Over the course of my life, I have encountered many eerie locations that have given me the chills. Despite all those fearful situations, only three places have ever successfully handicapped my lungs from providing oxygen to my heart. I could not begin to predict the events that would occur when I decided to visit a jail hostel, a cemetery, or a cellar. Until these visits, I have never been frozen from head to toe, unable to conduct a move. My previous hair raising experiences are practically nonexistent compared to my journey to The Ottawa Jail Hostel, the Garden Cemetery, or a friend's basement cellar. To begin, the first place that is soon going to put goose bumps on my skin is the Ottawa Jail Hostel. In order to reach the hostel I
A colossal black gate assimilates the surrounding space as the entrance comes into full view. At nine feet tall, deteriorating bars of iron tower over me, insisting my height is negligible in comparison. Thick, thorn covered vines twist around each bar as if to alter any visitor's desire to enter. Following the vines, two large hinged posts hold the metal bars in an upright position. The hinges radiate a high frequency scream as the varying wind open and closes the gate. In an effort to bare my ringing eardrums, my teeth painfully clench together. As I peer through the holes of the metal bars, a daunting sign labelled "no trespassing" stands. Despite the worrisome warning, my heart pounds against my chest as I decide to walk through the threatening entrance of the Garden Cemetery. Soon I find myself in the dark core of the graveyard. A supernatural atmosphere hits me like a brick wall. Even the name of the graveyard is bizarre, as no gardens and almost no living objects exist. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I shudder from the wind now roaring around me. Facing the wind, I find it difficult to keep my eyes open. Even through my squinted view I can see tombstones scattered in an unorganized fashion. These masses of rock are chipped and crumbling, decorated with pieces of dead moss. The decomposing landscape seems as though not a single soul has been here for years on