Today we're going to be talking about a place that was a city in its own right, a place where

the living and the dead were counted by the thousands and where today the echoes of those people

are said to still walk the halls.

Retired Sergeant Richard Brooks of the Westland Police Department was a man who spent his career dealing with the concrete realities of the world.

He was used to the facts, he was used to evidence and the things that you could touch.

But one night, while patrolling the grounds of what used to be the Eloise Asylum. He experienced something that defied every bit of his

training. It was long after the hospital had officially shuttered its doors. The sprawling campus

was a ghost town of red brick and broken glass. Sergeant Brooks was on the site with his

canine partner, performing a routine sweep to clear

out vandals or urban explorers who frequently risked the rest to see the decay for themselves.

As they moved through the darkened corridors, his canine companion suddenly locked onto

something.

The dog didn't bark, it didn't growl, it just stood perfectly still, its ears forward,

staring into the pitch-black void of the hallway ahead.

Brooks followed the dog's gaze and saw it, a shadowy figure, darker than the shadows

around it, moving with a fluid, unnatural grace.

Thinking he had finally caught a trespasser, Brooks called out in order to stop.

The figure didn't stop.

It slipped around the corner.

So Brooks and his canine gave chase.

He could hear the heavy rhythmic thud of footsteps on the floorboards just ahead of them.

They were close.

...