The Wolfe’s Den



Hello all, according to my last post it has been almost a year since I released a new story! So much has happened in the past ten months and I am just so excited to have logged back into WordPress and put my eyes on my blog again! I have been extremely busy learning and growing as both a writer and a photographer and, although it is something that I absolutely love doing, it has taken me away from my blog for some time now. Last February I embarked on the journey of writing a novel and it is this which consumes my time. In one year’s time I have completely outlined the storyline, written my first draft (In just six weeks when it takes the average writer up to six months!), edited it and I am now in the process of preparing a complete rewrite. In addition to this I have continued with my explores, collecting countless photos and story ideas to share with you all. I have even spent the night in an abandoned asylum as research for my novel and it was an experience that I will never forget! All of this on top of a full life of raising five kids and going back to school!

Having so many responsibilities has kept me from my blog but it has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. I love writing my novel, but it is a huge project which will most likely take me the better part of another two years (especially once my classes pick up). Writing short stories has always been fun and rewarding for me because it challenges me to keep my writing tight and seeing something finished in a matter of a week’s time is something I miss since writing my novel. I work hard on it each and every day but such a big project leaves me longing to see something completed. Which brings back here, where scanning through pages of my stories and seeing unfinished drafts has me excited all over again. I will be continuing work on my novel, but I have decided to set one day aside in the week to work on writing short stories. I am looking forward to completing the stories I have on hold and to create more. I have been to some amazing places in the past year and made some awesome memories…’s time to get to work. Watch this space for new stories and thank you for spending time among my adventures even in my absence.






Best Moments Award


Awarding the people who live in the moment,
The noble who write and capture the best in life,
The bold who reminded us what really mattered –
Savoring the experience of quality time.

To receive an award of any kind is always a blessing, but to be presented with one under such a title means so very much to me. You see, I believe that our lives are made up of special moments, strung together over time offering us a unique and exciting journey. These moments do not only present themselves in extraordinary places but, rather, surround us as we move along in our day to day lives waiting for us to recognize them, seize them and recieve the gifts that each one reveals. My moments have created laughter, memories, experiences and a passion for life that can never be stifled and I thank you for presenting me with one more moment I will never forget.


Winners re-post this completely with their acceptance speech. This could be written or video recorded.

Winners have the privilege of awarding the next awardees! The re-post should include a NEW set of people/blogs worthy of the award; and winners notify them the great news.


  • What makes a good acceptance speech?
    • Gratitude. Thank the people who helped you along the way
    • Humor. Keep us entertained and smiling
    • Inspiration. Make your story touch our lives
  • Get an idea from the great acceptance speeches, compiled in
  • Display the award’s badge on your blog/website, downloadable in

Those who I wish to Acknowledge:

1. The Bookshelf of Emily J.

2. Sun and Glory

3. The Heart of Art

4. Sugar and Cloth

5. A Year of Reading the World

6. California Pixie

7. The Image Maker

8. Belopotosky

9. Amaryllis Log

10. Roam About Mike

11. Pinky Binks

12. A Big Life

13. Bridget Ehemann

14. nomadruss in words and photos

15. Picturette

The Versatile Blogger Award

I was thrilled to discover that I have been nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award by one of my favorite bloggers: Dressed to Quill. To know that others enjoy my writing and the time and effort I put in to this blog means more to mean than any of you will ever know.


There a few things one must do when accepting this award:


* Display the Award Certificate on your website

* Announce your win with a post and link to whoever presented your award

* Present 15  awards to deserving bloggers

* Drop them a comment to tip them off after you’ve linked them in the post

* Post 7  interesting things about yourself


I have come across so many great blogs that this was a tough task to narrow it down to just 15. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. John Henry Beck

2. Dressed To Quill

3. Screwiness-o-rama

4. Harry Alston

5. Lucewriter

6. Gabriel Lucatero

7. GeoTopoi

8. Edith Levy Photography

9. Life With The Top Down

10. Indigo on Papyrus

11. weaklyshortstories

12. The Spirited Quill

13. Chaos and Words

14. Jenna Scribbles

15. I’m not quite here, nor there


7 Interesting things about me:

1. I have a severe phobia of clowns

2. I always have a sucker with me

3. My second love next to writing is Photography

4. My exercise consists of Interval Training and Pilates

5. I have six tattoos

6. Smiling is my favorite

7. I love off roading and mudding

Thank you so much, Dressed To Quill, for including me among your chosen 15. And to everyone who tunes in to read my latest story of adventure into the places I love to get lost in. It’s the support and encouragement of everyone that makes all my hard work worth it. Much love to you all.

~ O

When Life Throws Snowballs Instead Of Lemons


© Olivia Wolfe ~ 2013

Writing comes from somewhere deep within and I would love nothing more than to be able to escape each day into my world of creating. Most every day this wish is granted but sometimes life happens, my mind is drawn away from my projects and I must put off my deadlines until another day. The snow has returned to our sleepy little town, bringing with it subzero temperatures which reached as low as ten degrees below zero throughout the night. With the promise to get even colder, school has been cancelled, unleashing the excitement and limitless energy of my kids as they run through the house chasing zombies, blast the stereo as the dance party continues and argue over whether it will be Build-a-Bear or Minecraft which will grace the computer screen.

It was my original plan for today to get them off to school, finish my latest story and hit the publish button, but that’s just not possible. As I sit here ducking from incoming Nerf Bullets, I do my best to block out the blaring sounds of One Direction along with the lovestruck cries they are causing but all concentration is lost in the process as my interest turns to discovering who will win the fight for the screen between bears and imaginary worlds. As I look around me I am assured that there will be no writing today, nothing will get accomplished. Some might say that life has thrown me lemons but with today’s forecast it’s more like snowballs which, unlike lemons, sound a lot more fun.

Through the chaos I see something else, something much better than any day of work can offer: I have been given the opportunity to spend more time with my kids. That thought is one that always brings a smile to my face, so my story will be put off another day for I have zombies to chase, a dance party to attend and a yummy distraction from electronics with a baking session to help keep the house warm. Have a fantastic day, everyone. I’m going to enjoy my Snowballs :’)

~ O

Behind The Lens

Urbex baby

Just who are the people behind the photographs you see of Beautiful Decay? Shrouded in mystery, many think we must have extraordinary attributes to be doing what we do but when we remove our masks, set aside our backpacks and put down our cameras, we are just everyday people brought together by the common bond of curiosity and the drive to explore the unseen places around us. A lot of people tend to get the wrong idea of who we are, thinking that because we find ourselves in the very places society tells us we shouldn’t be, that we are problematic and reckless in our adventures. Instantly, we are put in the catagory of delinquents and are often looked down upon. But this is not so and if you were to spend just a few moments’ time with us you would see we are just like you.


Photo credit ~ Rodney Desolatestates Fotography

Coming from all walks of life, we are Office Managers, Nurses and Fulltime Moms. We are both young and seasoned in our years, working among you as bartenders, receptionists and railway operators. The only difference is that we choose to spend our down time a bit differently than most. Instead of camping, hiking, gardening or fishing, we choose to lose ourselves in the abandoned side of life. Rather than a day on the hot sandy beaches, we prefer to crawl through dirt and grime and will forgo the time spent in a dark crowded movie theater for the chance to scale fences and precarious staircases. But why do we do this? There are many different reasons.


Photo Credit ~ Peter Arnemann

For some, it’s about the photographic oppotunities which lie behind locked doors and capturing them before the location is reduced to a pile of rubble. For others it’s the fascination for what used to be and the history which draws us in. But what all of us carry is a deep rooted stint of curiosity and the insatiable need to explore uncharted territory. Whether we were introduced to exploring through the coaxing of a friend or had a fascination with the sight of crumbling buildings since we were children, we do what we do out of the need to discover, bringing us to the disremembered resorts, dissolving factories and disregarded chapels which dot our skylines.


Photo Credit ~ Cecily McGuckin

A day spent Climbing the machinery of industrial sites, walking among the medical equipment of asylums or in the midst of faded chalk boards and forgotten books of deserted schools is where we are content. Are we wrong for what we do? Does our chosen past time make us peculiar? No, it just makes us who we are. Through my travels I have had the pleasure of meeting so many amazing people and I look forward to meeting many more as I continue on my ventures, for never will you meet a better band of people than you will find among the explorers of the world. Carry on, my friends, and stay safe as we gear up and head into the realm of the unknown. Never stop exploring.


Photo Credit ~ Joe Cozzi

Only The Darkness Remains

A single light bulb flickered dismally as it swung slowly above Mary’s head, causing the shadows to slither across the walls of the cold, windowless room. She stared silently behind paralyzed eyes, her hospital gown crumpled after her first night’s stay in her cell and her matted hair clinging to the dirty skin of her face. But she made no move to wipe it from her view. There was no point in moving, in struggling. She had been restrained since she arrived, first to her bed throughout the night and now here, to the hard wooden arms of the chair as she sat forcibly facing the frigid doctor across from her. Sitting straight in his crisp white medical jacket, he said nothing as he wrote intently in his notes. Mary watched the pen fly furiously across the paper until, finally, he set it down and pushed the thin wire glasses up on his face and raised his eyes to hers.

The session had begun an hour ago and he cast an irritated look across the table. The only sound between them was that of the recorder as the ribbon twisted through its gears in an attempt to capture the accounts of the night before. As it reached the end of the reel, he snapped the Stop button and hit Rewind. The ribbon squeeled in protest as it was forced back to its starting point before he pushed Record again. “I need you to tell me what happened in that basement.” But his intimidating glare did nothing to move Mary. What had taken place in the darkness was far worse than anything he could unleash. She said nothing. They wouldn’t believe her anyway. No one did. That’s why she had been brought to this miserable place, because she was crazy. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t made anything up. She had not self mutiliated herself as they were all claiming.

They never should have moved into that house. Something had been waiting for them. It began with the voice, coming in the middle of the night, waking her with its soft calming whisper. Alone in the darkness she was first afraid at what was with her in her room but the soothing tone enticed her out from under the warmth of her blankets to “Come and see.” Stopping at the threshold of her room, she peered toward the dimly lit staircase at the end of the hall. Using her hand along the wall to guide her, she followed the whisper as it led her down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen. It was here that she had stopped, her bare feet tingling as she stood on the cold linoleum in front of the basement door. The sweet voice beckoned from the other side, “Come and see.” But when she couldn’t move,  her resistance provoked the presence and the door resounded against an ear shattering blow as it shook within its frame. She staggered back in horror as the voice now hissed. Stumbling in the dark, she backed out of the kitchen and ran for her room.

Each night the whispers came, and each night she hid under her covers in hopes that they would go away. She had gone to her parents but was scolded for making up such horrible stories. She had pleaded for them to listen, but they refused, telling her she was never to talk about such nonsense again. She did as she was told, and to her surprise, the whispers stopped. Weeks passed without incident when her parents chose to let her stay home while they went out. Standing in the front hall, her father gave a last look back over his shoulder, reminding her with a stern look. There was to be no problems. She locked the door and watched them pull from the drive. In the sudden realization that she was alone, her eyes couldn’t help but wander to the kitchen and the basement door which stood just inside.

Wanting a distraction, she settled in on the couch to watch TV. Then within the background noise she heard it. That soft familiar whisper. Barely audible, she lowered the volume for a better listen. But there was nothing. Convinced she was just scaring herself, she turned it up just a bit louder than before and pushed the thought from her mind. Again, more whispering. Soft at first, but as she ignored it, it grew in competion with the chatter on TV until, finally, she clicked the console off in frustration. As the characters disappeared, so did the whispers and she sat in silence, afraid to move. Her eyes wandered back to the kitchen and within the shadows, she heard the lock on the basement door disengage and the slow creaking sound of the hinges filled the kitchen. She couldn’t take her eyes off the darkness. Surely she had to be hearing things. The basement door was closed. Wasn’t it?

Forcing herself up from the couch she took slow and steady steps to the doorway of the kitchen. Standing still for just a moment, she brought up a shaky hand and eased it into the blackened room, feeling frantically along the wall for the light. Relieved to find it, she flipped the switch and trepidation consumed her as the kitchen exploded with light. The basement door stood open. She held her breath in anticipation of what would be coming up the stairs, but nothing happened. The whispering had stopped. She waited endlessly for another sign but she did not get one. She knew what she had to do. She had to close it. Inching across the kitchen, her muscles tightened in resistance to the task. Each step closer made it harder to breathe. Now standing within reach of the doorknob, her hand trembled as she reached out to grab it, quickly slamming the door back into its frame.

She only felt slightly better with it closed, but she couldn’t walk away. As she stood frozen, the door exploded with the sound of splintering wood and, though she tried to turn and run, she could not escape. She was thrown to the ground and immediately began crawling away, but it was too late. In one swift movement, the entity had her hair entangled in its invisible grip and she could feel herself being dragged backwards. Toward the voice. Toward the darkenss. She tried desperately to grab on to anything, digging her nails frantically in to the floor until they fractured under the pressure of her grasp. As she reached the stairs, in the split second before darkness took over, she fought for a glimpse at what she was about to face. But she saw nothing. Screaming vehemently, she was wrenched into the abyss and the door swung fiercly closed behind her. She was gone.

“Mary.” The doctor’s voice jarred her back to the present. To the restraints. Still, she said nothing. Instead, a formidable smile slowly crossed her face and an unsettling laugh escaped her lips as she peered at him through cold spiritless eyes. Why must he insist on calling her that? The darkness had come up from the depths of the basement. It had conquered. It was in control. Mary wasn’t here anymore.

© Olivia Wolfe ~ 2012