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Evenfall Reformatory

AKA: The Adolescent Purgatory

By Brin J.Published 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 25 min read
Picture found on Pinterest :).

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." Chris angles the flashlight at his face for a dramatic ending.

"Bro, I was expecting something scary," Nick complains without taking his eyes off the road. "Not once did you mention a ghost. This place better not be lame."

He scoffs at Nick, offended. "It won't be. Have I ever let you down?"

"Yes." I deadpan.

He lifts a finger. "One time. You both need to get over it."

Nick's jaw drops. "The hike was boring. We never saw any of the scary things rumored to be there. Can you blame us for doubting you?"

"And we got caught by a cop," I add bitterly, glaring at him through a sideways glance.

"Well, you wanted to be scared. You guys got your wish you both nearly pissed yourselves when you saw him, so I call it a success."

I shake my head, wondering how I got myself involved with these two as he cackles in the back seat.

Last year we were brought together by a mutual interest in creepy things. When this fall semester began, we felt adventurous and started doing night hikes. We did it every Saturday up until a few weekends ago when we went to Darkstar Canyon. It has a reputation for murders, cult-rituals, and there's a rumored abandoned school bus that fell into the canyon during a freak accident. Curious college kids sneak in regularly to explore the place after dark for the same reasons we did- it gets our blood pumping. The trail isn't privately owned, but signs make it clear the place is off-limits. A large 'Enter at your own risk' disclaimer stands at the entrance, alerting people that if anything happens to them once inside, the government won't be liable. It's to ward off rebellious teens like us, only it didn't work. If anything, it fueled our defiance.

Because of the supposed cultists and murderers, we showed up prepared with metal baseball bats and pepper spray. Only none of that was needed. We didn't come across anything but rabbits. The whole experience was such a letdown, and to make matters worse, a cop had been waiting for us near Nick's silver truck when we returned. He held us for half an hour, questioning us about our weapons and why we were there. Eventually, he let us go with a warning, but it terrified me. I can't get anything on my record or my dreams of a political career are gone.

I'm still furious about it, and I can't believe I agreed to do this again. I promised myself after that incident I wouldn't join them anymore on these childish escapades. But I was going stir-crazy sitting in my room, watching my crush like a creep as she posted on her social media about her outing with her friends. I had an insane thought to pretend to run into them so I could join her. My unhealthy obsession is new. I don't normally get like this, so it scared me, and I asked Nick if he wanted to hang out tonight as a distraction. Unfortunately, Nick and Chris are dormmates, and Chris jumped on the opportunity to take us on another nighttime adventure. I said no. I was adamant until Nick started leaning towards the idea since it sounded like the best thing to do on Halloween night, and sadly Nick and Chris are the only friends I've made since coming to Dartmouth. Not to mention I enjoyed these thrill-seeking sprees up until this past one, and I knew it'd take my mind off Erika. So I told Chris wherever we went had to be far enough away that our chances of running into cops were zero. He already had a place in mind around an hour's drive from town.

The GPS on Chris' iPhone dings, hauling me from my musings. "Turn left at the next opening."

Hearing his device brings my attention to my own. The sinking weight of it feels like a brick in my back pocket. My fingers fidget with a button on my sleeve as I try to ignore its existence. The compelling urge to check my Instagram to see Erika in her hot Wonder Woman costume is making me twitchy. Almost there. I assure myself.

"There?" Nick questions skeptically indicating a blue waypost that's seen better days. I squint my eyes as I try to read what it says, but the wood is so faded and weathered, I'm unable to make out anything.

"What is this place again?"

"Hold on." Chris quickly flips through his phone. "Got it. I found it on freakyplaces.com. Apparently, the lodge used to be a hidden safe haven for runaways during the Civil War. Southerners discovered it one day and torched it with everyone inside. The skeleton of the cabin is all that's remaining. The website says the candle burning conveys the tortured spirits have not forgotten what was done to them."

I swallow. The guilt of disturbing their peace for selfish reasons eats at me like a starving parasite.

The GPS dings again, instructing us to turn.

Nick slows his truck to a crawl as he veers left, driving straight into soupy mist. I rationalize it's because we are deep within the Gile Forest, where there's a body of water, eschewing ideas of paranormal activity.

The tension in the air becomes thick with unease as we strain to see out the window. Nick flips on his brights to get a clearer view and I rear in surprise- realizing the reason. It's not just mist encompassing us, but dense vegetation from the untrimmed branches. There's a strange eerieness to it, as though the forest is trying to conceal whatever lies ahead.

"Obviously no one comes here," I mumble.

"Means you don't have to worry about cops," Chris returns with a snarky tone.

"Well, gentlemen," Nick pipes as his truck pushes through the foliage. "let's see what awaits us."

The sounds of snaps and screeching replace the quiet as branches rub against Nick's truck. "Damn, there better not be any scratches, this baby is new."

"Dude, it's a 2012," Chris remarks offhandedly.

Nick tosses a mean look over his shoulder. "It's new to me; I just got it this summer."

As he drives deeper, the brush becomes less dense and the scraping lessens. Nick sighs, "Thank God."

"Until we drive through it again when we leave," Chris mutters flippantly under his breath.

Nick and I share annoyed looks. Chris can be a little insensitive. If it weren't for Nick, I doubt we'd be friends.

Suddenly, there's a loud crack that nabs Nick's attention and he slams on his breaks. "Woah!"

My stomach vaults into my throat. I throw my hand up to the dash to brace myself and look out the window. "Dude, what the..." An old cast-iron gate stands before us tightly wrapped in rusted chains. We are so close. I can discern even through the murky fog, that the paint that hasn't chipped or corroded is green.

Nick turns around to glare at Chris. "You could've warned me there'd be a gate."

Chris scrolls through his phone with furrowed brows. "I didn't know. No one in the comments says there is."

Nick thrusts his hand forward, gesturing at the gate. "Then explain this."

I peer through the passenger-side window to inspect the mysterious gate, and my eyes catch on a metal sign laying below it. "Chris, hand me your light."

"Here," he hands me the expensive tactical flashlight he purchased just for these shenanigans.

I aim the ridiculous flashlight at the iron-plated plaque. "Evenfall Reformatory. School for the disobedient." I read aloud.

"Reformatory?!" Nick exclaims and turns in his seat with a scowl, looking at Chris with a murderous expression. "Where the hell did you just bring us?"

I shift to look behind me, too, watching as Chris taps his phone in a panic. "I typed the directions the website gave me."

"Let me see that," Nick growls and snatches the phone out of his hand. I chew my thumb habitually, feeling apprehensive about this unexpected change in course as I wait for him to solve our dilemma. "Oh my- CHRIS!" I jump as Nick shouts. He turns the phone around to show us the screen. "You put in the wrong address! The street for the abandoned cabin is on Evenwood. You put Evenfall! How do you mess that up?" He tosses Chris' phone at him and faces forward, raking his fingers through his raven-colored hair under his backwards cap.

"What? It was an honest mistake, it could have happened to anyone." He shrugs, unbothered by Nick's reproach.

Nick expels a heavy breath. "Seriously? I can't even believe this dude. Just pull up the directions to get back to campus."

Chris jolts and leans forward. "Now, hold on. It's Halloween. We wanted to explore an abandoned building," He wiggles his blonde eyebrows suggestively, "why not this one?"

"You're kidding, right?" I laugh humorlessly. "Look at this place, it's locked, there's no way in. Plus, with all this fog, we can't see more than two feet in front of us. There might be nothing here."

Chris pauses a second, thoughtfully, before typing into his phone again. Mine is no longer at the forefront of my mind. All I can think about is getting far away from here.

"Holly cheeseburgers," Chris swears, chuckling darkly. "This place is nuts."

Nick turns, still glowering. "You googled it?"

"Yeah," Chris nods, brimming with glee. "I think we hit the Halloween jackpot. It's not even on freakyplaces.com that's how unknown this place is. But I found an old article written about it titled The Adolescent Purgatory."

I look at the plaque again, trepidation wedges in my throat, and I cough to clear it. "What does it say?"

Chris peers at me, sporting a twisted grin. "You scared, Dylan?"

"Just tell us what it says so we know where you led us." Nick snaps, sounding as irritated as I feel.

Chris lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright... Evenfall Reformatory opened in 1861 as a boys correctional institute developed due to societal concerns for criminal children with the intention of curing the boys of their delinquent behaviors. The youth detention center was closed in 1926 by the state after an anonymous tip expressed concern about the welfare of the boys within the reformatory. State officials investigated the school and found evidence of abuse, neglect, and murder." He stops, looking at us with wild eyes. "This sounds like our kind of fun."

"The article, Chris," Nick prompts.

Chris sulks petulantly and resumes reading. "In November 1926, there was a mutiny that resulted in the escape of 42 out of the 200 boys detained there. Three correctional officers were stabbed and killed during the break-out, while a nun obtained critical injuries. Within a few weeks, 41 out of the 42 boys were found and returned to the institute- all of which attained severe disciplining." He pauses to take an exaggerated inhale. "The punishments apparently led to a number of deaths. One of the practices used included drenching. They forced the soaked boys to remain outdoors during the frigid winter night where a majority of them died of hypothermia. Another form of punishment was gagging the boys before securing them to birching horses. They were defenseless as they were splayed and then beaten with hawthorn branches. Several perished from fatal lacerations."

"God," I cringe as I picture scared teens with bloodied backs.

"I know, disturbing right?" Chris asks with fascination. I grimace, not sure which disturbs me more, the story, or Chris' intrigue. "The last of the escapee boys underwent extreme physical torture which ultimately led to their deaths. Sadly, officials were late to save them, but arrived in time to see the end result, and notified the governor of its malpractices. He shut down the reformatory immediately, holding all employees responsible for the murders of the boys. Remaining prisoners were sent off to churches where they gladly served the rest of their sentences."

Nick folds his arms across his chest and huffs. "At least some made it out alive."

"Just wait, there's more," Chris announces ecstatically. Nick and I cast him incredulous gawks. "Shortly after its closure, officials discovered these casualties were not the first from the reformatory's violent disciplining. For the 65 years it had been active, over 500 out of 4000 boys had perished, and 82 were classified as missing. Six years later, the only survivor out of the 42 escapees, Rick Hanson, came forward as the individual behind the anonymous tip. Two days after his reveal, he returned to Evenfall Reformatory and hung himself. Speculations arose saying his guilt for not being able to prevent the brutal fates of the other 41 boys drove him to return and end his life."

"Jesus, this place sounds awful," Nick winces. I nod sullenly, unable to fathom the heinous acts.

"So are we doing this or what?" Chris presses, looking out the window like we just arrived at Disneyworld and not a torture prison for adolescent boys.

I groan, dragging my hand across my face. "Dude, what about the fact that it's locked don't you get?"

"Oh, please," Chris grunts as he fumbles with his backpack. "I know how to pick locks."

My eyes widen and I frantically shake my head. "No way. We are not going in there. Nick, help me out here."

Following his silence, I look over at him to see him contemplating Chris' suggestion. "Nick," He turns to look at me, his brown eyes considering. My heart palpitates. "This is a bad idea."

He twists so that he's looking at Chris. "Did we bring the bats?"

My face falls with my shock. Anxiety plants itself like a seed in my stomach, burrowing painfully as it begins to sprout.

"Yeah, I made sure before we left," Chris confirms, not even trying to mask his deranged excitement.

Nick nods and looks at me again. "Cool, we'll all take a bat just in case then. What's the worst that can happen?" He shuts off the engine, placing us in absolute darkness before opening his door and stepping out into the forest. A cold brush of light air skims my face and neck, producing a shiver.

Chris climbs out of the vehicle next, whooping, and laughing maniacally at the prospect of exploring unfamiliar territory. With rigid movements, I pull the handle of the door and dismount the truck after them.

Nick hands both of us metal baseball bats before shouldering his backpack. "As a precaution, I'm leaving the truck here. I know this place is abandoned but I don't want to risk bringing attention to it."

"And bringing attention to ourselves is okay?" I blurt, unable to prevent the brittle undertone.

Nick's brown sympathetic eyes meet mine. "Dylan, I know you're not one hundred percent on board with this but you're the one who wanted the distraction tonight, remember?"

I swallow the sour taste settling on my tongue, hating that he's right.

"It's working, isn't it?" Chris probes tauntingly, then leans forward, getting into my face. "Erika who?" He goads before slinking over to the giant rusty gate.

I grind my teeth as Nick and I follow him, regretting telling them about Erika and reminding myself to not let him get under my skin. If he sees a reaction, his teasing will intensify.

Chris squats in front of the gate and looks up at me impatiently. "You have the light, Dylan. Point it so I can see what I'm doing."

Reluctantly, I do as he says, and watch as he uses the small sharp instruments to pick the hulking padlock. It takes a minute before we hear a click followed by the lock and chains going slack. He gives a triumphant roar before removing the chain from the gate. "See?" He arrogantly beams with a self-approving smirk. "Not a problem." He kicks open the gate and it makes an ear-splitting creaking sound that has us all recoiling.

Chris chortles, "Whoops," then directs our small group through the gate. I resentfully trail in behind him.

After a minute of walking, Nick breaks the silence. "Chris, why don't I take the lead? You're probably going to walk us off a cliff."

Chris abruptly stops dead in his tracks, making me almost collide with him. "No. Not a cliff. Something better." He retorts smugly. I raise the expensive flashlight to see what he's referring to. When I comprehend what we're looking at, I nearly drop it.

The skeleton of a single giant hawthorn tree stands in front of us with a familiar name etched into its trunk.

"R.I.P. Rick Hanson. 1912 to 1932." Nick recites and cranes his neck to examine the looming dead tree. "This must be where he hung himself." As though confirming Nick's speculation, it groans, and we all step back.

Chris pulls out his phone. "We should document this."

Nick proceeds forth while uttering, "You do that."

I keep close to Nick, avoiding walking directly under the tree as we pass it. After a moment, I look over my shoulder to find Chris following with his phone out and recording. A split second later, he swears. "Crap. My battery just died."

Nick quickly pulls out his phone. "Weird, I wasn't using mine but it says seventeen percent. I also have no signal." He looks at us with annoyance. "That might be why."

They both turn in my direction. Chris stares at me expectantly. "I can check yours if you don't trust yourself."

Rolling my eyes, I withdraw my phone. To my surprise, Erika left me three messages. Chris peeks over my hand and sees them, then raises a brow. "Tempted?" Ignoring him, I look at the top to check my battery life. "Thirty-four percent." Chris snickers as I lock my phone and shove it back into my pocket.

"Alright, we won't stay long then," Nick asserts, giving Chris a stony expression daring him to argue.

Chris shrugs, "Fine by me."

As we resume our trek, I pointlessly scan our surroundings with Chris' flashlight, frustrated that the overpriced hardware ineffectively punctures the dense fog.

Nick suddenly loses his footing and falls forward, crashing onto the ground. He grunts while clutching his ankle. "Something tripped me." Unnerved, I aim the flashlight down to investigate and a shock of icy alarm injects into my veins.

"Steps," Chris observes aloud in awe.

"How did I not see them?" Nick rasps. I grab hold of his arm to help him onto his feet.

"Can you put weight on it?" I ask, pointing the light at his leg.

He tests it and hisses through his teeth before readjusting his weight. "Not a lot, but enough that I can walk on my own."

I nod, remembering what my mom taught me from years of experience as a nurse. "I don't think you sprained it, just slightly rolled it. It will be uncomfortable to walk on but I don't think you'll need medical attention."

"Thank God." He sighs and lifts his head. His face instantly blanches. "Looks like we found it."

I slowly tilt the light upwards, finally noticing the building, and catch sight of an open door ahead of us. A cold prickle moves up my spine, hazarding me to leave.

"Let's go!" Chris hollers as he races forward.

"Wait, Nick's ankle." I protest. "We shouldn't be doing this with an injury."

Chris spins with a withering glare. "What's with all the excuses, Dylan? If you're too chicken then wait here. We'll explore without you."

I open my mouth to tell him off when Nick stops me. "It's fine. I'm still able to walk. I'll just use my bat as a cane." He flashes me a prideful smile and I yield, knowing I'm in a losing argument.

With cautious steps, we ascend the stairs, Chris once again leading the group. He removes his backpack and pulls out a second flashlight. "Careful, it's hard to see." He winks at Nick.

"Keep it up, Chris. Don't forget I'm your ride home." Nick volleys, unamused.

Chris throws his head back, barking a laugh as he enters. Even with his light, the darkness quickly swallows him as he walks over the threshold.

Gulping, I point my light at the doorway. "Nick, you should go next." He makes no complaint as he limps forward and willingly disappears into the void.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise when a low inhuman growl resounds behind me. "Trespasserssss."

I swivel, shining my light on the turbid mist, and swear for a moment I thought I saw the hawthorn tree... with a figure standing under it.

"Dylan!" Chris' startling shout makes me flinch and lose hold of the flashlight. It claps loudly as it hits the stone ground, puncturing the chilling silent atmosphere. I quickly pick it up and rush inside to join them.

"Did you drop the flashlight?" Chris asks, examining his precious equipment.

I rub my head, questioning if my fear is making me hallucinate. "I thought I heard something."

"Yeah, me." Chris points to himself. "Can we do this already?"

"Lead the way." I motion for him as I internally berate myself for my pathetic reaction. It was probably just the fog messing with my eyes. There's no reason to be afraid.

Chris and I both scan the area with our flashlights as we move deeper into the deserted institution. Glass, debris, and chunks of broken drywall cover most of the walkway, making each of our steps sound like dragging feet while kicking dust into the air. My nose crinkles as I inhale a strong acrid scent of mold and sour decay.

We eventually come across a long hallway that, even with both flashlights, doesn't illuminate more than a few yards ahead of us. Chris zeros his flashlight at a placard on the wall by its entrance. "Classrooms 1-20. Restrooms. Reflection Room."

Nick hobbles over to it. "What's a Reflection Room?"

Chris' face contorts into a shifty smile. "Let's go find out."

Panic coiled tightly in my chest, stealing my air. Why do I feel like I'm not going to like what I find in that room?

This time Nick is the one who pilots our journey, keeping a steady pace with his limp. On our right, we come across our first door. The number 1 is carved into it.

"We should check out the classroom." Chris practically bounces as he turns the knob and pushes open the door. Without waiting for Nick or me, he strides inside.

"This guy is going to get himself killed one day," Nick mutters, following him in. I hesitate, a strange sense of danger squeezes my gut, and I turn to look behind me. A flash of movement catches my eye, making my stomach lurch. Instinctively, I careen backward and trip over my feet. My breath punches out of me as I slam onto the floor.

Nick stands above me. "Dude? What happened?" I point the flashlight into the hallway, but nothing's there. "I swear I saw something." I wheeze.

Chris moves to the door to investigate. "Oh my GOD!" He screams and jumps away. I crawl back in a panic. "It's Erika!"

He and Nick both burst into laughter. I fume while scrambling to my feet. "You're such a prick, Chris."

He slaps his knee as he gasps for air. "Aw come on, it was funny."

Nick stops laughing and looks at me apologetically. "It was funny, but you're right, Chris is also a prick."

I roll my eyes at them, turning my attention to the classroom, or, what was once a classroom. Desks arranged in perfect rows bolted to the floor rot with mold. Broken windows allow a cool breeze to enter, ventilating the musty air. Half the ceiling dangles in the back part of the room. Its black gaping hole looks like a portal to the abyss. My mouth dries.

"We should get moving if we plan to see more of this place," Nick announces, making his way towards the door.

"Yes, please." Chris groans and trudges out behind him. Once again I take up the rear and scan the hallway neurotically.

As we pass the rest of the classrooms, I notice some have missing doors or holes in the walls, giving us a clear view of what's inside. They're not all that different from the first, just more or less corroded.

Once we pass the final classroom, the temperature in the corridor drops ten degrees. "Who turned on the AC?" Chris jokes, but it's half-hearted. My heart rate kicks up. If Chris loses his cool, then we're truly in trouble.

While sweeping my flashlight across the hall, a streak of red catches my eye, and I focus my light on it. Nick's steps falter as he spots it, too, and we all come to a halt. "That's an ominous-looking door." He mumbles barely above a whisper.

I wipe the moisture off my forehead as I break into a cold sweat. "Exactly what I'd expect from a Reflection Room."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Chris asks, trying to mask his nerves with feigned confidence.

Nick takes a tentative step forward. "Let's just get this over with and leave." There was an alarming edge of fear in his tone. Dread gnawed at my insides as I forced my stiff legs to move- Chris keeping close behind me.

Nick grips the handle, as tight as he holds his bat. The atmosphere becomes so mute you could hear a pin drop. We all hold our breath as he gradually turns the knob and swings the door open.

I gag as the rancid stench of spoiled meat and sour body odor invades my senses.

"Ugh, what is that smell?" Chris heaves and covers his face with his arm. Nick coughs while lifting his shirt over his nose attempting to block the offensive odor.

"Something we don't need to investigate." I retch as my bowels toss with nausea.

Ignoring my advice, Chris staggers into the room. Nick and I grudgingly followed suit.

My breath chokes out of me in a strangled gasp when I instantly pinpoint the cause of the foul smell. Corpses of decayed rodents litter the entire room, pervading the enclosed confines.

The next thing I notice is an altar surrounded by countless melted candles. And lying in front of it is a closed rectangular box that closely resembles a coffin.

I reel with horror. Was sealing the boys inside of it their idea of reflecting?

"What's in there?" Chris asks, poking the box with his bat.

Icy touches of warning stroked my spine. "Chris do-" The words die in my throat as the box begins shaking aggressively. The sound of fingernails scraping sends a fresh dose of angst coursing through my veins. All of us stand there motionless from fear when suddenly the lid catapults off the coffin.

Chris belches a guttural scream as hundreds of rats emerge from the box in an angry hoard. We swing our bats to deflect them as they swarm in our direction. Then, the unbelievable happens. All the candles ignite at once just as a decomposing hand grips the box's opening.

At first, I'm frozen, paralyzed by shock at what I'm witnessing.

"RUN!" Nick's shout breaks me from my stupor. He turns and books it back down the hall. Chris and I don't hesitate to join him and sprint blindly through the corridor.

We fly past classrooms in a blur, hysteria mounted in every step. Terror claws at my throat when I hear pounding footsteps rushing after us. "We're being chased!" I yell, picking up speed. Nick begins groaning. "My ankle is killing me."

"Keep running." I urge with alarm.

"Your foot can't kill you!" Chris shouts, pumping his arms beside me. "That thing will!"

Behind us, riotous crashes along with a deafening demonic roar shakes the foundation. "Repent!"

My blood curdles with dread but panic fuels my legs into a sprint.

"It wants to birch us!" Chris shrieks.

We run for what feels like forever when suddenly Nick exhaustedly shouts, "Up ahead!"

My relief when I see the entrance immediately vanishes as howls of cataclysmic devastation echo throughout the establishment. The tormented death cries blare all around us until we burst through the doorway.

We fly down the steps while bolting from the compound. As we pass the hawthorn tree I do a double-take and lose hold of the flashlight. The shadowy figure from earlier stands under it- its neck warped at an odd angle.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Chris yelps.

"I think it's Rick," Nick croaks as we dive through the rusty gate, not bothering to close it as we clamor into his truck.

Thinking we were safe, I sag in my seat. That is until a cacophony of high-pitched wails travels to us from within the prison, followed by a wave of thick murky fog- barreling towards us.

"DRIVE!" Chris demands as Nick clumsily handles his keys. "I'm trying!" Nick shoves his key into the ignition just as the fog reaches the gates. My stomach climbs into my throat as the mist takes the form of a giant angry visage. "REPENT!" It blares in an infernal multi-voice.

"NICK!" Chris and I squall simultaneously. Propelled into motion, he quickly turns the key and then forcefully shifts into reverse before flooring the gas pedal. The hellish institute along with the unholy spirits begin to fade with our increasing distance.

We drive in silence as we catch our breaths, too stunned to speak. While making sense of what just happened, I pull out my phone to read Erika's earlier texts. My heart stops as I'm struck with chagrin, seething inwardly. If I had just waited before rashly calling Nick tonight, I would've noticed Erika's texts inviting me to join her, and this all could have been avoided.


About the Creator

Brin J.

I never believed the sky is the limit, therefore my passions are expansive. My interest in writing stemmed from poetry but my heart lead me to Sci-Fi Fantasy. Consequently, my stories are plot-driven with splashes of evocative elements.

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