Do you believe in spirits? Do you believe in ghosts?
I do. Why? Because I’ve seen a few in my life time. Well, not with my own eyes but hear me out!
A few years ago, my brother and his friends decided to do the one thing that you urge scary movie characters not do to. They decided to break into an abandoned hospice and see if they could uncover any of its mysterious secrets. For those of you who don’t know, a hospice is a home that provides care for the sick, especially the terminally ill. In some cases, they can even provide a home for the mentally ill. The hospice my brother planned on visiting was one located just 15 minutes from our home. It was originally a healthcare center, but was eventually repurposed into an old-age home. Back in 2003, the residents were moved to repurpose the building again and turn it into an emergency centre during the SARS outbreak. It never actually served its purpose as an emergency building and was simply abandoned.
Back to my brother, he ventured with his group of friends into the hospice to check it out. Carrying nothing but flashlights and their phones, they got wonderful footage of the inside of the hospice. He got views of the rooms, the graffitied walls, the destroyed architecture, and his friends engaging in teenage shenanigans.
When he got home, he showed me the footage. The interior walls of the building were all graffitied with all kinds of phrases and illustrations. With Schizophrenia, you’re never alone. The rooms were pretty much a big mess. Beds were randomly placed throughout the rooms, chairs and tables were destroyed and their remains were scattered across the floor, bathroom curtains were ripped to shreds, even some of the inside walls were falling apart. Honestly, it was your typical archetype of an abandoned building.
The last piece of footage I looked at was one of my brother walking down a long hall. He made his way from one end of the hall to another with one of his friends. He made it to the end, turned around and walked all the way back. Normal enough right? I recognized by brothers friend, Austen, when the camera rotated as my brother turned around. Behind Austen was a girl that I had not recognized. She wore a gown as white as snow that reached from her shoulders to her ankles. Her hair was black as night, pin straight but messy, like she’d been to the beach. But the most distinctive feature was her eyes. Her eyes were what gave away that something wasn’t quite right. Her eyes, a burnt shade of yellow, were bright as the sun. This girl sat there at the bottom of the stairs, she was waiting. One arm was crossed over her legs, the other was placed on her knee, with her hand on her chin like she were holding up her head. I asked my brother who the girl was, as I said, I didn’t recognize her. My brother had but one response.
We didn’t go with a girl.