Haunted Places

Some places don’t just hold history…
 they remember it.

In this episode of Echoes in the Dark, John Keaser Jr. explores the unsettling idea that certain buildings seem to carry the weight of everything that happened inside them.

From abandoned asylums to haunted hotels, some locations leave visitors with the feeling that something unseen may still linger.

Tonight’s episode includes:

👻 Three chilling listener-submitted stories from across America
🏚️ Real world hauntings including the infamous Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, the Villisca Axe Murder House, and the legendary Stanley Hotel
🎙️ Macabre Bob’s darkly inappropriate commentary and horror banter
🎬 A countdown of six haunted location horror films, including The Shining, Hell House LLC, Session 9, and more

These stories explore the strange connection between places, tragedy, and memory.

Because sometimes…

the walls remember.

📖 Hopewell Hollow is out now!
If you enjoy slow-burn folk horror, generational curses, and small towns with very dark secrets, grab your copy wherever books are sold.

🛍️ Visit The Hollow Shop at DarkHollowMediaLLC.com
Echoes in the Dark merch including tees, hoodies, and mugs available now.

🎧 Follow Echoes in the Dark on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen.

And if you’ve experienced something strange…

Submit your story.

It might be featured in a future episode.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Some stories arrive like a whisper, not loud, not violent, just a quiet memory someone can't quite explain, a light that turns on by itself, a voice in an empty room, footsteps in a hallway where no one should be walking, and most of the time people try to ignore those moments. They explain them away, blame the wind, blame the house, blame their imagination. But every once in a while, someone decides to tell the story instead. And that's when things get interesting, because the most unsettling stories aren't the ones written in books. They're the ones that happen to someone just like you. Tonight we're stepping into some of those stories.

SPEAKER_06 1:10

Do you hear? All flood creeks name on a law. Housekeep secrets and it wants you to fall.

SPEAKER_07 1:40

I surprise you. You can't turn away.

SPEAKER_06 1:50

If you came for a story, you might leave with a name. Hold on your chest. You press play now, you share their fate.

SPEAKER_04 2:43

I don't sleep well, so neither should you. And this is Echoes in the Dark, original stories, true hauntings, and horror genre explored. Before we step into tonight's episode, I want to take a quick moment to share something with you. My novel, Hopewell Hollow, is officially out now and available wherever books are sold. For those of you who have been listening to the show for a while, you know that the story has been a part of this podcast from the very beginning, chapter by chapter, piece by piece, and seeing it finally out in the world as a full novel has been an incredible experience. So if you enjoyed the atmosphere and slow burn horror we explore here on Echoes in the Dark, you can now step fully into that world through Hope Will Hollow. The link is in the episode description if you'd like to check it out. Now, with the novel out there, the show itself is entering a new chapter. The format will stay the same. But the original stories featured on the podcast will now come directly from you, the listeners, your experiences, your strange encounters, the stories that stayed with you long after they happened. And tonight we're starting with exactly that. Tonight I have three special stories to tell. Three moments that someone, somewhere, still can't quite explain. So turn the lights down, get comfortable, and let's begin with the first one.

SPEAKER_06 4:32

Old house, but the air feels cold. Footsteps pacing where the floorboards broke, but you're the only name on the lease. Looking over your shoulder. Picture frames tilt when you're facing the scene. Voice in the vent keeps saying your name. But I can't stall at the side of the fridge. You blink the jump at the time of the chain. Welcome to original story.

SPEAKER_09 4:54

Where the dark eats on the recipes.

SPEAKER_06 4:57

Every whisper, everyone. Every chick is for your pity. But the rest is find you. Original story. Watch your end. They remember you too. Screen glow at 313. New voicemail from a number that's gone. Your own voice talking from a week ahead. Describing the sound from inside your walls. Car keys move from the hook to the floor. Dog won't cross that one locked door. You press your ear to the grain, you're scratching and laughing.

SPEAKER_09 5:39

Welcome to original stories.

SPEAKER_06 5:45

Every whisper, every new. Every chicken is you a meant too. What's your they remember you too? Stay seated.

SPEAKER_09 6:07

If you feel pressed on your dead.

SPEAKER_06 6:10

You want to believe it.

SPEAKER_09 6:13

Original stories.

SPEAKER_06 6:15

We just pressed with God.

SPEAKER_09 6:17

They're the ones that never led waiting behind your door.

SPEAKER_10 6:57

It's time for the story.

SPEAKER_04 7:14

Story number one, The Motion Light, submitted by Rachel from Columbus, Ohio. Right in my neck of the woods. Columbus is about 30 minutes west of where I live. Let's get in it. This happened about three years ago when I was living alone in a small house just outside Columbus. The place was older, probably built sometime in the 1940s. Nothing fancy. Just a little two-bedroom house with a long gravel driveway and a detached garage behind it. One thing the previous owner had installed was a motion light above the back door. At first I liked it. It made me feel safer knowing that if anything moved near the house at night, the light would flip on. For the first few months, it worked exactly like it should. Then, one night I woke up around 2 30 in the morning and noticed something strange. The motion light was on. My bedroom window faced the backyard, and the light shining through the blinds was bright enough to wake me up. At first, I assumed it was a raccoon or a stray cat. The neighborhood had plenty of 'em. But the light stayed on. And stayed on. Usually it would shut off after 30 seconds or so. This time, it didn't. So I got up, pulled the curtain aside just enough to look out into the yard and saw nothing. No animal. No person. Just an empty backyard lit up like a stage. I went back to bed and eventually fell asleep. But the next night, it happened again, same time, around 2 30. The light flicked on. And this time I watched it. 30 seconds passed. Then a minute. Then two. And it still didn't shut off. I remember feeling this weird pressure in my chest. Like the light wasn't triggered by something moving. But by something standing still. Eventually, it turned off. And the yard went completely dark again. The next morning I checked the motion sensor. There were muddy footprints in the grass beneath it, bare footprints. But they didn't lead toward the house. They led away from it. And they stopped. Right in the middle of the yard. Like whoever made them simply vanished. I moved out two months later, and I never told the next tenants why. Reflection. You know, motion lights are supposed to make you feel safe. That's the whole point of them. Something moves, light turns on. Problem solved. Except in this case, the problem seems to be that something was standing there long enough for the light to stay on. And I don't know about you, but if I look out my window at 2.30 in the morning and see my motion light trigger with absolutely nothing in the yard, I'm not going out to investigate. I'm not grabbing a flashlight. And I'm not doing any of that heroic horror movie nonsense. I'm rolling over, pulling the blanket over my head and pretending that light belongs to someone else's house. Because the moment you walk outside and start saying things like, hello, is someone there? Then that's when the movie starts. And based on those footprints Rachel found the next morning, something definitely visited that yard. The real question is, what triggered the light if it wasn't moving? Story number two, the voice on the baby monitor cemented by Mark from Knoxville, Tennessee when my baby was born. My wife and I bought one of those video baby monitors so we could keep an ironer from the living room. It had a little camera mounted above the crib and a screen that sat on the coffee table. For the first few months, everything was fine. But one night, when my daughter was about six months old, my wife woke me up around 3 a.m. She said she heard something from the baby monitor. At first, I thought she meant the baby crying, but she said no. It sounded like someone talking. So we turned the monitor volume up. The room was quiet. Then suddenly, a voice very faint. It sounded like a man whispering. The voice wasn't coming from inside the nursery. It was coming through the speaker of the monitor itself. Then the voice said something clearly Don't worry, she's still sleeping. We ran to the nursery. Our daughter was asleep in her crib. The room was empty. But the monitor in my hand crackled again, and the same voice whispered, I'm right here. I unplugged the whole system that night. We never used it again. Reflection. Baby monitors are one of those inventions that are incredibly useful and also deeply unsettling if you think about them for far too long. Because what they really are is a tiny surveillance camera pointed at your sleeping child. And normally the only people watching that camera are the parents. But every once in a while, you hear stories like this: a strange voice, someone speaking through the device, someone who clearly shouldn't have access to it. And I'll tell you right now, if I'm sitting in my living room at three in the morning and a voice comes through my baby monitor saying, Don't worry, she's still sleeping, that monitor is going straight into the trash, dude. Actually, no, not even the trash. I'm taking the thing outside and bearing it like a cursed object because the idea someone else might be watching, or worse, talking through it, is enough to make anyone rethink their entire home security setup. Final story of the night, the last bus stop, submitted by Darren from Flagstaff, Arizona. I used to work late nights at a warehouse in Flagstaff. Because of my hours, I had to take the last city bus home most nights. There was only one stop near my apartment, and it sat on the edge of a quiet road surrounded by pine trees. One winter night, I got off work around midnight and took the bus like usual. When we reached my stop, I noticed someone sitting on the bench. An old woman in a long gray coat. The bus driver opened the door and I stepped off. As soon as I turned around to say thanks, the bus driver looked confused. He asked me, Who were you talking to? I said I wasn't talking to anyone. He pointed past me. Then who's that? I turned back toward the bench. The woman was gone. Just gone. The bus pulled away. I stood there trying to convince myself she must have walked off while my back was turned. But the snow around the bench was untouched. Except for one set of footprints, mine. It wasn't until later that night that I realized something. The woman had been sitting exactly where I needed to stand to catch the bus. Almost like she had been waiting there first. Reflection. There's something about empty bus stops at night that already feel creepy. Maybe it's the quiet. I don't know. Maybe it's the streets. Or maybe it's the fact that public transit after midnight has a very specific energy to it. But Darren's story adds another layer to that feeling. Seeing someone sitting at a bus stop late at night isn't weird. Seeing them disappear the moment you turned around, that's fucking weird. And the part that really sticks with me is the bus driver asking, Who were you talking to? Because that means the driver saw her too, which rules out imagination. And when Darren looked back at the bench, no footprints, just his, which means either that woman was incredibly good at teleporting, or she was never waiting for the bus at all. Maybe she was just waiting. That's fucking creepy, dude. You know, after hearing stories like that, I'm reminded of something important. Most people think the world is normal, predictable, safe. But every once in a while something happens that reminds you the universe is a little off. A motion light turns on when nothing's there. A voice comes to a baby monitor that definitely shouldn't have a voice. Or someone sitting at a bus stop who apparently forgot to leave footprints. And then things start to get strange. And when things start getting that strange, there's really only one person I trust to help me make the situation worse. So naturally, it's time to bring on macabre Bob.

unknown 15:50

Woo.

SPEAKER_01 15:57

John, I've listened to those stories, and I've reached a very scientific conclusion. Human beings have terrible survival instincts.

SPEAKER_04 16:07

That's a bold claim.

SPEAKER_01 16:09

Is it though? Think about it. You wake up at two in the morning. Your motion light is on. Nothing is outside. What should you do? Ignore it. Go back to bed. Pretend the universe is functioning normally. What do people actually do? They grab a flashlight and walk outside.

SPEAKER_04 16:32

Yeah. And that's what horror movies have taught us. That's a bad mood, dude.

SPEAKER_01 16:37

Exactly. And it's not just movies. History is full of people who heard a strange noise and thought, let me investigate that. And that's usually the moment when things go from mildly unsettling to featured on a documentary later. And the thing about haunted locations is they almost always start the same way. Somebody builds a building, then a bunch of terrible things happen there. Then a few hundred people die. And eventually someone says, You know what this place needs? A tour group. You're not wrong. It's true. Humanity has an amazing ability to take horrifying historical tragedies and turn them into gift shops. Welcome to the haunted asylum. Be sure to grab a t-shirt on the way out. Jokes aside, places like that tend to hold on to stories. And sometimes those stories don't stay in the past. Because there are locations across the country where visitors still report hearing voices, seeing shadows move through empty rooms, or feeling like someone is standing right behind them, even when they're completely alone. And tonight, we're going to take a look at some of those places. A location with a long history, a lot of strange reports, and more than a few people who say that when they left, something followed them out. Welcome to tonight's true hauntings.

SPEAKER_06 18:40

Old floor boys. Cold breath on the back of your neck, use everyone. But you wish you never checked. Is that true? On internet I would let the curse play. Every shadow got a story, every rumor got a great creepy places all the legends, all the secrets that they get. You can't escape no you listen.

SPEAKER_02 20:08

Every legend has a birthplace. Every ghost, a story that was once alive. Let's go there.

SPEAKER_01 20:20

Haunting number one, Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. Western West Virginia. Construction of the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum began in 1858, and the facility opened to patients in 1864 during the American Civil War. The massive Gothic structure was designed to house roughly 250 patients. But by the 1950s, the population had exploded to more than 2,400 people. Patients were packed into overcrowded wards, hallways, and storage rooms. Many patients died inside the facility due to illness, neglect, or experimental treatments that were poorly understood at the time. The hospital finally closed in 1994. But what happened after its closure is what made the building famous again. Security guards working overnight shifts reported hearing footsteps in empty corridors. Visitors touring the building claimed doors closed on their own. Paranormal investigators have captured recordings of unexplained voices on audio equipment. One of the most frequently reported entities. Is said to be a young girl named Lily. Visitors claim to hear a child's laughter in one of the patient wards. Others report seeing small shadows moving quickly down hallways before disappearing. Whether paranormal or psychological, the building has gained a reputation as one of the most haunted locations in America. Today, the asylum operates as a historical site and offers overnight paranormal investigations. And many visitors leave believing the building is far from empty. Haunting number two, the Velisca Axe Murder House. Velisca, Iowa. On the night of June 9th, 1912, one of the most disturbing unsolved crimes in American history took place in the small town of Vallisca, Iowa. Inside a modest white house lived the Moore family, Josiah Moore, Sarah Moore, their four children. That night, two young friends of the Moore children were also staying over. Sometime after midnight, an unknown attacker entered the home. Using an axe found inside the house, the killer murdered all eight people while they slept. The victims ranged in age from five to forty-three years old. What made the crime even more disturbing was the strange behavior of the killer afterward. Mirrors were covered, doors were locked from the inside, and the murder weapon was cleaned and placed back inside the house. Despite multiple suspects and investigations, the case was never solved. Over time, the house became infamous, not just for the crime, but for the experiences reported by visitors. People staying overnight claim to hear children's footsteps running through the halls. Visitors report doors slamming without explanation. Objects have been documented moving on their own during overnight investigations. Some guests claim to hear voices whispering from empty rooms. The Velisca Axe Murder House remains one of the most visited haunted locations in the United States. Haunting number three. The Stanley Hotel Estes Park at Colorado High in the mountains of Colorado sits at the historic Stanley Hotel. The hotel opened in 1909 and quickly became a luxury destination for wealthy travelers seeking clean mountain air. But over the years, staff and guests began reporting unusual experiences. Footsteps echoing through empty hallways, piano music playing in the ballroom late at night when no one was present. Guests claiming they felt watched while walking through the corridors. One of the most famous guests of the Stanley Hotel was author Stephen King. In 1974, King stayed in room 217 with his wife during the hotel's off season. They were among the only guests in the entire building. King later described the hotel as feeling eerily empty and isolated. That night, he reportedly had a nightmare about his young son being chased through the hotel's corridors by a fire hose that had come to life. That dream became the inspiration for his novel, The Shining. Even today, guests staying in the hotel report strange occurrences. Lights turning on by themselves, children's laughter in the hallways, and the sound of footsteps in rooms that are supposed to be empty. The Stanley Hotel continues to operate today and is widely considered one of the most haunted hotels in America.

SPEAKER_04 26:16

And maybe that's what makes haunted locations so fascinating. Because these places aren't just ghost stories, they're real locations where real things happened. And when enough tragedy, suffering, or violence occurs in one place, people begin to wonder if something remains behind. Maybe it's memory, maybe it's atmosphere, or maybe some places simply refuse to forget. You know, Bob, every time we do one of those real world haunt segments, I'm reminded of something. Human history is basically just a long record of people building extremely creepy buildings and then acting surprised when they turn out to be haunted. Dumbasses.

SPEAKER_01 26:55

Exactly. If a building has the words asylum, prison, or unsolved axe murder in its history. Maybe don't turn it into a tourist attraction.

SPEAKER_04 27:09

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Come stay the night where eight people were brutally murdered in their sleep. That's not a vacation, that's a terrible fucking decision.

SPEAKER_01 27:18

But people love it. Humans have this strange urge to go looking for things that could absolutely ruin their peace of mind. Haunted houses, Ouija boards, gas station sushi.

SPEAKER_04 27:34

Yeah, and one of those things is definitely more dangerous than the others.

SPEAKER_01 27:38

Yeah. The sushi ghosts at least have the decency to kill you quickly.

SPEAKER_04 27:44

That's comforting.

SPEAKER_01 27:48

But the real question is this. If you were locked overnight in one of those three places we just talked about, which one are you choosing?

SPEAKER_04 27:58

Your mom's house. I don't know, man. Probably the Stanley Hotel. At least if something kills me, I'll die in a nice hotel.

SPEAKER_01 28:14

Fair. Personally, I'd pick the asylum.

SPEAKER_04 28:18

Oh yeah? Why's that?

SPEAKER_01 28:20

Because if someone sees me talking to ghosts in the hallway, they'll just assume I belong there.

SPEAKER_04 28:32

That might actually be the most logical thing you've said all night, Bob.

SPEAKER_01 28:36

Thank you. Years of questionable decision making have prepared me for exactly that scenario.

SPEAKER_04 28:43

Well, hopefully, none of us have to test that theory. But speaking of unsettling places, there's one place horror fans visit all the time. The movie theater. Because for decades, filmmakers have been trying to recreate the same feeling those real locations give people isolation, unease, and the creeping suspicion that something is very, very wrong. Which brings us to the next part of tonight's episode.

SPEAKER_06 29:22

Stepping life stone.

SPEAKER_05 29:43

Digging the cut like a late-night sergeant. Find a girls bleeding through the script. Marge's basement door laps every time that it opens. We trace the gotta win the scene with the word turn every jump scare back into a bird.

SPEAKER_03 30:44

To the movies, books, and monsters that shaped our nightmares. From the silver screen to the last page, this is where horror becomes legend.

SPEAKER_04 30:54

Before we dive into this next segment, a quick heads up for the listeners. The following discussion will contain major spoilers for several horror films, including House on Haunted Hill, released in 1999, The Innkeepers, released in 2011, Grave Encounters, released in 2011, Session 9, released in 2001, Hellhouse LLC, released in 2015, and the best one, The Shining, released in 1980. If you haven't seen these films and want to experience them without knowing what happens, you may want to pause this episode here and come back after you've watched them. We'll also be discussing violent scenes, disturbing images, and graphic moments, so listener discretion is advised. Alright, let's step into the dark, motherfuckers.

SPEAKER_01 31:45

Alright, creeps. Welcome back to the movie segment. Tonight, John and I are counting down six horror films that share a very important theme. Buildings where terrible things happened and the people dumb enough to go inside them anyway. Coming in at number six tonight is the 1999 remake of House on Haunted Hill. Directed by William Malone, this movie takes the classic haunted house formula and moves it into one of the creepiest horror settings imaginable. An abandoned psychiatric hospital where brutal experiments were once performed on patients. Which already feels a bit like the kind of place where you shouldn't even stop your car. Let alone throw a birthday party. But in this movie, that's exactly what happens.

SPEAKER_04 32:42

The movie opens with a disturbing backstory about the Vannicott Psychiatric Institute for the Criminally Insane. And when they say criminally insane, they mean the doctors. The hospital is run by Dr. Richard Vannicott, a sadistic surgeon who treats his patients less like human beings and more like spare parts. His idea therapy includes surgical experiments that look suspiciously like medieval torture. At some point, the inmates finally reached a logical conclusion. Maybe the guy cutting pieces off of us shouldn't be in charge. Yeah, you fucking think. So the patients revolt, they break free, they kill the staff, they burn the building, and everyone dies. Which leaves behind a structure that's basically soaked in murder, torture, and a hundred years of bad vibes. So naturally, this becomes the location for a fucking birthday party. Enter Steven Price. Our host is Steven Price, an eccentric billionaire played by Jeffrey Rush. Price loves elaborate party themes, but this time his wife Evelyn decides to make things interesting. Instead of inviting their rich friends, she invites five random strangers. What could go wrong? Each of them receives an invitation promising$1 million if they survive the night inside the asylum. Normally, if a billionaire offers you money to spend the night in a building where people were tortured to death, you probably should assume you're part of some kind of extremely illegal game show. Come on down, folks. But every single one of them accepts fucking retards because horror movies rely heavily on a very important survival rule. Common sense does not exist. The guests, the five guests arrive thinking it's a party. Yeah, dude. Instead, they find a decaying asylum, locked doors, and a host who tells them they're now playing a game where the price is not dying. Things begin going wrong almost immediately. Lights flicker, doors slam shut, hallways appear that weren't there before. The building starts separating the guests into smaller groups, Survivor Bitch. Which is horror movie rule number one. Never fucking split up. Yet, somehow, everyone does. The ghosts. Soon the guests begin encountering the spirits of an asylum. But these ghosts aren't the traditional general hallway floaters. There's twisted ones, mutilated apparitions of former patients. One of the creepiest moments involves a hallway where ghostly doctors appear performing surgery on a screaming patient. The scene looks like nightmare version of an operating theater, which raises the question, why would anyone stay after seeing that? At that point, I would have been halfway down the fucking hall ready already. Million dollars or not. Fuck that. The twist? What? There's even more? As the night continues, the survivors realize something worse than the ghost might be happening. The asylum itself is alive. Not just haunted, alive. The building has absorbed the violence and suffering that happened inside it, and now it feeds on the people trapped inside. Atmosphere and cinematography. Visually, the film leans heavily into late 90s gothic horror. The asylum feels massive and oppressive. Stone corridors, rusting medical equipment. You're gonna get tetanus, bitches. Flickering fluorescent lights. The camera frequently drifts through empty hallways, creating the sense that something is watching. Oftentimes, it is. Budget, box office, and reception. The film had a production budget of about$19 million. It earned roughly 40 million worldwide, making it a modest financial success. Critics were mixed in their reactions. Some praised the creepy setting and Jeffrey Rush's performance. Others criticized the heavy CGI in the final act. Over time, however, the movie developed a cult following among horror fans. Reflection From a horror fan perspective, House on Haunted Hill succeeds in several areas. The setting is off the hook. The premise is effective, and Jeffree Rush fully commits to the bizarre tone. Is it perfect? No. Some of the 90s CGI looks like it came from a PlayStation cutscene. But the movie itself still delivers memorable scares and one of the most entertaining haunted asylum concepts of its era. What makes this film interesting in the context of tonight's episode is the idea that the buildings absorb trauma, that violence leaves a kind of psychological residue, which connects directly to the real places we talked about earlier tonight. The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, the Velisca Axe Murder House, and the Stanley Hotel, places where history left scars, and whether you believe in ghosts or not, there is something undeniably unsettling about standing in a place where terrible things happened. Because sometimes it feels like those places never forget.

SPEAKER_01 37:38

Alright, creeps. Moving up the list. Coming in at number five tonight is the 2011 supernatural slowburn horror film, The Innkeepers. Now, unlike the previous movie, which involved rich idiots willingly locking themselves inside a haunted, insane asylum. This one answers a different question. What happens when two extremely bored hotel employees decide the best way to spend their final weekend on the job is to hunt ghosts inside a building that's been rumored to be haunted for decades. Because clearly, when you're working your last shift somewhere, the smart thing to do is provoke supernatural entities that may or may not want to rip your soul out. Instead of, you know, just watching Netflix.

SPEAKER_04 38:36

The film takes place inside the Yankee Paddler Inn, a historic hotel in Connecticut that is about to close its doors permanently, which is fucking depressing. But it gets worse. Fuck my life. Because the hotel also has a long-standing ghost story tied to it. The spirit of a woman named Madeline O'Malley, who reportedly hanged herself in one of the rooms decades earlier. And if you know anything about horror movies, a suicide ghost inside a decaying hotel is basically the supernatural equivalent of a loaded gun on the table. Something bad is definitely going to happen. Meet the ghost hunters. Our two main characters are Claire and Luke, the last employees working during the hotel's final weekend. And because the hotel is nearly empty, they have a lot of time to get bored. Which leads them to start a ghost hunting website called Yankee Peddler Inn Investigations. Now, if I'm working the final shift in a nearly abandoned haunted hotel, my plan is to finish my shift, collect my paycheck, and peace out, bitches. Their plan is the opposite. They decide to actively search for the ghost, which is the horror equivalent of knocking on a door that clearly says, do not open, you dumb fucks. So naturally, the investigation begins. Claire becomes increasingly obsessed with proving the haunting. She sets up microphones, records audio, explores the basement, and spends large portions of the night wandering through empty hallways, which is horror movie rule number two. Never wander through abandoned buildings alone after midnight, but she does repeatedly. At this point, Luke mostly treats the whole thing like a joke until they start hearing strange sounds in the hotel. Footsteps, doors opening, movement upstairs when no guests are present. The building slowly begins to feel less like a hotel and more like something waiting. The medium arrives. This is Cleo! Time for your psychic reading, motherfucker. One of the guests standing at the hotel is an eccentric former actress who claims to be a psychic medium, and she immediately warns Claire that trying to contact spirits is dangerous. We must have ourselves a genius. Because once you open the door, you don't always get to choose what comes through, which feels like excellent advice. Advice that Claire completely ignores, because curiosity in horror movies always beat survival instincts. The basement. Eventually, Claire decides to explore the hotel's basement, which is exactly where the story of Madeline O'Malley ends. And the atmosphere shifts completely. The film goes from quietly curious to suffocating dread. The basement is dark, silent, and filled with old furniture and equipment that look like they haven't been touched in decades. Claire begins hearing noises, breathing, movement behind her, and then she finally encounters something. The ghost of Madeline O'Malley. The ending. Without spoiling every detail of the final moments, the film ends on a bleak and unsettling note. Claire's obsession with proving the haunting leads her directly into danger. And then the hotel proves something very important about haunted places. Sometimes the spirits don't want attention. Sometimes they just want company. Horror tropes. The film plays heavily into several classic horror tropes. Haunted Hotel Trope. Isolated Location with Tragic History. Curiosity Kills Trope. Investigating the Supernatural invites danger. Slow burn trope. Tension builds quietly before the horror hits. Final Descent trope. Protagonist explores the darkest part of the building. Atmosphere and cinematography. Director Ty West relies heavily on minimalism. Camera lingers on empty hallways and dimly lit rooms longer than feels comfortable. This creates the unsettling feeling that something might appear in the background. The lighting is warm but faded, like the hotel itself is slowly dying. Silence becomes one of the film's most effective horror tools. Budget, box office, and reception. The film was made on a relatively small budget of about 750,000. Despite the modest budget, the movie performed well in limited release and gained strong support among horror fans. Critics praised its atmosphere and character-driven storytelling. Reflection: The Innkeepers is a slow-burn horror film. It doesn't rely on heavy CGI or constant jump scares. Instead, it focuses on unease, isolation, and curiosity. Some viewers expecting a fast-paced horror film may find it slow, but if you appreciate atmospheric horror, the film delivers. What makes the Innkeepers fit perfectly with tonight's episode is the idea that the places hold stories. The Yankee Peddler Inn isn't just haunted because someone died there. It's haunted because the building itself has witnessed decades of life, tragedy, and memory, which connects directly to the real locations discussed earlier in this episode. The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, the Valliska Axe Murder House, the Stanley Hotel, places where history didn't disappear, places where the past still feels close enough to touch, and sometimes close enough to answer back.

SPEAKER_01 43:48

Alright, creeps. We're moving up the list. Coming in at number four tonight is the 2011 Found Footage Paranormal Nightmare Crave Encounters. Now this movie answers a very important question. What happens when a group of smug reality DV ghost hunters decide to lock themselves overnight inside an abandoned insane asylum to prove ghosts aren't real? Short answer. That experiment goes spectacularly badly. Because the asylum they choose is Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital. A place with decades of reported hauntings, patient abuse stories, and enough urban legends to make any sane person immediately say, Yeah. Maybe let's investigate literally anywhere else. But not these guys. No no. They bring cameras, they bring microphones, they bring night vision goggles, and they bring the single most dangerous personality trait in horror movies. Overconfidence.

SPEAKER_04 44:58

The film begins as an episode of a fictional paranormal reality show called Grave Encounters. Think Ghost Hunters, but with slightly more arrogance and significantly worse decision making. The host is Lance Preston, a smug TV personality who openly admits that most of the show's hauntings are staged.

SPEAKER_06 45:17

You're a phony, a great big phony.

SPEAKER_04 45:20

They use actors, fake noises, rigged equipment. Basically, the entire show is a haunted house attraction for cable television. But, for this episode, they decide to investigate Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital, an abandoned asylum rumored to be haunted by former patients, which is a terrible fucking idea. Let's do this again. But they decide to make it even worse. They lock themselves inside overnight. The setup. The crew consists of Lance, the cocky douchebag host, Sasha, the producer, Houston, the cameraman, TC, the tech guy, Matt, the skeptical sound guy. They arrive at the asylum and immediately start filming interviews with locals. Former hospital employees talk about strange noises, disappearances, patients wandering the halls long after death. One groundskeeper even claims the building changes its layout at night, which should have been the moment everyone packed up their shit and went home, but instead, they lock the front doors behind them. Night 1. At first, everything feels like a typical ghost hunting show. They wander through the hospital hallways, set up cameras, make jokes about ghosts, and Lance continues acting like the whole thing is a publicity stunt until strange things start happening. Doors slam, footsteps echo down empty corridors, and the crew begins hearing distant voices in the darkness. But the real problem begins when they try to leave. Because when morning comes, the doors they locked the night before are gone. Not locked, not stuck, fucking gone. The hallways have changed, the building has rearranged itself, and suddenly the crew realizes something terrifying. They're not just inside a haunted asylum, they're trapped inside it. The descent. From here, the movie slowly transforms into a nightmare maze. The crew begins wandering deeper into the hospital trying to find an exit, but every hallway leads somewhere new. Staircases go away. Doors open into rooms that shouldn't even exist. The asylum becomes less like a building and more like a living labyrinth, which plays into one of the film's most terrifying ideas. The ghosts aren't just haunting the asylum, they're controlling it. Bring on the patients. Eventually the crew begins encountering the spirits of former patients. But these ghosts aren't subtle. They're grotesque, twisted, distorted. One particularly disturbing scene shows ghostly patients undergoing surgical procedures in an abandoned operating room. The figures move in jerky, unnatural motions, like broken marionettes, which is deeply unsettling. But also raises a very fair question. Why does anyone in horror movies keep moving towards the screaming noises? At that point, I would have curled up in the fucking corner and praying that the ghosts leave. Total collapse. As the night stretches on, the crew begins breaking down psychologically. Sleep deprivation, fear, isolation. Members of the team start disappearing. Others become convinced they're being watched, and the asylum grows darker, longer, more impossible. The crew eventually discovers the spirit of the hospital's former director, Dr. Arthur Friedkin, a surgeon who performed brutal lobotomies and experimental procedures on the patients, and now, his spirit still roams the hospital, still experimenting, still searching for new subjects. Horror tropes. This movie leans heavily into several classic horror tropes. The haunted asylum trope, abandoned psychiatric hospitals full of tortured souls, found footage trope, events captured through handheld cameras, the labyrinth trope. The building itself becomes a trap. Reality TV arrogance trope. People who don't believe in ghosts learn the fucking hard way. But what makes the movie effective is how it flips one of the biggest paranormal cliches. Normally, ghost hunters investigate haunted locations. In this movie, the location investigates them. Mind blown, mind blown. Atmosphere and cinematography. The found footage style adds a strong sense of realism. The cameras feel frantic, chaotic, shaky. Night vision shots create long black corridors where anything could appear. The asylum itself becomes the film's most terrifying character. Long hallways, endless rooms, peeling paint, rusting hospital equipment, and the constant feeling that the building is watching. Because in this case, it actually is. Budget, box office, and reception. The movie was produced on a very small budget of around$1 million. Despite the low budget, the film became a major cult hit in the horror community. Critics praised its tension and creativity, especially the way it used the asylum setting. Fans of Found Footage Horror often consider it one of the best entries in the genre. Reflection. Grave Encounter succeeds because it takes a familiar concept, Ghost Hunters in a Haunted Building, and pushes it into full nightmare territory. The film builds tension slowly before unleashing chaos in the final act. The changing architecture of the asylum is one of the most effective horror concepts in recent memory, and unlike many found footage movies, this one actually sticks the landing. What makes grave encounters especially interesting in the context of tonight's episode is how closely it mirrors the real stories we talked about earlier. Abandoned asylums like Trans Allegheny have long histories of patient abuse, overcrowding, and tragic deaths. And when people visit those buildings today, many report feeling something strange, a heaviness in the air, a sense of being watched. Movies like this tap directly into that fear. The idea that places where suffering occurred might still hold on to it, because sometimes the walls remember.

SPEAKER_01 51:22

And coming in at number three tonight is the 2001 psychological horror film, Session 9. Now, earlier in the episode, we talked about real asylums like Trans Allegheny, where thousands of patients lived under conditions that ranged from questionable to downright horrifying. This movie takes that same idea and asks a simple question. What happens when a group of workers spends several days alone inside one of those abandoned psychiatric hospitals? Cleaning it out? Short answer. Their mental health declines significantly faster than the asbestos they're removing. Because the building in this film isn't just creepy. It's Danvers State Hospital, one of the most infamous real psychiatric hospitals in the United States. Which means this movie is basically the cinematic equivalent of saying, hey, let's spend a week inside a place where thousands of people suffered mental breakdowns. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

SPEAKER_04 52:37

The film begins with a small asbestos removal crew arriving at Danver State Hospital. The hospital has been abandoned for years, and the building is massive. Towering red brick walls, endless corridors, peeling paint, broken windows, and the kind of silence that makes every footstep still echo like a gunshot. The crew consists of five workers Gordon, the stressed-out boss trying to keep his company afloat, Phil, his confident right-hand man, Mike, the new guy, Jeff, a conspiracy theory-obsessed co-worker who spends half his time ranting about government mind control programs, and Hank, the laid-back veteran worker. They've been hired to remove asbestos from the building, a job that normally takes two to three weeks, but Gordon promises the client they'll finish it in one week. Which is horror movie rule number three never rush a job inside a haunted asylum. The first day. At first, the job seems routine. The workers explore the hospital's various wings, patient wards, medical rooms, tunnels. But the building itself immediately feels wrong. The hallway stretch forever. Rooms appear untouched since the hospital closed. Wheelchairs sit abandoned. Medical files remain scattered across desks. It feels less like a building and more like a place that was simply left behind overnight. And then the crew discovers the tapes, the therapy recordings. Hidden in the hospital archives are old psychiatric session recordings belonging to a formal patient named Mary Hobbs. Mike begins listening to the tapes while working, and the recordings become one of the most disturbing parts of the video. During the sessions, Mary appears to have multiple personalities. Each personality speaks in a different voice, different tone, different identity, and as the sessions progress, a darker personality begins emerging. A voice that calls itself Simon. Simon claims to live in the weak and broken parts of the human mind, waiting, watching, listening. And the more Mike listens to these tapes, the more the crew's behavior begins changing. Psychological breakdown. As the days pass inside the hospital, tension begins building between the workers, sleep deprivation, isolation, stress, arguments. The building begins affecting them. Jeff becomes obsessed with hidden tunnels under the hospital. Phil starts wandering off alone into restricted areas. Mike continues listening to Mary Hobbs' therapy sessions, becoming increasingly disturbed by the voice of Simon, and Gordon, already under extreme pressure, begins unraveling emotionally, which leads to one of the film's most unsettling ideas. The hospital might not be haunted by ghosts. It might simply be a place where human minds fall apart. The final realization. He doesn't live inside Mary, he lives inside everyone. Inside the weak, inside the broken, inside the places where fear takes hold. And as the film's final events unfold, it becomes clear that the real horror of the building isn't supernatural at all. It's psychological. Horror tropes. Session 9 uses several classic horror tropes, but flips them in an interesting way. The Haunted Asylum Trope, abandoned psychiatric hospital with a dark history, isolation trope, characters cut off from the outside world, slow descent into madness. Characters deteriorating mentally, unreliable perception trope. Reality becomes unclear. But unlike most haunted building movies, this film never clearly confirms whether anything supernatural is actually happening, which makes the story even more unsettling. Atmosphere and cinematography. The film's greatest strength is its atmosphere, because it was shot inside the real Danver State Hospital. The setting feels authentic. Massive staircases, endless corridors, towering brick walls. The cinematography uses natural lighting whenever possible, which makes the building feel cold and lifeless. Long tracking shots through empty hallways create the feeling that something might appear at any moment. But often, nothing does, and that silence becomes the film's most effective horror tool. Budget, box office, and reception. The movie was produced on a modest budget of around 1.5 million. It didn't perform strongly at the box office during its initial release, though, but over time it gained a significant cult following, especially among fans of psychological horror. Today, many critics consider it one of the best slow burn horror films of the early 2000s. Reflection Session 9 is not a movie built on jump scares. It's built on dread. The tension builds slowly, almost quietly, until the final act reveals just how fragile the human mind can be. And the use of real asylum architecture gives the film a level of authenticity that most horror movies simply can't replicate. It's a film that stays with you long after it ends. What makes session nine so powerful in the context of tonight's episode is the idea that some places don't just contain history, they absorb it. Buildings like Denver State Hospital or Trans Allegheny or other abandoned psychiatric institutions were places where thousands of people suffered from mental illness, trauma, and isolation. And when those buildings finally close, they leave behind something strange, not necessarily ghosts, but memories, echoes, the feeling that the walls witness things that were never meant to hold. And sometimes those echoes are louder than any ghost story.

SPEAKER_01 58:36

Alright, creeps. We've made it to number two. And this one is a perfect fit for tonight's episode. Because it takes two of the worst possible ideas you could combine a haunted hotel and a Halloween haunted attraction. Coming in at number two is the 2015 found footage horror film Hellhouse LLC. If you've ever been to one of those seasonal haunted attractions where actors jump out with chainsaws and fake blood, this movie asks the question what if that attraction was built inside an actually haunted building? Because that's exactly what happens here. A group of friends open a haunted house attraction inside an abandoned hotel called the Abaddon Hotel. Which, judging by the name alone, should have been the first warning sign. Because if a building is literally named after a biblical demon king, maybe don't start a business there.

SPEAKER_04 59:44

The film is framed as a documentary investigating a tragedy that occurred in 2009. During the opening night of a haunted attraction called Hellhouse, something went terribly wrong. So fucking wrong. Panic erupted inside the building, dozens of people ran for the exits, and 15 people died, including several members of the attraction staff. The cause of the disaster was never fully explained, but rumors quickly spread that something supernatural occurred inside the building. The documentary then jumps back in time to the months leading up to the event. The setup. A group of friends led by Alex Taylor decide to create the ultimate haunted house attraction. Yeah, that's your first mistake, idiot. They move into the abandoned Abaddon Hotel to prepare the attraction. The building had been closed for decades after a series of mysterious deaths. I mean, how much more? Like, and once again we see a classic horror trope. Ignoring the building's violent history, you dumb fucks. Because anytime someone in a horror movie says, Yeah, people died here, but the rent is cheap, you know the movie is about to go very badly. Moving in, the crew begins building the haunted attraction inside the hotel. Almost immediately, strange things start happening. Doors open by themselves, objects move, lights flicker, but the creepiest element might be the clown mannequins used as part of the attraction. Man, fuck a clown. They appear in different locations when nobody moved them, which raises a very important question. Why is it always clowns, dude? Why are haunted buildings never filled with mannequins dressed up as accountants? Apparently, demons prefer circus themes. The basement. Things escalate when the crew explores the hotel's basement. They discover ritual markings carved into the walls. The implication is that the hotel may have been used for occult ceremonies long before the haunted attraction existed, which means the hotel may have not just been haunted, something might have been invited there. Now, the clown room. One of the most famous scenes involves a character waking up in the night to see one of the clown mannequins staring at him. He looks away, looks back, and the mannequin's closer. Technically, the mannequin never moves on camera, but the implication is clear. Something in the building is moving them. Opening night. Eventually the story reaches opening night. Hundreds of guests enter expecting a fun haunted house experience. This should be fun, guys. But instead, the hotel things begin going very wrong. Actors report seeing figures that are not part of the attraction. Guests panic, lights fail, people begin running through the building. Total chaos. By the end of the night, 15 people are dead, and the Abaddon Hotel becomes one of the most infamous haunted locations in the country. Horror Tropes. The film uses several classic horror tropes. Haunted Hotel Trope, Abandoned Building with a Violent Past. Found Footage Trope. Documentary style storytelling, mannequin trope, objects that appear to move, occult ritual trope, supernatural forces summoned by previous occupants, atmosphere and cinematography. The found footage format makes the film feel disturbingly real. Handheld cameras, security footage, night vision recordings. The hotel itself is dark and claustrophobic with long hallways and rooms filled with mannequins and props. This makes it difficult to tell what is part of the attraction and what isn't. Budget box office and reception. The film was produced on a very small budget, around$1 million or less. Despite the low budget, it became a cult hit among horror fans. It eventually spawned several sequels. Reflection Hellhouse LLC succeeds because the fear feels believable. The documentary style storytelling adds realism. The slow escalation of paranormal events builds genuine dread. It is one of the stronger modern found footage horror films for sure. What makes Hellhouse LLC fit tonight's theme is the idea that some buildings become containers for tragedy. The Abaddon Hotel is fictional, but places like the Stanley Hotel, abandoned hospitals, or locations like the Velisca Axe Murder House often develop the same reputation. Places where people swear something still lingers, places where the past feels close. Places where some doors were never meant to be open.

SPEAKER_01 1:04:16

Alright, creeps. We've reached number one. And if you've been paying attention to tonight's theme, haunted buildings, violent histories, and places where something in the walls might still be listening, this one should not surprise you. Coming in at number one tonight is the 1980 psychological horror masterpiece, The Shining. Earlier in the episode, we talked about the Stanley Hotel in Esther Spark, Colorado. The real hotel that inspired Stephen King to write the novel which raises an important question. If a famous horror author stays one night in a hotel and immediately writes a story about a father losing his mind and trying to murder his family, maybe that hotel has some weird vibes. But the movie version, directed by Stanley Kubrick, takes that idea and turns it into something even more disturbing. Because the Overlook Hotel in this film isn't just haunted. It's hungry.

SPEAKER_04 1:05:27

Red rum! Red rum! I just popped the fresh Zen and shugged a little monster to do this one right here. Let's get it. The film begins with Jack Torrance, a struggling writer and recovering alcoholic. Kinda sounds familiar. Accepting a job as the winter caretaker of the remote overlook hotel in the Colorado Mountains. The job sounds simple. Stay at the hotel during the winter while it's closed. Maintain the building. Right. Relax, man. Try not to go insane from fucking isolation. But the manager Casually mentions a small detail during the interview. The previous caretaker murdered his entire family with an axe after going insane during the winter, which should probably be a deal breaker during the job interview. But Jack takes the job anyways. Arrival. Jack arrives at the Overlook with his wife Wendy and their young son Danny. Danny possesses a psychic ability known as the Shining, allowing him to see visions and communicate telepathically. Almost immediately, Danny begins sensing something inside the hotel. Something old. Something angry. Something waiting. The Overlook Hotel. The hotel itself is enormous. Long hallways, massive empty ballrooms, endless corridors. The famous steady cam shots follow Danny riding his tricycle through the hotel's hallways. Yeah, those are epic. Classic. Carpet, hardwood, carpet, hardwood. Until he turns a corner and sees the Grady twins standing silently in the hallway. One of the most iconic horror images ever filmed. Jack's descent. At first, Jack tries to focus on riding, but isolation begins affecting him. He becomes hostile and unstable. The hotel begins influencing him. He has visions of a ghostly bartender named Lloyd. He encounters a woman in room 237 who transforms into a decaying corpse. Yeah, it was like a decent looking woman in the bathtub, like, bring on the titties. Then she turned into some nasty shit. Eventually, Jack meets the ghost of Delbert Grady, the previous caretaker who murdered his family. Grady suggests something deeply disturbing. That Jack has always been the caretaker. The breaking point. Eventually, Jack loses control completely. He begins chasing Wendy through the hotel with an ax. He breaks down a bathroom door and delivers the famous line Here's Johnny. Meanwhile, Danny uses his psychic ability to call for help from Dick Holloran, the hotel chef who also possesses the Shining. Halloran returns to the hotel to help them, but the Overlook has other plans. The maze. The final sequence takes place in the hotel's snow-covered hedge maze. Danny escapes into the labyrinth while Jack chases him through the storm. But Danny cleverly walks backward in his own footprints, confusing Jack's trail. Jack becomes lost in the maze and eventually freezes to death in the snow. Horror tropes. The Shining uses several classic horror tropes. Haunted Hotel Trope, a building with a violent past, isolation trope, characters trapped in a remote location, psychological breakdown trope, slow descent into madness, an evil location trope. The place itself influences events, atmosphere, and cinematography. Visually, the Shining is one of the most meticulously crafted horror films ever made. Kubrick uses symmetrical framing, long tracking shots, and unnatural stillness to build tension. The Overlook Hotel feels vast and empty, yet strangely claustrophobic at the same time. Bright lighting in many scenes actually makes the horror worse because nothing is hidden. Budget, box office, and reception. The film was produced on a budget of approximately$19 million. It earned over 47 million worldwide during its original release. Early critics' reactions were mixed, but the film has since become widely regarded as one of the greatest horror films ever made. Reflection The Shining works because it blends psychological horror with supernatural mystery. It builds dread through atmosphere rather than jump scares. The film explores isolation, madness, and the terrifying idea that its place itself possessed kind of a malevolent intelligence. What makes The Shining the perfect number one film for tonight's episode is its exploration of places that hold history. The Overlook Hotel is haunted not just by ghosts, but by violence, tragedy, and memory, which connects directly to the real locations discussed earlier in this episode. The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, the Velisca Axe Murder House, the Stanley Hotel, places where terrible things happened. Places where visitors still claim something lingers. Because sometimes buildings don't just store memories, sometimes they echo them. Red rum! Red rum! Final reflection. You know, one thing tonight's stories, hauntings, and movies all have in common is the idea that places remember things. Not just ghosts, not just supernatural legends, but history. Buildings are strange that way. They're silent witnesses to everything that happens inside them. Births, deaths, arguments, violence, joy, madness, all of it. And when enough of those moments pile up in the same place, people start to feel something. Maybe it's psychological, maybe it's environmental, or maybe there really is something about certain locations that holds on to the past. Think about the places we talked about tonight. Old psychiatric hospitals where thousands of people were locked away and forgotten. Homes where unspeakable crimes occurred. Hotels where guests claim they hear footsteps and empty hallways, places like the Stanley Hotel, places like Trans Allegheny, places where visitors walk in perfectly calm and walk out saying something felt off. Not because they saw a ghost, but because the atmosphere itself felt heavy. Like the building knew something. And horror stories love that idea. That a house, a hospital, or a hotel could become something more than just wood and brick. That a place could absorb what happens inside it and eventually start giving something back. Maybe that's why haunted location stories never really go away. Because every town has one. That abandoned building everyone avoids. The old house kids dare each other to go inside. That hotel room people refuse to stay in. Places where someone swears they heard something, or saw something, or felt something watch them from the dark. And whether those stories are real or just part of the way we process tragedy and memory, they remind us of something important. Some places carry their past quietly, but others echo. And so, my creeps, that brings us to the end of tonight's episode. If you enjoyed what you heard tonight, make sure you follow the show on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen, so you never miss an episode. And if you want to help the show grow, the best thing you can do is leave a rating or review. It helps more people discover the podcast and keeps the darkness spreading. Also, if tonight's listener stories made you think of something strange that's happened to you, I want to hear it. From this point forward, the original stories featured on Echoes in the Dark will be listener-submitted stories from people like you. So if you've experienced something unexplained, something disturbing, something that still sticks with you years later, send it in. Your story might be featured in a future episode of Echoes in the Dark. And before we go, a quick reminder that my novel Hope Well Hollow is officially out now. If you enjoy slow burn folk horror, generational curses, and small towns hiding in very dark secrets, you can grab a copy wherever books are sold. And if you want to represent the show, you can check out the hollow shop over at Darkhollomedia LLC.com. Again, that's Darkhollomedia LLC.com. We've got Echoes in the Dark and Hope Well Hollow merch, including teas, hoodies, and mugs for anyone who likes their coffee with a sight of existential dread.

SPEAKER_03 1:13:58

Until next time, sleep well and remember when you're lying in bed tonight and you hear something, it's probably just your imagination.

SPEAKER_06 1:14:10

Or is it footsteps fade? You made it to the end, my friend. Shadows talk, but you already know them. Whispers crawl through the hall of your headphones. Hold your breath till we let this fear go. Echoes in the dark, on the places in your head. Thanks for listening in the back. Taking us to everything. One more door, yeah, we'll leave a crack for you. When you're back, we got stories in the gloom. Oh, children, when the outro starts to creep. If you hear your name, don't just breathe.