I’ve been working construction for over 30 years now. I began as an apprentice back in the early 90’s, and steadily moved my way up to where I am now in the finance department of a different company in the same industry.
Back in 2005 we got a contract from a new client that we had not worked with previously. At the time, we were a small outfit of only about 20 employees. Our sales team was through the roof with excitement, and once the payment figure for the contract was let slip the rest of us were too. This contract was by far the largest our company had ever landed, but of course things weren’t so simple.
There were a lot of weird stipulations given to us by the interested party. It’s not exactly an employee’s place to know everything about the interested suitor, but this was far beyond the norm. Management wouldn’t say anything about the project or who the interested party was which was a bit unusual.
One day I was brought into the office for a meeting with two of our human resource members. I was sweating bullets, fearing I’d done something wrong but thankfully that was quickly proved to not be the case. After a brief conversation of semantics, one of the ladies posed a question.
“Are you willing to work out of state?” I thought about it a moment, then with a shrug I nodded back and told them I was.
“What about out of country?” I hesitated then, genuinely surprised to ponder the idea. I’d never had to drive more than two hours for work before, and out of country seemed a bit drastic to me.
Before I could answer she made sure to clarify my enhanced pay rate, per diem payments and lodging which they would also handle. My jaw nearly hit the floor when she laid out the significant package they were offering.
“What country? I asked.
“Canada.” I told them I didn’t have a passport or anything, but they said that if I were to accept, they would help me get one in addition handling all the other paperwork. Being young and single, everything seemed to point for me to accept the offer, so I did.
A year later and everything was prepared. I met the crew at the airport and after everyone was accounted for we went inside and got checked in for our flight. It was actually the first time I’d been out of the country, and first time going through customs.
After the headache of going through security we finally arrived at our gate. Our plane was much smaller than I anticipated. Instead of a 747 or something we were in one of those small jets with 2 seats on one side and 1 on the other of the aisle. Once we were on the plane, I then also realized our group were the only passengers on board.
A few hours later and we touched down on the runway. The sudden jolt woke from a long nap, but as I glanced out the window, I noticed something a bit strange. I was told we were working near Toronto, and assumed we’d be flying into the rather large Pearson airport. However, as I glanced out the window, I saw nothing but a lone hangar. There were no other planes around us, and I didn’t see any other buildings either.
“Wow, Toronto airport is a lot smaller than I expected.” I spoke with a chuckle to my foreman seated beside me. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper beard and shook his head.
“It’s not Toronto.” He met my stare as I gave him an inquisitive look.
“We stop to refuel or something?” He shook his head again.
“Not going to Toronto.” That really threw me for a loop, but I didn’t ask anymore. A moment later and the plane came to a stop. Some guys in high-vis jackets then brought over a mobile staircase and maneuvered it up to dock with the plane’s cabin door. A man in a grey suit then ascended the stairs as the rest of us gathered up our belongings.
The crew opened the door and the man stepped inside, smiling warmly as he glanced at all of us. He introduced himself as “John Wilson”; the official representative of our client. He welcomed us and asked if we could all grab our belongings and follow him out.
We did just that, exiting the plane and descending the staircase as the bitter cold gnawed against our skin. All around us was just flat, empty fields as far as the eye could see. There were no signs of cities, or really anything at all aside from the hangar and a vast expanse of rolling fields in every direction.
Our belongings were unloaded from the bottom of the plane as our team followed Mr. Wilson into the hangar. A large, grey bus arrived shortly after in order to take us to the jobsite. It was matt grey with no logos of any kind on it, and not even a license plate adorned it’s tailgate. Once inside, I felt confused as I could see into the bus from outside, but I couldn’t see out from within. It made me realize the windows were one-way glass, and that realization really set me on edge.
Others seemed to realize it too based on their nervous expressions and rhythmic fidgeting. Mr. Wilson stepped on last and seeming to sense our mounting nerves he apologized for the odd circumstances. He explained that the NDA’s we signed extended to the travel to the jobsite as well. He claimed that a great deal of money had already been committed to the project, and secrecy was a top priority for all involved. That was yet another red flag, but by then it was pretty much too late to turn back.
Wilson shut the divider door between the passengers and driver then took his seat at the front opposite the driver. Once that divider door was closed there was no ability to see outside the bus at all. The air brakes hissed as the driver put it into gear and we began to move.
There was a palpable nervousness lingering heavy in the air as we pulled away from the hangar. After about half an hour of travel in an uncomfortable silence we finally felt the bus come to a stop. I heard the driver roll down his window and the subsequent clicking of buttons. It then sounded like a garage door or gate opened outside. The bus then drove on a bit further before coming to a final stop. The divider door in the front then opened and Wilson stepped into the back.
“This is it. It’s a little messy at the moment so please watch your step and follow closely.” One by one we followed him out of the bus, finding ourselves in some sort of large cargo bay. Several flickering lights illuminated the vicinity, but there were no windows on the walls. A single door stood at the top of a short stairwell and Wilson led us directly to it.
As we passed through the door, we found a wide sort of lobby area like that belonging to a hotel or corporate building. Dirty and cracked tiles lined the floor, and flickering lights beamed brightly overhead. Two other men sat towards the opposing end of the room. They rose as we approached and met to shake hands with our foreman and operations manager.
Wilson then guided the rest of us to help ourselves to the snacks and drinks laid out on the table which we happily obliged. A few minutes of meager conversation and snacking followed before Wilson asked us to all take a seat.
He then once again welcomed us all and thanked us for making the journey out. He said that he was available for any questions we may have and that he wanted us to feel as comfortable as possible for the duration of our stay. Once again, he apologized for the unorthodox procedures, but once again reiterated it was for the safety and privacy of everyone involved. Things got weird after that.
Wilson explained that during our stay they had a series of rules that must be adhered to under all circumstances, and breaking them would result in immediate termination from the project.
Remain in your living quarters after midnight and do not leave for any reason unless the emergency alarm is sounded.
Do not attempt to leave the facility without approval from the administration.
Do not enter subblock D3 for any reason.
If any issues or concerns arise, please speak with management right away.
Do not speak to anyone outside of this room about this contract.
Obviously by writing this I’m already breaking rule 5, but I’ll explain why later. They had us all sign a few documents before showing us to the rooms we’d be staying in for the duration of our work. We got settled in our personal quarters soon after, and spent the rest of the night hanging out with the crew and establishing a game plan.
My partner Jake and I were set to begin the process of refurbishing the east wing of subblock A3 as the rest of the team dispersed throughout the rest of A. It was to be floor by floor effort with different teams working on different sections at the same time. The contract mostly consisted of refurbishing the facility with some specialized furnishing work as well. Overall, it sounded relatively straightforward, and with the 12 of us working it was allotted to take about 3 months.
I asked our foreman what this place was, but he admitted he didn’t know. Apparently, all he was told was that it was an old complex which our suitor wanted to reopen. Very vague obviously, but since everything up to that point had been I didn’t really question it.
The next day came and Jake and I along with the rest of the team headed out to begin our work. Once officially inside the ground floor we found an old, seemingly ransacked building laying long-since forgotten. Piles of dust and debris were scattered all around, and various pieces of furniture lay where they had been left who knows how long ago. Many of the ceiling tiles were broken and missing, and bundles of wires dangled down in certain spots. The same tiled floor in the lobby was used all throughout the main level, but was considerably more degraded.
Jake and I soon found subblock A3 and began our initial inspection. It was much the same as the main lobby with about a dozen small rooms in various states of decay. Most of them didn’t look too bad, but there was a significant amount of rust on the doors and exposed framing. The block almost looked like something you’d see in a doctor’s office with the multiple rooms being for patients but again this was never confirmed.
All the rooms were designated for removal and we spent several days demolishing the framing and reinforcing the existing support columns. We replaced sections of the floor as well as some of the sheetrock which had suffered apparent water damage. It was a relatively straightforward task, and by the end of the first week we’d nearly finished the entire section.
Jake was a big smoker, and since there was no designated smoking area he had to ask to be escorted outside by the guards whenever he wanted a cigarette. Apparently either Wilson or one of his colleagues would then take him outside to a walled off section of the property. The small spot had walls on every side, but only a mesh roof which covered the ceiling. Jake returned one night after a smoke with a perturbed expression on his face.
“It’s still light outside.” I gave him a confused look, and checked the time realizing it was about half an hour to midnight. It was mid-August, and I would’ve thought the sun would’ve set hours ago.
“You sure it wasn’t just like a floodlight?” Jake shook his head immediately and sat on the bunk beside me.
“No too bright for that.”
“How is that possible?” He shrugged.
“We must be a lot further north than I thought.” It was a weird thing to ponder, but it did make sense. The flight from our departure flight from Chicago to Toronto should’ve been just under 2 hours, but we had been on the plane for much longer than that.
“You think they lied to us?” I asked. Jake shrugged and ran a hand through his beard.
“I don’t know, but this whole thing is fishy, don’t you think?” It was true; there was something unsettling about the whole thing, but I couldn’t place it. I told myself it was just my nerves of being so far from home. After all, most of the concerns we had could just be explained away by safety and privacy precautions, but since almost everything shady that exists is typically covered by those excuses that didn’t bring much comfort. Either way, we didn’t have anything directly worrying to point to quite yet.
Once we finished up A3, we moved down to C3 to begin the process again as another team tackled B3. That section- and the entire floor really was in a much more squalid state than the floor above. There was bent framing, mangled walls and extensive damage to the electrical systems.
Our lead electrician; Donny was already well at work there, working on the arduous process of removing the damaged wiring and cables. Once we joined him, we helped him continue his work as it was near impossible for us to commence our tasks until the new systems were laid.
Donny was a wise-cracking, sailor-mouthed dude in his mid-40’s. Always making jokes and always laughing in his gruff, raspy voice. He seemed a lot more demure then than he typically was. I just chalked it up to him being tired and didn’t really much about it, until one day I found him crouched over a vent. He saw me enter, and immediately put his finger to his lips as he waved me over. I joined him there by the vent and knelt to his level.
“Listen.” I did as he said, and heard the slight sounds of air surging through the ducts below. We lingered in silence for several seconds before something pierced the serenity. It sounded like a frail, pain-stricken groan, but it wasn’t decisive to me. I couldn’t determine whether my mind had simply imagined it or not, but regardless, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand erect as goosebumps lined my arms.
“You heard that, right?” Donny asked.
“Yeah… is someone down there?”
“Shouldn’t be, as far as I know no one is supposed to be below C floor right now.” The two of us listened again for a few seconds, but heard nothing else.
“Must be one of Wilson’s guys.” I reasoned.
“Yeah, I guess so.” There was a palpable unease the rest of that day. We heard those sounds several more times at varying volumes, but never anything distinct. Although slightly unnerving, I told myself it was probably just Wilson’s guys or some weird effect of the building itself settling.
One of Wilson’s guys joined us down there a few days later. He introduced himself as Mike, and said he’d been working with Wilson for close to a decade now doing security work. An AR15 was strapped on his back at all times, and a pistol clung onto his hip. I thought it was kind of weird we even had security there; especially armed to the teeth like that, but reasoned it was just to ensure no one stole anything or did anything they weren’t supposed to.
Donny had finished the wiring by then, and Jake and I had installed new framing pieces and had begun setting new sheetrock to cover them. As we worked, a sudden noise reverberated through the vents, sounding like a drawn-out sort of moan. All four of us heard it and turned to the vent right as it happened.
“You guys keepin’ hookers in the basement?” Donny asked with a laugh, but Mike looking genuinely unsettled. His face had gone pale and eyes stapled wide open. He then forced himself to chuckle, but it wasn’t sincere.
“If they are, they ain’t said nothin’ to me about it.” Mike glanced around, shaking his head slowly.
“This building is old; real old, probably just some random settling noise I guess.”
“What is this place anyways?” Jake asked. Mike seemed to ponder it a moment, then shrugged.
“I’m not sure. We were just told it was an old mining facility but… this doesn’t seem much like a mine to me.” That much we all seemed to agree on. I then suddenly remembered where we were in the building. Subblock C3, directly above the apparently forbidden D3.
“Why is no one allowed in D3?” I asked, and Mike shrugged.
“Not sure honestly. They just told us there are sensitive materials there that require specialized handlers.” I saw his eyes glance over to the vent and stare at it a moment. I wanted to ask whether he’d heard the noises too, but he spoke before I could.
“Either way, best not to talk about it to management. They don’t like people asking too many questions. Wilson’s a good guy, but you don’t wanna try his patience.” Mike then sauntered off without another word. The rest of us continued our work in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of our shift as the odd vent sounds periodically echoed it’s morose serenade.
That same night after lights out I suddenly woke up in my bunk. I reached for my phone and found it was just past 1AM. I turned over and shut my eyes again, when suddenly I heard something out in the hallway. It sounded like footsteps.
Whoever it was seemed to walk several paces before pausing a moment, then continuing a few more. I listened for about a minute before it seemed to fade away entirely. Up to that point I had never heard anyone pacing the halls after midnight, but I just assumed it was one of the guards or something.
I didn’t sleep much the rest of that night. Every time I managed to dose off, I seemed to suddenly wake up in a stark panic with a really weird state of mind. The only way I know how to describe it is being suddenly freaked out by the fact that I existed. It probably sounds really weird, but I honestly can’t think of a better way of explaining it.
The alarm clock finally went off an eternity later and I rose to get myself prepared for the day. After grabbing my toiletries, I exited the room and made my way down towards the showers. Once I was out in the hall, I noticed several of my coworkers crowded around a spot further down. As I sauntered over to them, I found what held their attention. On the ground was a bunch of bloody rags and shredded pieces of cloth.
“Everybody okay? Whose was this?” He did a headcount once everyone was awake and confirmed everyone was accounted for and in perfect condition. What was weird was that no one seemed to confess to owning the bloody rags. Perhaps it was out of embarrassment or fear of being disciplined or something, but I found it strange that no one would admit it.
When Wilson got there, he inspected the scene as well, but he also confirmed that none of his men had been injured either. We all began working somewhat unnerved that morning. I’d almost finally convinced myself that nothing weird was going on too, but the bloody rags made it clear that something was up.
Jake and I just did our best to get back to work. We picked up where we had left off, and continued on the C3 renovations. Things were mostly quiet and uneventful for a day or two and we were able to make some good progress. After finishing up C3 we moved on to the rest of C level and aided the rest of the team to finish the entire level.
The longer we worked the longer I started to ruminate on how odd the entire situation was; even from the ground level. This anonymous company hired us- contractors from a different country to fly thousands of miles north and work what was a relatively routine project. Why wouldn’t they just hire a local company to do it? Maybe there wasn’t another suitor giving them a fair price, but I can’t imagine flying us all in was the cheapest available option.
Jake seemed bothered by the whole thing too. He seemed to grow quieter and more irritable the longer it went on. On a couple of occasions, I saw him perk up suddenly out of nowhere, as if he was startled by something. I could see the fear brimming in his pallid expression.
“You hear that?” He asked me one day as the two of us worked. I turned to see him staring at the vent with a pronounced grimaced fused onto his face.
“Hear what?” I asked, pausing to listen. After several seconds of silence, I’d heard absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, so I just shrugged at him.
“Nothing, I guess.” He didn’t elaborate beyond that, and I don’t think we spoke a word to each other for the remainder of that shift.
D floor was supposedly the basement of the building even though technically it had 3 subterranean levels. Although D3 in particular was off limits, the rest of D floor was set to be renovated. I went down there that day with Wilson, my foreman and a few other coworkers.
As we descended to the bottom of the stairwell, we found a reinforced stainless-steel door awaiting us. It looked more like a bank vault than it did the entry to a new floor. Wilson pulled out a keyring and began fumbling through them until he found one that fit into the door. The mechanism clicked as he turned it, and Wilson looked back at us.
“Give me a hand with this, would ya?” Myself and another guy stepped up and pushed on the door with him. Even with the 3 of us it was still a tough task to just push the door open. Once we finally had it open, I noticed the damn thing was a half-foot thick slab of steel on reinforced hinges. Needless to say, it seemed a bit overkill for a basement, unless there was something in there worth trying to keep inside.
The entire floor in general was a mess as well, looking as though a tornado had ravaged through it. The walls were torn and collapsed with all sorts of structural damage all around the vicinity. Luckily it seemed like the framing was mostly intact, but the damage was much more severe than the other floors.
I sighed internally, as I was hoping that final floor would cut us some slack and be quick, but it didn’t seem like that’d be the case after all. It was long after that when we spied the forbidden section of D3 standing derelict and sealed. A large metal door similar to the one we’d entered in through stood there seeming to glow in the shadows with the glimmer of it’s polished hull.
We began to assess the process as a team and gathered to spitball ideas. As our foreman talked, I spied another of my coworkers who I’ll call ‘Tony’ just staring at the stainless-steel door. He seemed almost transfixed with it, his eyes wide open ands clenched into tight fists at his side.
We definitely had our work cut out for us, and after spending the rest of the afternoon determining a plan we retired for the evening. It had been almost 2 months by this point, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we were all getting rather antsy. A bad case of cabin fever had set in awhile ago, but since we weren’t allowed outside there wasn’t much to do in terms of relaxation. They had a basic galley set up with TV, billiards and other games, but you can only get by for so long on those.
Tony seemed unusually distant that night. I tried talking to him a bit, but he just basically gave me one-word responses to everything I said. I figured he was just tired and wanted to be left alone so I obliged. As the night winded down we all filed back into our bunks. I fell asleep quick that night, but I wish I hadn’t.
A blaring alarm startled me from the oblivion of sleep. I sprung up in my bed, hearing the deafening wails of the siren screech from all around. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw Jake stumbling from his bunk.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked.
“Get dressed, quick!” I could see the fear manifest in his face even under the veil of darkness. I got myself dressed as the frantic sounds of the others emerged around us.
Once we got into the hallway, we found the security guards ushering everybody towards the main entrance. Jake and I hustled past them, but as we did, I heard two of them talking.
“They went down to the chute.”
“Why the hell would they do that?”
“Keep moving, everybody out.”
In the flurry of voices and commands, I didn’t really consider the implications of what I’d heard. Jake and I got topside and found most of the rest of our crew waiting there. The remainder filed in seconds later as our foreman performed a headcount. He found all were accounted for minus two of our team members; a guy I’ll call ‘George’ and Tony.
We watched as the security team charged down towards the main building with weapons drawn. The rest of us could only wait in the lobby area as they made their way down deeper into the confines of the building.
“What the hell is going on?” One of my coworkers asked our foreman, but he just shrugged. The alarm finally ceased it’s wretched wails then, and things grew unnervingly silent. We all waited there for a good ten minutes before the sudden sounds of gunshots blared through the night.
The two guards at the door clutched their rifles tightly, staring down the corridor into the building. The skirmish continued for close to a minute before things fell silent once again. I checked my phone and realized it was just before midnight.
Finally, the sights of the other guards emerged down the hallway.
“Who is that?” One of the guards called out.
“It’s Simmons, just us don’t worry.” The two guards before us still seemed apprehensive, but seemed to relax as the others emerged in the corridor. As they made their way towards us, I saw that many of them were hobbling as if they were injured. Two guards held the shoulder of a third between them as he limped towards the lobby. Also in their group was George, but ominously absent was Tony.
The guards got stationed around the room as the injured were tended to. One of their guys had a broken ankle, but aside from that it seemed they were mostly okay with a few scrapes and bruises.
“George, what the hell happened? Where’s Tony?” It was then I noticed the forlorn and expressionless stare on George’s face. He looked completely out of it, just sitting alone and gazing into nothing.
“George!” The foreman called again, seeming to snap him out of his state.
“I… I don’t know.”
“He’s gone.” Wilson declared. Our foreman glared at him.
“What the hell do you mean ‘he’s gone’? Where did he go?”
“He went into D3.” Wilson looked more defeated than anything else, as if the act itself was already a foregone conclusion.
“We need to go get him.” Our foreman argued, but Wilson just solemnly shook his head.
“You go down there, and you’ll never come back out.” Our foreman continued to argue with him, yelling about how they’d tricked us into this contract and he’d sue them for their wrongdoings. Wilson seemed unphased by any and all threats hurled his way. The foreman continued his façade, but it was clear he- and the rest of us were terrified of going down there; as were the rest of the security guards.
Eventually things just sort of quieted down and most of the guys fell asleep there in the lobby. I felt my eyelids growing heavy too, and before long I succumbed to slumber as well. Once again, I was suddenly torn out of my sleep by a wretched cacophony, but this was much different from the last one. It was the sounds of screaming.
I awoke to see utter madness consuming the room. Some of the guys were on the ground flailing and shrieking at the top of their lungs, while others were sauntering around covering their eyes.
A sudden feeling struck me as I watched. The walls and room seemed to distort, and an agonizing pain struck directly in the center of my forehead. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.
In absolute agony I collapsed to the floor praying and begging the pain to stop. Things appeared around me, but I struggle to describe and even remember them. Horrible vestiges of things no person should ever have to see. Beasts that appeared straight from the pits of hell conspired and cackled in maddening tones as reality itself seemed to spiral into the depths of replete madness.
I don’t know how long it went on but it felt like an eternity. Mercifully, Wilson somehow managed to garner the strength to turn on the lights in the room. The visions seemed to fade and the pain finally subsided. The sounds of screaming died down to be replaced with the hushed sounds of weeping.
As I sat up, I spied Wilson standing at the door that led into the building. He’d shut it and was eyeing the crowd with a fervent disposition. Everyone was distraught, but huddled in silence awaiting an order.
As I glanced around, I saw that several of the guys had cuts on their faces and arms, most of which looked self-inflicted. They brought the medical kits out and began bandaging everyone up. No one seemed to want to discuss what the hell had just happened, and as such the uncomfortable silence lingered all the way until the sun rose.
That was the end of the contract. When the sun finally rose, we all packed our belongings and got the hell out of there. The security team went down to investigate where Tony had been but found no trace of him anywhere. They said they’d be in contact with the police to investigate, but I had my doubts about that.
It may sound callous, but by that point I was so exhausted and shaken from the experience that all I could think about was getting as far away from that place as possible. In under an hour, we were loaded back into the van and driven back out to the airstrip. The plane arrived later that evening, and I’ve never been so relieved in all my life.
We were compensated for our work and even given a percentage of the total contract plus an additional bonus. It seemed like hush money to me, but I was more than happy to take it considering the circumstances. Despite the huge payday, our company somehow managed to fall on tough financial times only a few months later. It shut down soon after and I was forced to move on.
I pretty much fell out of contact with all my coworkers from that company, but one day a few years later I randomly ran into George at a grocery store. He was thin and emaciated, with discolored cheeks and a frail demeanor. Even the way he spoke seemed weaker than before. He was significantly older than me, but I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast from the last time I’d known him.
We chatted briefly, and eventually decided to go grab dinner together. The memories came flooding back to me as the two of us spoke, and I decided I had to ask him about what happened that night.
“It still doesn’t make sense to me.” George began, swishing his drink in his mug nervously.
He then proceeded to explain how he had seen Tony leaving his room that night, and decided to follow him. Tony went directly down to the bottom floor as George pursued at a distance. Once he entered D floor, he found the door to D3 already open, and he knew Tony had gone inside.
He said that everything in him was screaming not to go in there, but he couldn’t abandon Tony. He stepped through the door, and came face to face with another stairwell; a separate one which seemed to lead even lower into the building. George didn’t know how it was possible, but as he glanced over the railing, he saw innumerable stairways down below.
He said he could only glance for a couple seconds before the fear overwhelmed him so much that he had to backtrack. He felt his chest growing tight, and throat clamming up as a potent sense of impending doom consumed him. Next thing he knew, the security team emerged as well and ordered him back. They asked where Tony had gone, and he just pointed towards the stairwell. He doesn’t remember anything that happened after that.
I wish he was able to provide more, but I didn’t want to push him as the event was clearly traumatic for him. I’d be lying if I said I myself had escaped unscathed. I’ve suffered nightmares and night terrors ever since, not every night but common enough to make things very difficult. I’ve tried seeing therapists and psychologists and been prescribed countless medications, but none have really helped much.
George passed away a few months after our reunion, and the news struck me hard. I could never forget that haunted look of despair in his face when I’d last seen him. It was like all semblance of hope had drained from him forever.
Shortly after that news, I found something even worse. I looked up multiple of my former coworkers. Our foreman, Jake, Donny and three others who I regularly corresponded with back in the day. All of them are now dead. I know at least a few committed suicide; but I’m not sure about George or all the others. As far as I can tell, everyone who was there for that project is now dead; except for me.
That doesn’t bode well for me obviously, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. None of this makes any sense, and I don’t even know where I can go for answers. Maybe I’m reading way too much into it, and all of this is just a morbid but random coincidence, but it doesn’t feel that way.
That place felt evil, and unwelcoming in a way that nothing else ever has. Something was very wrong, and whatever that something is it is still out there. I don’t know where I go from here, but I’m going to keep searching. I hope I’m just over-reacting, but I guess only time will tell.
This is my last attempt to get some answers. I feel like I’m cursed by the experience, and I figure if my days are numbered then I might as well tell the world why. If anyone has any theories, I’d welcome them no matter how outlandish they may seem. I guess if nothing else, this experience has gone to teach me that if something seems too good to be true, then it is.