using city sewers was out of the question.
My buddies, being diabolical bastards, disagreed and started saying stuff like “It’s proly a hole to a sex dungeon,” and “C’monnnnn, see what it is.” Then someone mentioned a fallout shelter, and it kind of clicked at that moment.
The house is from the 60s, people were getting shelters left and right, it probably was a fallout shelter. I’m really interested in fallout shelters, so my interest was peaked.
I got a set of bolt cutters out of my shed and walked back to join my friends, which had now gathered around the hatch expectantly.
I chopped the standard key lock off and opened the hatch door. It smelled terrible, one of the worst damn smells I have ever witnessed. Everyone took a step back and gagged.
"Oghhhh. I gotta go in just to see what the fuck that smell is now." One of my friends said, putting his shirt over his mouth and nose.
He climbed down the ladder and pulled out his keys which had a small flashlight on them. We looked as he shone his light around and immediately scrambled back up the ladder.
He fell to his knees right outside of the hatch and threw up immediately. I remember someone made a joke about how he never could hold his alcohol and someone asking “Smells worse down there?”
He kind of just looked up at us and backed away from the hatch more.
We knew something was up at this point because he would have reacted to something we said. He was very pale and very scared looking.
I grabbed the light from his keychain and started climbing down the ladder. Something was down in this hole that scared my friend, and it was on my property, so I really wanted to get rid of it or at least know what it was. One of my other friends followed with a zippo and I waited for him to reached the ground with me.
It was a fallout shelter, I could see beds and empty food cans and jars from where my light touched as I waited for my friend to get situated.
Then I saw something that scarred me for the rest of my life.
It was table, and at the table sat 4 people, or what people looked like after years of decomposition. A mother sat with a plate in front of her, slumped over in her chair, her hair bedraggled and thinning, falling on the dusty white tablecloth that adorned the table.
She looked mummified, her skin was browned and leathery looking. Her eye sockets recessed, dried, white, cloudy orbs sat loosely inside them.
A little girl, only identifiable by the dress she wore, had fallen over the table, resting on the edge, jaw ajar. Her hair also flaked and grayed over the table, her skin as if someone had vacuum sealed it to her bones.
A boy, maybe a little older than his sister, sat upright with his hands on the table as if he was still waiting to be excused from supper.
Finally, a father, sat at the head of the table. His head tilted back in his chair, his arm hung down to his side, holding a revolver in his hand. A hole blown out of his head. This moment told a story, but now it was all just a harrowing sight.
Me and my friend rushed out of the shelter and I called the cops.
Over the next couple of days, a few officials came to my house and continually examined the scene and took in the bodies.
The mother, son, and daughter all died from poisoning, as I came to learn, and the father obviously killed himself.
Apparently the decomposition showed that they died sometime in the early to mid 60s. Examiners offered up the idea that they probably got the shelter secretly, and lied to their family about having shelter. They probably got in there during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the father probably got scared and thought this was the best plan of action.
An older man came by a few weeks later, and claimed to be the brother that was supposed to take care of the house. He explained that he and his brother were never really that close as children. He also explained that once the property became his, he too opened the hatch and smelled the stench and assumed it was a septic tank. he said he put the lock on the hatch and he felt very guilty about it, locking in the bodies of his relatives like putting them in a grave. He explained that the home was not worth his time because he lived rather far away, as most people did, and no one was going to buy it anyway.
Then he said something that really bothered me and that I still think about. “David and Michelle were a fine couple. And Junior, Mary, and Lily were such beautiful children.”
I didn’t think about it until after he left. There were only the bodies of 2 children in the shelter, but he said that there were 3 children.
I went back down into the shelter and noticed that there was a fifth chair at the table. I called the examiners and asked them about how many bodies they recovered and they confirmed my suspicion. They only recovered 4 bodies, 2 adults, 2 children.
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Credits to: CM1288
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