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HELL HOUSE |
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At first you don't even know whether you are seeing it or not. Perched on a steep bluff above the Patapsco River outside of Ellicott City above the paper mill, the ruins jerk out of the canopy of Maryland scrub forest like yellow teeth from pink gums. White walls stretching up three, is that four stories? But only the corner angles, two walls and then a tower, maybe? The ruins of a large, very large building, burnt and collapsed then re burnt. The kids call it Hell House, and the name fits.
If you're seeing this view at all you're in the right place. The cliff on the opposite side of the Patapsco from Hell House where climbers practice their ascents and depressed teens contemplate suicide. It's good to park on this side and climb down, because the cops know that any cars parked along the river are up to no good. Scramble down to where the train tunnel is, but cross the railroad bridge on the river and turn to your left. Look to the right, through the underbrush, and you'll see the stairs climbing the hill. A wide, grand stone staircase choked with clinging vines and littered with years of plant debris and sun bleached beer cans. When you get to the top, if it's summer, you'll see a wall of jungle. The kind of jungle that grows up where manicured grounds are abandoned, and the vines and foliage grow so thick that trees cant get enough light to grow into a forest. There should be a small paths leading up hill, follow it and you'll break through, uncomfortably close to the ruins of Hell House.
Once a religious center, a seminary maybe, Hell House has been utterly abandoned by the church as well as the 21st century. It was four story structure, but the roof and center have mostly collapsed, leaving most of the outer walls supporting nothing. A steel staircase climbs up one story, turns left and then abruptly ends in midair. Tall windows stretch into the sky, empty frames once filled with the faithful, perhaps thinking of their life eternal. A poor immortal, Hell House has almost been consumed totally by the forces of nature, with the access roads covered in a layer of soil and the entire structure seeming to sink back into the hillside.
You should be starting to get the chills by now. You'll have noticed that it is very quiet, and the sound of the river and the mill seem too far away. Stepping onto the grounds of Hell House is like stepping into another universe, the universe of the fractured brick and the melted glass, the buried road and the cracking branch. You'll feel like there is someone else here, someone just around that corner or behind that wall. No sounds of footsteps, just a sense of being ... observed. Maybe it's kids, but there's no graffiti or other signs of people hanging out. You could be the first visitor in years. Until you catch sight of the face painted on the inside of one of the walls, a leering death grin over three skulls.
You might think it's time to go, and if you do maybe you should. You've seen enough. But if you want go around the back of the ruins, and follow another small staircase up a little. You'll come across what looks like a wooden greenhouse, smashed in from above. A long thin structure, with the sun exposing the floor through the gaping roof. Cross though that, and try and find a small path leading further up the hill, and now you're actually in the trees again, out of sight of Hell House proper and somehow it's even worse. The pass climbs up a broad ridge, and was it once a side walk? It crosses a small road, the only passable road on the property, and crossing it will only make you feel more exposed. To what though? The cops wouldn't come up here, the road is blocked from below. Back into the trees, keep climbing, and you'll come to the gate of a cemetery.
An apparently grave less cemetery. No headstones, no ground markers. Maybe they were removed when the church abandoned the property. Do you think they took the bodies as well? Tunnel though the cemetery, because here the growth is so think you'll have to. Now, looming out of the gloom is the huge cross. How is it that the cross is still standing? Stop and try and imagine that this place was once holy ground. Now it's a battleground, time and entropy versus the labor of the men of god. It is absolutely silent. The sounds of our world have been smothered by the crush of time in this world. And the feeling that you are being watched is stronger then ever, watched from all directions. Maybe it is time to go back.
But the last time we went a little further, and what we found was disturbing in a way it's hard to describe. A swimming pool, with a standing bathhouse. A staggered chain link fence bent flat decades ago. And the pool is full of water. Water under an inches thick green scum. The overhanging branches and vines dip into the water, it looks all the world like a jungle lagoon except for the ladder. Don't think of what could be under that water, of what could have been dumped there. And try not to wonder how this can all be here, an open swimming pool in the middle of the woods with no fence, no warning signs. How can all this property be here and unknown, what's protecting it? Why does that pool beckon you, and why are you so afraid to go into the bathhouse?
It's probably time to go. You've been here too long. Through the cemetery, down through the ruins of the greenhouse, around the gaping grinning mouths of Hell House itself, back thought the jungle and down the stairs. When you reach the train tracks the sun will be bright and it will seem unreal. You made it back out, of course you did, this is only Ellicott City after all. You didn't see the one thing I saw the last time I was there. I won't say where it was. I don't want any one else finding it. In the woods. An open well. The old fashioned, waist high meter wide stone well. Open to the sky. A "Ringu" style well. I looked down onto it. And unlike a well with straight sides, the hole stretched wide below the ground, and maybe twenty feet down was the surface of the water. If you fell in, or if something pushed you in, there would be no way at all to climb out. And no one alive to hear your screams as you treaded water in that black hole under the ground of Hell House.
Words and Pictures by J Mystery |
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HELL'S HISTORY |
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On a ridge overlooking the Patapsco River, above a nearly burned-out paper mill, perch the ruins of St. Mary’s College. From Ilchester Road, the crumbling shell of the main building is best visible in the winter, when the bare branches reveal the remains of the five story school. Until a fire on the first of November in 1997, this austere structure was somewhat more intact, a haven for plucky local teenagers to explore, but today the emptiness of the window frames and the contrast of black char against red brick make the place seem even more awe-inspiring. Once, the college, which today is known affectionately as "Hell House" by area residents, was not creepy at all. Rather, it was a place of learning for hundreds of young Roman Catholic men. St. Mary’s served as a preparatory school for prospective seminary students. Built in 1867-8 by the order of the Redemptorists, the college, originally named Mount St. Clemens, was erected on the site of what had once been the property of one of the enterprising Ellicott brothers, in the mill town of Ilchester. Only a few miles down river of Ellicott City and along the B&O Railroad line, the site provided an ideal spot for the Redemptorist brothers: it was secluded enough on the wooded ridge, and yet was accessible for deliveries. The name of the school was changed to St. Mary’s in 1882, when a new chapel on the campus was dedicated to St. Mary, Our Lady of Perpetual Help. The chapel became the site for a Catholic parish for Ilchester residents. The school was closed after dwindling attendance in 1972. The Redemptorists removed the parish to the modern building of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, further along on Ilchester Road. At the top of an adjacent hill remains the original parish cemetery, with a gate that reads "St. Mary’s Cemetery." Recently, the OLPH parish and school have been relinquished to the custody of the Baltimore Archdiocese. In the foyer of the modern church are some remnants from Old St. Mary’s, including stained glasswork. In 1987, part of the school property, including the buildings, was sold to private interests, and a the rest given to the State of Maryland. According to internet sources, the buildings were bought in 1988 by Sateesh Kumar Singh, under the titles BCS Limited Partnership and Kamakoti & Tirupati Foundation. Mr. Singh apparently hoped to turn the facility into a non sectarian retreat center. Mr. Singh was also apparently responsible for the introduction of one of the Hell House legend’s mainstays, Allen Rufus Hudson. Dark-haired and unkept, "Rufus" served as the caretaker of St. Mary’s. Armed with a shotgun and two rottweilers, Rufus terrified legions of curious trespassers. In May 1996, Rufus was arrested for assault and battery with attempt to murder after having shot one such adventurer in the side. However, Rufus seems to have stayed on, from the evidence of rumored sightings. The next mention of the caretaker occurs in a news article after the fire in 1997, in which police are cited as having ordered his departure because of the unsafe post-fire conditions.
Today, there is no evidence of the frightening caretaker and his dogs, and the main danger in a Hell House trip is the possibility of being found by the police or having your trip spoiled by gangs of teenagers. A climb up the creepy concrete stairs takes you to the grand and imposing ruins of the main building. Several outbuildings also remain, including a greenhouse, garage, a pool and shower facility, and the ruined shrine of what was once the brothers’ burying place. These stand testimony to the history of what was once considered to be a sacred yet active college. Perhaps the best time to visit Hell House is during the sunlit hours. On many weekend nights, caravans of "kid cars" line Ilchester Road, and the atmosphere is ruined by troops of smoking boys and their belly-shirted girlfriends. The remains of St. Mary’s contain enough eeriness in themselves that the experience is not lessened by the afternoon sun. At this time, the quiet and picturesque beauty of the place can also be appreciated. An excellent web site with more information about St. Mary’s College is located at: http://ann.stubbornlights.org/stmarys/ by Kat |
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