This is the “Bones Edition” of Found Things, which is a photographic collection of bones and dead things I’ve found in various asylums, hotels and houses over the course of many years. These are from all different places, and I will not reveal the locations of any of them, so don’t ask. Also, don’t read any further if you’re squeamish (read: if you’re a pussy.)
To start off, let me explain that photo I post earlier and everyone wigged out about:
This guy. Let’s call him Harold. Right off the bat, allow me to rain on my own parade: This is NOT a dead body. Nothing about him is real, much to my profound disappointment.
We stumbled across Harold in a dark, dingy basement, of course, because certain horror movie tropes are based on real things. My buddy Mike came across it first, I was busy dickin’ around in a pile of trash. Then we both just stood there staring at it like, “……” Because of the hole in his chest, there were a few terribly exciting seconds during which we thought we found a murdered body and were gonna have to call the cops. But a metal rod sticking out of the back of his spine quickly dispelled that theory, and further examination of the body revealed the hair was a wig and the bones were plastic. For the rest of the day, I kept hearing Crispin Glover in my head saying, “I poked it with a stick.”
A little palette cleanser for ya, a bird that died in the most unrealistic position I’ve ever seen, found on the windowsill in an abandoned mansion. It looks like a hipster tattoo come to, er, not life.
A mummified rat in an asylum.
Skeleton bones in an old tuberculosis hospital. Here’s a few more from the same place:
A mummified possum in the tunnels. There are usually at least one or two dead possums, raccoons or cats in tunnels, and they often mummify because of the undisturbed environment.
A bird with its head on backwards at an asylum.
This is not not a real skull, unless it was outfitted with fake teeth. Otherwise it’s most likely part of a plastic skeleton.
Ye olde pile o’ bones. It’s rest of the skull above, the dome and random skeleton bones.
Mere minutes before we found this dead cat in an asylum morgue, I was telling my friend Katey about the Legend of Rebob Mountain, a prominent half fabricated/half ostensibly true story in the town I grew up in. It involved the mountain at the edge of town, the base of which my childhood home just happened to be located. My street was the last street on the map before the road disappeared up into the mythical Rebob Mountain, which was populated by flying monkeys that stole children in their sleep. They were accompanied by (supposedly real) devil worshippers who skinned cats. My neighbor once claimed to have found a skinned cat, which was all we needed to let the rumors run rampant in the imaginations of all the kids on the block. I had a friend in second grade who refused to come to my house because of its proximity to Rebob Mountain.
Just as I was wrapping up the part about the devil worshipers and skinned cats, Katey and I walked into the morgue, and saw a pentagram painted on the floor. While I was laughing about that, my flashlight came across this dead cat that someone obviously hoisted up into the ceiling pipes. KIDS THESE DAYS, AMMIRIGHT?
Disclaimer: If any information on this post is incorrect, if you have more info or would otherwise like to tell me something, feel free to contact me.