Note: Exaggerations are included in this article in the spirit of Halloween.
Even in the lively environment of the Upper School, there’s still that one dusty corner with creaky walls that everyone avoids because of a so-called haunting ghost. Secret rooms that no one thinks about and locations with names that always raise a question. Where is that? That place exists? And so I embarked on a risky journey through the campus, scouting out these mysterious places without knowing what I would encounter.
First, Moore Hall. Originally built as a dormitory, this building has a bit of a hitch to it. You can’t get from one end of the building to another without going through a classroom, leading you through twists and turns and multiple murmurs of “excuse me.” At one end of the recently renovated top floor is the moon room, with blue lighting and chill vibes. However, there’s a curious door on one wall that leads to who knows where, and if you were in that room alone, you would only be accompanied by the sound of the heater and the constant typing away at keyboards of an invisible figure.
What do you think of when you hear the name Bliss Hall? In this heavy-traffic building, students constantly roam the halls, full of chatter. Yet, they rarely walk the hall of the top floor, the business office. Perhaps they even avoid them. Despite the welcoming offices, walking down that hallway is silent and chilly, with nothing to comfort you except your footsteps and heartbeat.
Onto the drama makeup room located backstage in St. Nicholas Hall. A place with limited access, the lights are bright and the costumes are plenty. Between and behind the costumes are spiderwebs, bugs, and even rats. A wide variety of props and decorations are scattered along the makeup counter — a skull, a bouquet of flowers, and quite a few wristbands. When the lights are off, you would be surrounded by blurry letters on the walls, the small clock covered in dancing shadows, and the black chair with an inky area caused by alien beverages.
The next place I toured was the chapel. It contains a small indoor balcony overlooking the chapel, perfect for a choir or an infestation of ants. Outside the chapel, there is a ropes course tied to two trees that has been abandoned for years. When you find yourself wandering behind the chapel, you would hear the wind rustling, the creak of the ropes, and the shake of the tires that could fall at any moment.
Finally, the Piggott Arts Center. The bottom floor is welcoming and an inspiring place to walk among great works of student art. The Tatler room is a grand one, but tucked into the corner is a hair-raising soundproof podcast room. What’s more, the light switch is outside the room. Without this information, you’d be enveloped in a blanket of darkness and complete silence. Down the hall is a darkroom, with a misleading and maze-like entrance. The walls are completely covered in black, and the smooth, slippery floor steals your attention as you try not to trip. The cameras are draped in plastic, perfect homes for clouds of flies and dust. Outside the building is a courtyard dedicated to Bill Dougall. It’s an open space of quiet and nature, with umbrellas that open suddenly and trees that prick every passing visitor. And located at a mini patio is a “backyard archive” of old art projects, scattered with teeth-filled monster faces, crooked snowmen, and lonely broken ships.
Next time you’re at the Upper School, be wary of these places. Well, you could also go ghost-hunting. That’s a choice. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you!