Cropsey – The Abandoned Facility and the Children’s Names
It was an abandoned facility on the outskirts of Staten Island.
By day, it looked like an old hospital building.
At night, it was something else entirely.
Most windows were shattered, walls covered in graffiti.
Behind the building, the forest had overgrown, hiding the paths.
My friend switched on his flashlight.
“Kids here grew up hearing it. If you go into the woods, Cropsey takes you.”
I laughed.
“Just another boogeyman story.”
My friend didn’t laugh.
“That’s the problem. At first it was just a story. Then kids really started disappearing.”
The atmosphere shifted.
We entered the building.
Broken glass littered the floor, old files lay soaked and clumped.
One room still had iron bed frames.
Another had a door ripped off from the inside.
I shone my light on the wall.
Among the graffiti were children’s names.
At first, I thought it was a prank.
But each name had a date.
Different handwriting.
Some old, some added later.
My friend whispered, “Don’t film this.”
I already had my phone out.
Then came a sound deeper inside.
Metal scraping.
Screeeech.
Like someone dragging a rusty tool along the wall.
We froze.
“Maybe a homeless guy?” another friend said.
That was worse.
A ghost would make sense.
But if it was a person,