The Mint condition properly sleeved Isaac Bradley baseball car that I needed for my collection turned out to be listed from a cellar in an absolute eyesore of a town.

Sure, I'm legally obligated to wear my prescription glasses when driving, but in Gary, Indiana,

I've never ripped them off my head faster than when I was driving around that hellhole.

It was an utterly haunting Hellscape filled with abandoned ruins of houses and lost hope left right and

center. If I was breaking the law and not, I simply didn't care anymore. My eyeballs couldn't

goddamn breathe. My GPS ended its journey with a ping.

Gravel crunched and popped under my tyres as I rolled into the driveway around half past five.

The place was downright decrepit. rolled into the driveway around half past five.

The place was downright decrepit, cut brown fencing had fallen away from around the property,

leaving sharp posts that could have been fit for Vlad the Impaler.

Mossy fingers and crows climbed the dilapidated buildings, covering its wooden bordered walls and

splashes of sage.

My years of searching for the end to my collection with no avail had brought me here staring into the abyss of an

abandoned house's open screen door. God help me.

Hey man, here to pick up the Isaac Bradley card?

I closed the car door behind me as I planted two shoes onto gravel.

The cellar was a sickly pale and plump man with two sunken eyes, bloated slimy flesh, held up his baggy shirt and

slicked hair greased around his face.

Bodies pulled from the river never looked far off from how this creep did.

I should have turned around and left when he didn't reply and only stared at me unblinkingly

in the shadow of the door frame. Yet, my collection beckoned me to step forward.

Isaac Bradley beckoned me.

...