📸 Discover the Haunting Beauty: A Photographer's Expedition into the Abandoned Insane Asylum! 🏚️
Exploring abandoned places has always been a fascination for photographers seeking to capture the eerie beauty of forgotten spaces frozen in time. Recently, I talked my Husband into embarking on a haunting adventure to an abandoned “insane asylum”, a place shrouded in mystery and whispers of the past. Little did I know, my journey would take a chilling turn as I ascended through the decaying floors of this once bustling institution.
Eloise, a psychiatric hospital in Westland, MI was built in 1839 and was once a full self-sufficient city complete with a bakery, farm, and even its own railroad. Initially built for people in poverty Eloise became over crowded during the Great Depression, homing over 9,000 people. Today, over 7,100 people are buried at Eloise… their graves marked by only numbers. This blog post isn’t a history lesson… look it up for yourself, but the documented stories include that of death during hydrotherapy, murder, suicides, lobotomies… so trigger warning, be careful.
Entering through the creaking doors of the asylum, the first floor seemed surprisingly ordinary. Set up as a haunted house and escape room, it seemed…tacky. Don’t get me wrong, the building and architecture was beautiful, but the décor was cheesy at best. My emotions were eager, excited, a little nervous, almost like entering the theatre for a scary movie when the lights dim and you know you’re in for an adrenaline rush. The tour included access to 4 floors, the second, third, fourth and fifth. My goal was to make it to the fifth floor, the maximum-security men’s floor for the criminally insane. Each floor our guide showed us around and explained what each room was, a little history and shared her experiences for around 15-20 minutes. We then had 40 minutes to explore the floor on our own.
As we made our way to the second floor the air was stale, and the dust particles floated like ethereal spirits caught in a perpetual dance. My camera clicked away as I documented the peeling paint and dilapidated furniture that told tales of a bygone era. It felt like any other abandoned building, and the silence was almost comforting. I felt no fear for the most part. We explored room by room, which for the most part was administrative at one point in time. Modern-ish statements stood out but made sense as I knew the recent history of Eloise was that it was used for offices and Government programs in the 1990’s.
At one point my camera flash stopped working and I sat down in a black room in the middle of the floor to figure it out. The group went on exploring. I felt no fear, I felt no presence, I was simply focused on figuring out my camera issue as capturing Eloise was my main goal of my visit. I fixed the camera flash and moved on with the rest of the tour- catching up with the group. I was excited to see what there was to see, but that was my only emotion at the time.
As I ascended to the third floor, the ambiance began to change. The air grew heavier, laden with a sense of melancholy that sent shivers down my spine. The once-muted sunlight filtering through cracked windows became scarce, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally. The creaking floorboards beneath my feet echoed through the empty hallways like distant whispers. I couldn’t breathe and although throughout my 5 hours in the building it was cold, the third floor was the only floor where I could see my breath. It was significantly colder than any other floor.
The third floor was the women’s and children’s unit, marked with tiny toilets and sinks, an abortion room they disgustingly called “the beauty salon” the deep sense of sadness that was eating at me. As we entered the surgery room, I told my husband I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of the room. Like, we were on the top of a mountain where the air is thin. He felt it too. There aren’t any words to explain the exact way I felt.
While exploring a small group of women who was a part of our larger group of 12 entered the portion of the third floor that used to serve as the Doctors living quarters. They had a “spirit box” which was something new to me. I have learned a lot about them through research after this experience and if you are curious, suggest doing the same. As the group of ladies set the box in the Doctors former bedroom, they began to ask it questions, trying to communicate with the spirit world.
The box beeped for some questions and not for others, the women interpreting a beep to mean yes and no response to mean a no. I listened for about 5 minutes or so but was unconvinced. To me, this was a beeping box and the timing of the beeps held no water with me. I softly elbowed my Husband, who I could see had the same skepticism I did and motioned to the hallway to continue exploring and photographing on our own. I was done with the box… until…
Right as we turned to leave, still in eye site and earshot of the women and the box we heard the women ask “were you a doctor here? Or maybe an inmate or nurse?” The box then answered… clear as day… “inmate” in a man’s voice. My husband and I looked at each other... “what the fuck” he mouthed to me... and I had no words. I have thought about this moment for days, I have told friends about it and they offered alternatives such as recordings, etc. I can’t explain to you the feeling, all I can tell you is I wouldn’t believe me either if I didn’t experience it myself. Luckily, I had my Husband there, to experience this with me, I didn’t make this up in my mind.
The third-floor eeriness was hard to force myself to stay in…once I experienced the Hydrotherapy room, we had to take a break. Eloise has a documented case where an 11-year-old little girl died in the Hydrotherapy tub. She suffered a seizure in the tub and the nurses didn’t get to her in time. She drowned. Hubby and I were in the room, hearing this story from the guide and as soon as she said the little girl’s name, the pipes gurgled, sounding like water was running through them. Exposed pipes, that haven’t worked in decades, that are cut, with no water running to them. I needed a break. On our way to our break we passed a dentist chair, where it was explained to us that “biters” were strapped down, and their teeth forcibly removed.
Once we took our break outside, got some fresh air and reentered the building to the fourth floor, I felt significantly better. We climbed our way to the fourth floor and unlike the third, the air was returned to normal, I could breathe again. The heaviness that plagued me before, lifted. Exploring was dark, ominous, you could tell you were in a place with a history but I didn’t feel like I had before, I felt safe again, until…
We were looking for our group. Eloise is HUGE and dark. The only light you have is the little bit peering in from the spot lights outside through a perfectly placed window and the flashlight you came with. The floor was silent but everyone is purposefully quiet to be respectful or both the living and the non-living. As we walked down the hallway our flashlights would light up the doors to the left and right of us 3 or 4 doors down before the light was swallowed by the darkness.
I shined my light into the great room. A room where patients, known in Eloise history as inmates would gather. I was thankful when I saw the shadow of a tall and thin man standing in the window looking out. There was only one other man in our group beside my Husband and seeing him there meant the rest of the group was close. I turned my flashlight back to the hallway we were walking down where I could start to hear the voices and rustlings of the rest of our group walking towards us.
As I turned my light to the group. I saw him... the other guy from our group. My body froze and my mind spun inside my head. Standing in the doorway to the great room, the only door way leading to that room, I spun my light back around to the window where I swear, I just saw the man who was now standing on the other side of me. He was still there. The shadow man was still there. I watched him turn and walk into the corner, swallowed by the darkness where I could no longer see.
Whipping my light back again to the group now gathered in front of me I did a quick count. One, two, three, four… twelve. All twelve of us were standing right here. So, who was in that room? For the last time I brought my light to the great room, searching for my shadow man. No one was in the room. I was standing in the only door way in or out. No one had walked past me. My heart was in my throat. I held onto my husband’s arm for dear life. I was shaken to my core. I didn’t speak. I didn’t tell a soul. I searched my heart and my mind, my soul, for an explanation but there was none.
Once we left that spot, my senses heightened I was able to tell my Husband and our guide what I saw. She explained to me that this tall, thin, shadow man is often seen on the fourth floor. His name is supposedly Omar. The ghost of a man brought in for an ear ache and later found chained to his bed and beaten to death. She believed I was lucky to have seen such a thing. I did not feel lucky. I felt traumatized. I can deal with banging pipes, thick air, coldness that chills you to your bone. Seeing the unexplained, no. Put a fork in me, I’m done.
The whole goal of my visit was to see the fifth floor. I hung to my husband like a child but pushed myself to climb the stairs to our final floor. Terrified to see anything and staring at the floor as we walked, letting my Husband guide me. The transition from the fourth to the fifth floor marked a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The darkness became almost tangible, swallowing every trace of daylight. As a photographer, I am accustomed to navigating low-light situations, but nothing could prepare me for the oppressive blackness that enveloped the asylum's upper floor.
The silence on the fifth floor was deafening. It wasn't just the absence of sound; it felt like the walls themselves held their breath, concealing the secrets of the asylum's troubled history. The air was thick with an unspoken sorrow, and every step I took seemed to disturb the echoes of the past. The once-vibrant colors of the asylum's interior had faded into a monochromatic palette of decay, rendering the space otherworldly and surreal.
As I ventured deeper into the asylum's labyrinthine corridors, a sense of foreboding hung in the air. Shadows seemed to materialize into spectral figures, and the remnants of forgotten lives whispered untold stories. Two women from separate groups stopped in their tracks yelling “hello” down the hallway. We all looked at them, they had both seen the same thing. A shadow figure crossing the hall from one room to the next. It was on the fifth floor that I felt an inexplicable chill, a presence that left me questioning the boundary between reality and the supernatural. The criminally insane were tortured here in the name of therapy. Chained to showers and hosed. There were no doctors and nurses’ quarters on the floor. Only locked doors that were once buzzed through like a prison. Solitary confinement rooms where you could feel the history of people losing touch with reality.
After our 15-minute guided tour of the floor it was like time explore on our own, before then having an hour and half to walk the floors alone and openly roam. We couldn’t do it. My Husband and I left. The second my feet hit the outside world, I felt relieved. People asked me if I slept that night. I did. As soon as I left Eloise in Westland, I was okay again. My home doesn’t feel like that, the outside world doesn’t feel like that. Only Eloise. I have never felt anything like I did in that building. That place, that building, holds so much sorrow and anger.
Exploring an abandoned insane asylum was a journey that transcended the visual realm. Beyond the lens, I felt the weight of history, the echoes of tortured souls, and the unsettling stillness of a place that time forgot. While the first and second floors seemed to hold the echoes of the past, it was on the third floor that I confronted the palpable darkness that clung to the walls like a lingering ghost. As a photographer, I captured more than just images; I captured the essence of a place where the line between the living and the dead blurred, leaving an indelible mark on my soul. If I ever doubted before, I don’t anymore.
I wouldn’t believe me either. I’d doubt too. Try and explain it all away. My friends that I have told, have tried. It is not worth the argument to me. My Husband and I were there, we know what we experienced. My heart was saddened for the souls stuck in Eloise. My heart takes comfort that I was able to leave, with no plan on going back.
