Written by Amber
It was a dark and stormy night.... okay, it wasn't stormy but it was most definitely dark. I worked in the Harmon building located at the Ohio Reformatory for Women. The Harmon building is the original structure that was the prison itself before more people began to populate the institution. It was built in September of 1916. The building is all white and has been nicknamed the "White House" (que the cringe). My job was basic janitorial duties such as sweeping, mopping, taking out the trash. My hours were 12:30a.m. - 2:00a.m.
Working in the Harmon building always had an eerie, strange energy to it, especially during the quieter shifts. The building itself is over 100 years old and you can feel that history when you walk the halls, no matter the time of day. One night while I was working, the hallways were completely silent and empty, but I clearly heard footsteps coming from the stairwell, like someone was walking down them slowly. I waited for someone to appear, thinking that it was a staff member who was working late as well or one of my co-workers coming through the door. No one ever appeared. The sound just stopped. I checked the area and the stairwell, there was no one there. Not wanting to appear scared, I continued to mop the hall slowly, eyes darting from side to side, ears perked, listening as hard as I could for any audible evidence to prove that I was not confused about what I heard. I was secretly hoping one of my co-workers was pranking me, however, no one ever showed their face. After about thirty seconds, I relaxed my tense shoulders and continued to mop, shaking off the thoughts that I previously had. The footsteps began again. I froze mid-mop. Still as cold glass, I don't think even think I was breathing much for a few seconds. It was as if the fear that washed over me paralyzed me momentarily. My heart was beating out of my chest. Surely someone would appear this time. I waited. And waited. Not wanting to miss whoever was ascending the stairs, my gaze remained fixed on the stairs. Still, no one appeared. Again, the footsteps stopped. I wondered; did they know I was listening? Did they feel my attention move from my task to their presence? I slowly put my mop down in the bucket, hands trembling, gripping the mop stick tightly, body feeling like Jell-O, and pushed it down the hall as fast as I could move my legs, sloshing water out of the bucket, leaving small puddles of water behind me as I walked towards the captain's office. I was certain that there were at least four or five people there. Oddly, when I reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, all three captains were in their office and all four of my co-workers were sitting down laughing and talking. They said they were waiting on me to finish mopping so that we could leave. In a place that already carries so many stories and horrific memories, moments like that make me wonder what energies may still linger in those walls.
Another time, I remember finishing up my job in one of the rooms when I clearly heard a door open and close. The only occupied room in the entire building was the captain's office. No other staff work third shift in the entire building for any reason. The captain's office was way down at the other end of the hallway and around a corner, nowhere near where I was. When I stepped out to see who had come in, the hallway lights were dim and there was no one there at all. The doors were still shut and locked exactly how they had been before. Needless to say, I didn't work there very long. Experiences like that stick with me because the Harmon building has such a long history and sometimes it feels like the past never completely leaves. Working there made me realize that some places hold on to their stories in ways that we can't always explain.