Exploring Abandoned Asylums and Forgotten Institutions

 Kings Park Psychiatric Center, Kings Park, New York

If you listen carefully to the voice of history, echoes of despair echo from the abandoned corridors of abandoned institutions, where debt-laden souls were mercilessly put into cold prisons. The grim legacy endured as the shadow of mental illness took hold of others, drawing them into the desolate embrace of institutional walls. Within these cold confines, the weight of cognitive disorders became a silent torment, an indomitable force driving residents into bleak isolation. Suffering from specific infectious diseases, some were left marooned, left to wither in the solitude of abandonment. Today, these eerie structures stand as poignant monuments to human suffering, lonely sentinels scattered across desolate landscapes, silent witnesses to forgotten and abandoned chapters of our shared past.

Come explore the desolate remains of these abandoned institutions and asylums, where eerie solitude and abandonment permeate every crumbling brick and echoing corridor.

The Kings Park Psychiatric Center emerged in 1885 as a solution to the overcrowding of Brooklyn hospitals. Nevertheless, an unforgiving report of 1893 revealed the horrifying truth: "unfit and unhygienic buildings, inadequate facilities, inadequate and poor quality clothing, and often food unfit for human consumption." The solitude within those walls became an oppressive force that engulfed all who passed through its gates. Authorities put individuals into asylums for minor crimes such as lacking the means to care for themselves or giving birth to a child out of wedlock.

Within the sinister embrace of King's Park, doctors are engaged in horrific practices disguised as cures. The hostility extended to orderlies who used pillows as suffocation devices, snuffing out the faintest spark of life from their tortured victims. The facility reached horrific heights, with 9,300 souls imprisoned at once. The horrific legacy of the Kings Park Psychiatric Center finally ended in the 1950s. Nevertheless, the building stands as a testament to the individuals who lived there.

In the quiet of its demise in May 2018, Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital remains a prominent figure in South Korea's haunted history, its macabre story woven into the fabric of its mysterious past. Built in the 1970s, the building was a psychiatric hospital and a repository of tragic and mysterious stories.

Things turned sour in the 1990s when there was disagreement over the sewage system. The owner and director clashed over whether to upgrade or not, leading to the hospital's closure. As whispers spread of the director's death and the owner's escape to America, Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital became the stuff of local legends, an unsettling enigma in the landscape.

After the building closed, the broken windows and decaying walls became nature's way of saying, "I'm taking over." Mother Nature decided to turn this space into her own avant-garde art project, complete with vines, weeds and a touch of existential despair. The saboteurs played the role of intruding spirits, breaking windows and scattering fragments across lifeless floors.

In the late 1800s, a team of builders poured their heart and soul into creating Beelitz Heilstätten as a tranquil spa, sans gaudy clothing, for people battling tuberculosis.

World War I devastated the party and suddenly, Bielitz Heilstätten received a military makeover. Adolf Hitler came to a pit stop after being wounded in the thigh at the Battle of the Somme. After World War II, the Soviets took over the reins and turned the place into a military base for almost 50 years. In 1994, the Soviets packed their bags and left Bielitz Heilstetten to its own devices.

Fast forward to the new millennium, where a group of heroes decide to save some buildings from the clutches of decay. Meanwhile, the rest of the property continued a slow dance with decline, perhaps practicing the "Macarena" of disrepair. Bielitz Heilstätten is not just a crumbling relic. This is the hot spot of Hollywood. Thanks to its advanced state of decay, this spot has starred in cinematic gems like “The Pianist,” “Dark,” and “The Hunger Games: Mockingjay,” proving that Bielitz Heilstätten is one rad from tuberculosis. Can go up to carpet-worthy. Decay fantastic.

Opened around 1900, the Ellis Island Hospital complex rose from the island's shore like a lone guardian. It hosted several hospitals where Uncle Sam could hide immigrants suspected of spreading diseases. Hopeful immigrants trying to achieve the American dream often find themselves in a dilemma in the hospital. A lucky few received a golden ticket to recovery and were allowed to enter a free country. Others got a one-way ticket back to where they came from. Ellis Island Hospital Complex did a great job of treating those in need while playing the role of bouncer to ensure the safety of the public.

In 1954, the immigration center, including the hospital complex, was banned. Today, curious souls can embark on a historical journey through the remains of this complex at the Ellis Island National Immigration Museum because nothing can call a vacation better than exploring the ruins of bureaucratic decisions.

The Harlem Valley Psychiatric Center, located in Wingdale, New York, built in 1924, was to house inmates, but protests from locals halted that plan. Therefore, the complex was transformed into a psychiatric hospital. It became a self-contained world consisting of 80 buildings. There was a dairy farm teasing the taste buds with its ice cream parlor, a bakery that was relaxing, a bowling alley echoing with laughter, and a stained glass chapel offering a tranquil escape. Nevertheless, doctors equipped with lobotomies and electro-shock therapy plied their trade within these walls. It was the kind of place where you half expect to see Hitchcock directing a movie about mental health called "Psychotherapy."

As you wander through the ghost town that used to be a campus, you can practically hear the crickets singing in the air, composing a sad song of academic neglect. Yet part of it has found a new purpose as an educational campus, a reminder that even in isolation there is room for reinvention.

If you ever decide to stroll the halls of Medfield State Hospital, a former psychiatric hospital, be prepared for an atmosphere that will make its eerie quiet seem like a raucous game of Pictionary. The place seems practically abandoned. Not in the cool, charming, urban-exploring Instagram kind of way, but wander here for the free Wi-Fi vibe like ghosts.

The halls are emptier than a bank account after a weekend of online shopping. It's like the set of a low-budget horror movie where the ghosts have an even lower budget and they're using shadows for special effects. And let's not forget the Richardsonian Romanesque architecture as nothing says scarier than a grand main building with dilapidated walls that has seen more drama than a soap opera. It's as if the building itself says, "I've been through enough, okay? Cut me some slack." Excessive vegetation reclaiming the landscape is nature's way of saying, "Yeah, we'll take it from here, humans."

In 1906, Morisset Hospital opened its doors, leaving a nightmarish story carved into the bricks of its building. But, as fate would have it, the hospital soon found itself sinking into the chaos of overcrowding, with what was supposed to be a haven turning into a lonely abyss of suffering. Amidst overcrowded wards and scarce resources, residents suffering from mental illnesses faced a harrowing life. It was like trying to find personal space in a room where privacy is just a distant memory, and personal care feels like a ghost you glimpse but can never reach. The struggle was physically and emotionally arduous, a daily battle against the overwhelming tide. Punitive specters that insisted on control and confinement obscured any hope of therapeutic intervention. The possibility of rehabilitation became a distant echo in the corridors of the place where nightmares became a horrifying reality. It's as if the hospital has accidentally signed up for the horror bundle instead of the mental wellness package.