Back in the late 1800's The Lattrine Hospital was developed in our small community, my mother was even born there in 54. It has since changed names and owners many times, the latest being an Antique store/cafe.
About 5 years ago I worked there, at the then Legacy House. The Legacy House was a home for mentally disabled or handicapped if you will. We housed over 50 special residents. I was merely the receptionist, but soon learned that I would have much more responsibility.
I cleaned the patients and the grounds, I cooked, I served meals, just about anything that they needed help with. I also had night shift where 3 days a week I would stay from 7pm - 8am and help with patients. I had heard rumors when I first went to work there of the many ghosts that inhabited the old hospital, but I was a sceptic. I will admit there is very little charm to the old hospital/nursing home/care house. It is tall and brick and has over 180 rooms and that was literally about it. My first week that I worked without someone there supervising me went okay. Once you got used to the different behavior of the patients it was time to learn about the "other" guests.
There were several ghosts, male, female, children, elders. You could hear them walking up the stairs at all hours of the night. Sometimes they would yell and sometimes they would laugh. I once remember a kid scream, "I WANT TO GO HOME." followed by an over powering male voice, "QUIET YOU WILL WAKE THE PATIENTS." I also remember that I was doing checks at 12:00 to make sure everyone was in for the night and I saw a woman standing in the hallway in front of me in full nursing clothes. She held a paper or a clipboard and walked right through room 77 door.
I could never forget room 77 because so much happened there. It didn't look any different then the other rooms but there was a lot of noise that came from the room. It was used for storage, we kept my message paper and pens in there. I remember running out of paper and having to go in that room. I was so scared to be in there alone. I unlocked the door and went in. As I was digging around I heard a voice say "Patients aren't allowed in here, I'm telling Dr. Wiseman." I ran to the door and I couldn't get it open. It was like someone was using their hands to hold me in. I started banging on the door! I thought I was going to pee myself. After about 2 minutes of being locked in (which felt like 5 days) the door opened and I ran down the hall to the phone to call someone, ANYONE so I didn't feel alone. There was only 2 other staff on night shift. Charlie said he was 5 rooms down with a patient and never heard me scream, but he heard me run down the hall and sounded as though someone was running behind me. UGH!
About a week later I heard a patient yelling for help. When I got up the stairs, Aaron, who has Downes Syndrome, was standing by his door covered in his own urine. He was crying and told me that the "mean nurse" had been in his room and was yelling at him. I was the only female that worked at the old house, and he was so sure it was a female nurse. He wasn't the only patient to complain about 'her.' D.P. another patient refused to sleep alone or in the dark. He said that the doctor wanted to cut him. The place was a mess.
There is so many more stories, I might submit later. Needless to say I quit my job there. About 7 months after I quit the house was shut down. Gee I wonder why. Oh and one more interesting fact. I pulled up a picture from when the house opened as a hospital, and guess what? The head doctor's name was Victor Wiseman.