Keep Out
Copyright © 2005, The Ladd School.com - Written by The Curator

A silent and remote lightning occasionally flickered in the distance as we drove through Exeter on the night of our first entry; Appropriately so, considering our destination, about which I still knew very little.

Up until late this particular evening, I had seen the Ladd School only once when, in my youth, a friend took me to this place of shadow and brick, dark and empty on manicured lawns; I didn't know what or where it was then though I can see it now, in my minds eye, at the edge of my known world, the substance of urban legends, a mute and sinister dreamscape like a nightmare come solid.

But youth, like the memory, is fickle, and so, I had barely ever given it a second thought. That is, until late one night a week ago, when, sitting on a bench at Dead Babies Park, Dave told us about his weekend tresspasses at the Ladd School after dark. By the time of our parting that evening, Dave had agreed, with some persuasion, to take us there the following weekend. So, we gathered our flashlights, cameras, and backpacks - now we were driving up the main road that runs through the center of the property like a concrete artery. Jacquie is at the wheel, and Dave says, "Turn off the headlights."

We drove slowly in the dark, off the paved street and across the corner of a vast lawn, onto a crumbling road. After a succession of confused turns, Dave points to a dark shape, and as we draw nearer, a maze of red brick walls materializes before us. The car comes to a stop, and Jacquie turns off the engine.

We step outside quietly: the clicking of closing car doors, our low voices, the crunching of broken glass beneath our step - these are the sounds that echo back at us from what seems like a labyrinth of long, dark, outdoor corridors. There is a moment of hesitation among us, as though lost in a fleeting trance, our precarious location assuming a hallucinatory aura, the scene super-imposed on the dark face of a dream we shared - but this reality though far removed was no dream, for there we were; the car, the woods, and what stood before us - boarded windows and doors, and in the dim glow of a muted flashlight I can read a sign spraypainted in white across one of the doors: KEEP OUT.

Dave explains how some doors will be locked some nights, and not on others - like this, we would find even on future entries, the buildings seemed to toy with their visitors. Tonight, and hopeful, we tried many doorknobs, until finally when pulling on one, our hearts jumped as the door came free, unleashing a current of mildewed air drifting out from a dark expanse within.

[ Return To Top]