Early in November, Matt, Salt and I decided to check out a hospital that Matt and I had recently visited with Chas. The following is a true story from that day, however far-fetched it may seem. The quotes are exact, or close to, and the situation is real. I know that some people don’t seem to believe it, but I’m not really sure exactly why. I don’t like making up stories, and frankly, I doubt I’d be very good at it. With that said, read on. Take what you will from this chronicle. Believe it or not, I don’t much care.

The last time we went to the hospital we saw an old man walking his dogs around the hospital. He didn't see us, as we were inside. Tonight we drove into the grounds and saw the same man again. As we pulled in he stopped walking and looked in our direction. I was nervous, and afraid we might be in trouble until we got out and he politely said, “Your headlights are on”. I felt pretty sure that he wasn’t planning on calling the police. We discussed the building's history for a few minutes. Built in 1923, he said. Spanish-style architecture.

"I wouldn't go in there”, he said. "Lots of asbestos".

Matt and Salt started wandering off snapping pics.

"I've been walking my dogs here twice a day for... well, many years." he said, unprovoked, as he looked away towards the hospital.

"They sent people here to die." he looked back towards me. "Tuberculosis mostly. People came here to be put on a slab and buried."

I nodded to acknowledge I was listening.

"Once you heard someone was in a county hospital, you knew they were done for. That's it. The end." he said this almost as if the words coming out of his mouth were ones he used on a daily basis; and they probably were. "So when my brother landed here after coming home from Vietnam..." he stopped and chuckled "Well, we cried like babies until the very end. Agent Orange.”

I shook my head in disapproval.

"But anyway" he said after a short silence "Not like nothin' good came outta this place."

"yeah?" I asked.

"While my brother was... well, umm, sick... she was the head nurse of his ward. Beautiful woman. Sharp as a knife. I loved her from that first day on. She helped me through a lot of really tough stuff. I guess then it's too bad I couldn't help her..." he stopped and started slowly walking. I followed. "Eventually her work caught up with her. She was a saint. Beautiful," he shook his head and scowled "beautiful." The mood seemed to change when he said he had been inside a few times since it closed. He laughed about it when he brought it up, joking about the damage the building has suffered. He stopped himself from chuckling then looked away.

"I wouldn't go in there", he said again with a small smile, but more for himself than anyone else.

"Empty halls and broken memories."

The novel-esque part of the chronicle ends there, but the day does not. We continued to talk about asylums, and he told me some stories about other friends of his landing in various hospitals around the state. He had visited Danvers State Hospital several months before the closing, and had many wonderful conversations with a friend under a large tree on the grounds of Foxboro State Hospital. He never said what the conversations were about, or what his friend was there for, just, “Sometimes, bad things happen to good soldiers”.

He left us with a warning that police often patrol the grounds. Several minutes later we were greeted by the bright spotlight of a police cruiser. The officer was nice, and said we would get better photos in the early afternoon sun… of course that was after convincing him that we were appalled by just the mere thought of being inside an abandoned building.

At his suggestion we left for the night, and returned a few days later with Chas to get those good early afternoon shots.

~Keti Fallout