Places don't forget what they once were.You can build and build and rebuild as much as you like but at the end of the day, the place knows what it is better than we could ever hope to. People come and go and sure they may even leave a memory or two lingering behind but people are always temporary.
Today we look at a place that is currently an office with a mild scattering of oddities...
There's a woman who walks down the stairs, whispering for Johnny to go back to the dorms. Sometimes you can talk to her - her name in life was Martha and she'll ask if you've seen her Johnny and you won't have. Nobody has.
She was there when the building was a home for unwed mothers back in the 60's and this place remembers that.
There's the faint sound of a song that took years to identify as Triofno di Bacco which can be heard only when the maintenance room door is closed and the light is turned off. The singers seem to be just behind you and don't respond to conversation like Martha does.
The song itself comes from the late 1400's when there was a church here and this place remembers that.
There's one presence that nobody can identify as anything more than the feeling of something large and starving waiting just around the corner near on the uppermost floor. It's a level best suited to whoever isn't as sensitive to the oddities of the place but even then they sometimes feel its breath.
We think it was there first, back when whatever keeps these beings here realised that it could.
Today we look at a place that is currently an office with a mild scattering of oddities...
There's a woman who walks down the stairs, whispering for Johnny to go back to the dorms. Sometimes you can talk to her - her name in life was Martha and she'll ask if you've seen her Johnny and you won't have. Nobody has.
She was there when the building was a home for unwed mothers back in the 60's and this place remembers that.
There's the faint sound of a song that took years to identify as Triofno di Bacco which can be heard only when the maintenance room door is closed and the light is turned off. The singers seem to be just behind you and don't respond to conversation like Martha does.
The song itself comes from the late 1400's when there was a church here and this place remembers that.
There's one presence that nobody can identify as anything more than the feeling of something large and starving waiting just around the corner near on the uppermost floor. It's a level best suited to whoever isn't as sensitive to the oddities of the place but even then they sometimes feel its breath.
We think it was there first, back when whatever keeps these beings here realised that it could.
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