A Macabre Monastery

Article by guestblogger Lady Decay

This is the account of a peculiar exploration, different from any other abandonded places I had the chance to visit: this place, besides being fascinating, also had a macabre and mysterious twist.

It was November, 2016. We were venturing — my father, my sister, two friends and I — towards an ex convent, which had been abandoned many years before.
The air was icy-cold. Our objective stood next to a public, still operational structure: the cemetery.
The thorny briers were dead and not very high, so it was simple for us to cut through the vegetation towards the side of the convent that had the only access route to the building, a window.
With a certain difficulty, one by one we all managed to enter the structure thanks to a crooked tree, which stood right next to the small window and which we used as ladder.

Once we caught our breath, and shook the dust off our coats, we realized we just got lost in time. That place seemed to have frozen right in the middle of its vital cycle.

The courtyard was almost entirely engulfed in vines and vegetation, and we had to be very careful around the porch, with its tired, unstable pillars.

Two 19th-Century hearses dominated one side of the courtyard, worn out but still keeping all their magnificence: the wood was dusty and rotten, but we could still see the cloth ornaments dangling from the corners of the carriage; once purple, or dark green, they now had an indefinable color, one that perhaps dosen’t even exist.

We went up a flight of stairs and headed towards a series of empty chambers, the cells where the Friars once lived; some still have their number carved in marble beside the door.

Climbing down again, we stumbled upon a sort of “office” where we were greeted by the real masters of the house – two statues of saints who seemed to welcome and admonish us at the same time.

As we were taking some pictures, we peeked inside the drawers filled with documents and papers going back to the last years of the 18th Century, so old that we were afraid of spoiling them just by looking.

We got back out in the courtyard to enjoy a thin November sun. We were still near the cemetery, which was open to the public, so we had to move carefully and most silently, when all of a sudden we came upon a macabre find: several coffins were lying on the wet grass, some partly open and others with their lid completely off. Just one of them was still sealed.

My friends prefer to step back, but me and my sister could not resist our curiosity and started snooping around. We noted some bags next to the coffins, on which a printed warning read: ‘exhumation organic material‘.

A vague stench lingered in the air, but not too annoying: from this, and from the coffins’ antiquated style, we speculated these exhumations could not be very recent. Those caskets looked like they had been lying there for quite a long time.

And today, a year later, I wonder if they’re still abandoned in the grass, next to that magical ghost convent…


Lady Decay is a Urban Explorer: you can follow her adventures in neglected and abandoned places on her YouTube channel and on her Facebook page.

La discoteca ideale – I

Quanti fra voi non hanno mai provato una tenera nostalgia nei confronti dei vecchi 33 giri in vinile? Eccovi una rassegna delle migliori copertine di album che, se non hanno mai cambiato la storia della musica, potrebbero cambiare comunque la vostra vita.

Partiamo, in questo primo articolo, con una serie di titoli a tema religioso. I ragazzi del Minister Quartet implorano un devoto “Lasciami toccarlo!”, mentre i Christian Crusaders fanno sfoggio di tutta la loro eleganza sulla copertina del loro EP feat. la grande star (?) Al Davis.

Il “reverendo a ritmo” Robert White fuma con saggia espressione la sua pipa miracolosa, mentre Mike Adkins ringrazia il Signore per la colomba che ha ricevuto.

Le gemelle Amason sfoggiano dei coraggiosi e sbarazzini tailleur; invece padre McManus, il prete cantante, opta per la sobrietà di un più classico saio.

I Louvin Brothers hanno un piano eccezionale: andare fino all’inferno per cantare le loro agghiaccianti canzonette — una tortura a cui nemmeno il Demonio può resistere. E se non fosse sufficiente, arriva Mike Crain che, più ganzo di Chuck Norris, somministra il colpo di grazia al Satanasso.

La signora (signorina?) Behanna avanza una critica filosofica a Nietzsche, ma lo fa sullo sfondo ambiguo di una serie di bottiglie di alcolici. Forse è da ascrivere all’abuso di alcol anche la copertina del Celebration Read Show, che associa la foto di un bambino a quella di un senzatetto.

Se aveste ancora qualche dubbio sull’esistenza di Satana, forse fareste meglio ad ascoltare Crying Demons, compilation di autentiche registrazioni di gente indemoniata (la possessione diabolica, a giudicare dalla foto, ti trasforma in una specie di Jerry Lewis).
E terminiamo con Dan Bitzer, che aiutato dal suo piccolo Louie, ci racconta con brio e simpatia alcuni passi della Bibbia.

Attenti, perché nel prossimo episodio tratteremo di album sexy ed estremamente piccanti… quindi tenete in caldo il giradischi!

Link agli altri due articoli:
La discoteca ideale – II
La discoteca ideale – III