The Phantom Theater

Most of our later adventures were done by flashlight in the deserted halls of the Main Ward. But one night of exploration led to our discovery of an open door in another building: The infamous Phantom Theater. In the mid 60’s it was abandoned as a ward of the hospital, and nearly 20 years later it began to be rented out as a haunted house during the month of October. It was a structure clearly older than any other on the grounds; beautifully aged red brick struck up from the uncut grass in a semi-Victorian style (to match the 1890 structure that it originally flanked), peaked by a cupola in the middle of the roof. By this time, the roof was in terrible disrepair and the cupola was rapidly disintegrating, but the charm of the old building still remained. I had been fascinated for years by its mysterious reputation and fading elegance, but our previous attempts to find an unblocked entrance had brought us nothing but frustration. This night, however, we were determined, and so we set off with flashlights dimmed and footsteps guarded to get into the Phantom.

We searched every door, tried every lock, and on our last circuit of the building someone discovered a board that was not only loose, but rather conveniently hinged by broken nails. We shoved it open with little trouble and found behind it a door, topped with tiny panes of glass (filthy with age, of course, and painted black from the haunted house years.) There was a brief moment of manic expectation when Jon’s hand closed around the doorknob, everyone craning nervously to watch and see if it would turn. It did. The door swung open. Our adventure in the Old Men’s Ward had begun.

We were not faced with an open, yellow-tiled hallway, as we had come to expect from the Main Ward. Instead, we found ourselves at the foot of a massive pile of things: old desks, carts, a crushed wheelchair, chains, chairs, anything and everything one could imagine. We turned the flashlights inward and peered at the mess, trying to find a way through.

At one point in time, the space had been a short stairwell that led to the main first-floor corridor of the ward. Immediately to the right of the door was another door, open and yawning darkly to a short concrete slab and a sudden drop-off. This way was unblocked by the mess, so Jon volunteered to explore it. We huddled nervously together in the still-open doorway to the outside, our flashlights darkened and our breathing shaky. The glow from his flashlight dimmed and faded as he disappeared down the corridor, but it wasn’t long before he reappeared.

“Nothing. It’s an air duct, or something, but it’s completely blocked.” [Note: I don’t believe this corridor was actually an air duct. There are basement windows visible from the outside; I believe it is simply a structurally defunct hallway that at one point led there.]

He rejoined the party, and we formed a brief huddle to decide on a plan. We wanted to continue into the building, not phased by the pile of rubble before us, but the worry was that moving anything from the mess would be loud enough to alert security. Jon, ever the explorer, decided to try out the blockade and see if a route could be taken to get through it.

We heard him laugh after a moment. “It’s not blocked at all once you climb. There’s a doorway to the hall, it’s open.”

Rather hesitantly, the door to the outside was closed behind us and the board pulled back into place. One by one we climbed through the wreckage, onto an old table and hopping over a chain that was strung from wall to wall, and after a few loud, careful moments everyone was standing in the middle of the sinister, black-painted hallway.