coup d'espirit

location: ROLLING HILLS ASYLUM, east bethany, NY

 

     this place is downright terrifying. everything about it: the peeling paint, the ghoulish furniture and decorations, the long dark corridors where clouds of anguished dust linger in the sparse shafts of sunlight which themselves barely resonate through the murky windows... And thats not even the basement. Oh, the basement!

  

    

    originally named the Genesee County Poorhouse when it was established in 1827, the institution began as a working farm where the most able-bodied of the inmates (of which included everyone from orphans to the enfeebled to the mentally unstable and even criminals) would work the farm to offset the cost of their care. these government-run poor farms were commonplace in the 19th and early 20th centuries. basically, homeless families, unwanted children and the burdensome elderly were shipped to these poor farms to live out their lives, forgotten by the world at large, and forced to work for their boarding alongside lunatics and the “morally corrupt.” furthermore, after their (undoubtedly grateful) demise, many were dumped into unmarked mass graves behind the main facility. anyone who thinks Social Security is government hand-out program should take a serious look at what the prior alternative was. (I highly recommend reading the full history on the RHA official site). the grounds have been abandoned since the doors closed in 1974 until recently, when the property was bought by Sharon and Jerry Coles. as Sharon told me: “This place has way too much (paranormal) activity going on... I had to buy it.” 

this is where I spent a week of my life.

    

    on the first day, everyone on the crew knew that something was off. the sky hung heavy over the building. the trees had no leaves and untamed fingers of ivy choked the cracked brick facade. within the walls, the air was stale and any natural light fell in dim pools on the hospital floor - only to quickly decay into shadows leading to the absolute darkness of each endless hallway.  for some unspoken reason, most people chose to work in groups of two as they prepped for the shoot: placing night-vision cameras, microphones and IR lights throughout the buildings’ labyrinth of wings and floors. 

    

    everyone’s experience here was unique. mine consisted of an overall sense of unease, the genesis of which was unnamable, but was heightened by the bizarre arrangement of furniture sporadically settled in various rooms - their casual manner leaving a sinister shadow on my being. Some rooms felt as if their occupants had simply vanished, leaving their possessions behind. Whereas others held the c

illing air of imminent return -  their hosts having never truly left.

     I find an odd pleasure in the eeriness of the unknown. i want to be afraid, to be insecure and out of control - my senses on high alert. so, in this place, my experience was relatively harmless. the same cannot not be said for others...  

    there was one encounter in which a video engineer and a production assistant were walking in a basement corridor - a long windowless tunnel where the only light comes from what you carry - when they were confronted by a grimy old plastic lunch tray hurtling towards them from the depths of a darkened kitchen. The tray, narrowly missing them, landed on the center of the floor and spun in circles. After a thorough search of the kitchen revealed no obvious source for the projectile nor prankster giggling behind a door, the PA kicked the tray back into the empty room - only to have it immediately come sliding back towards them from the furthest reaches of the all-consuming dark. Understandably, they ran.

    

    also in the basement was the morgue. at one time a bakery, it’s enormous freezers were soon put to use as storage for the deceased. and, even though the freezers have been inactive for decades, there is an undeniable temperature change the moment one dares to cross the threshold. in here, the darkness was so oppressive it swallowed all light attempting to illuminate its grotesque history.

  

    there have been countless reports of paranormal activity in RHA, many backed by some form of “evidence.” there are even consistently recurring events, day and night, that are attributed to a number of ex-residents of the asylum. near the end of the shoot, i overheard the owner, Sharon, asking an apparently very active spirit named “Roy” if he was responsible for the incident in the basement kitchen. the answer, according to Sharon, was inconclusive. 

 

  without hesitation, we packed up the gear and left Rolling Hills Asylum (and Roy) behind - heading on to our next stop: a prison in ohio with a notoriously evil reputation.