The Real Story Behind Silent Hill And Six Other Ghost Towns You Can *Actually* Visit Today
What if you woke up one day and everyone had just disappeared?
No white noise from cars roaring down the motorway. No clatter of people putting out their bins. No yelling from that about-to-get-divorced-please-get-on-with-it couple down the road. Just silence. The population of your entire town vanished into thin air.
But by far the most terrifying thing about this scenario is that it’s happened. Ghost towns (and cities or villages) are a very real fact of life, often attributed to natural disasters or a slump in economic activity.
This inherent fear has gone on to inspire many urban legends, campfire stories and horror films. In fact, it’s the basis for one of the most infamous horror franchises that defined the survival horror genre.
Today, we’re talking about Silent Hill.
Silent Hill is a horror media franchise consisting of no less than thirteen video games, two films, at least four cancelled titles and a handful of comics. First released in 1999 in Japan, the franchise has taken over the world. Its heavy reliance on psychological horror, in particular, has earned it the reputation of one of the scariest franchises, with the second instalment being recognised as the most terrifying.
The video games, films and print media mostly centre around a mysterious town in New England called Silent Hill where an Asceticist cult (they abstain from any sexual activity) are doing culty things, like reviving deities. Mix in a couple infamous monsters, from over-sexualised zombie-like nurses, to leggy-crabby-things, to infamous Pyramid Head and you got yourself an icon.
Some instalments do take place in other locations, but for the most part the player sticks around in a small, foggy, empty town that typically is reminiscent of a Japanese-American hybrid town. And this trademark village has been traced back directly to several real towns like Cushing, Snoqualmie and Centralia in the States.
While Cushing is, by all means, a simple, small town, the latter two have far more spooky reputations.
Snoqualmie is dripping in history, and a dark one, of tensions between settlers and Native Americans. Even the name of this town in Washington means “ferocious people”, denoted to those that once owned the land. While it doesn’t have any obvious mysterious attributes, its aesthetic has also inspired other horror franchises with Twin Peaks filming in Snoqualmie and its neighbouring towns.
Centralia, on the other hand, is drenched in mystery. This ghost town - with a mere five people living there in 2017 - was claimed under eminent domain (basically, the state can take private property without consent) in 1992. Why? Well, in 1962, some firefighters were commissioned to set local landfill on fire and let it burn. But the fire was unextinguished and quickly found its way into the underground coal mines. Then, it spread.
Sinkholes appeared out of nowhere, dragging down locals into the ground below and replacing them with noxious gases like carbon monoxide. Levels of dangerous fumes and ground instability are still an issue today. This fire has been burning ever since - this year is its 60th anniversary.
In 1980, there were 1000 residents, but only a decade later 63 remained. In 1992, eminent domain was invoked on all properties across Centralia, and in 2002, the ZIP code was discontinued. A final formal eviction took place in 2009, leaving behind seven residents who are allowed to remain there until their death. And then, the property will be taken through eminent domain.
Today, Centralia is an odd place. Most homes have been demolished. Some overrun by local vegetation. And one of the most famous landmarks of Centralia, the abandoned section of Route 61 which has been splattered by graffiti over the years, has been covered with dirt. What’s left of the town is often described as a field in which random pavement appears here and there. Over the years, the nearby forest has slowly encroached on the area and will soon eat it alive. All that’s left, apart from the remaining residents, is the church and four cemeteries. All are maintained regularly with St. Mary’s still holding weekly services.
It’s obviously the perfect setting for a spooky story. And it’s not the only ghost town worthy of a horror franchise.
Oradour-sur-Glane, France
In about a week’s time, it’ll be the 78th anniversary of the massacre of Oradour-sur-Glane. In 1944, the SS killed 642 civilians in this village in Nazi-occupied France and destroyed the homes in which they used to live.
I would go into the details of the massacre as the execution of the innocent men, women and children is absolutely horrendous. You can find out more about this village and the events surrounding it here.
After the war, Charles de Gaulle - who would eventually go on to be the French Prime Minister and President - decided the village should not be rebuilt. Instead, it remains should be a brutal but honest memorial of Nazi occupation.
Today you can find historic hardware like bikes and sewing machines among the ruins, and even tour other objects in a museum dedicated to the village, like watches and glasses that belonged to the villagers.
Varosha, Cyprus
Much like Oradour, Varosha’s current status is down to tragedy.
This once-thriving town has a long history dating back to the 16th century. But this same history has seen it change hands multiple times between the Brits, Turks and Cypriots. By the early 70s, it was one of the most popular tourist destinations on the planet, drawing in A-listers including Elizabeth Taylor and Brigitte Bardot. In 1974, however, things changed.
When Cyprus was invaded by Türkiye (Turkey changed their name like 22 hours ago), Greek Cypriots fled Varosha. Today, the high-rises built in the 20th century for celebrity tourists have started to crumble, pavements and roads have been overrun with vegetation, and, for the most part, it’s a ghost town.
Only five years ago Varosha was re-opened to civilians. And more and more tourists troop back every year to explore what was a hotspot many decades ago.
Bodie, California
Now, this is a ghost town with over half a million visitors every year.
The story starts in 1859, when a line of gold was discovered there. A mining town was rapidly set up, and within twenty years it was officially booming with approx 10,000 citizens living there. It’s even been said that it was one of America’s biggest cities at the time. In the space of 90 years, Bodie’s mines produced a huge amount of gold and silver that today would be worth $85 million.
At it’s peak, Bodie was a picture-perfect stereotype of Wild West America. With 65 saloons littering the town, it was known for its shootouts, brawls and stagecoach holdups. It even had a Chinatown (which turns out was a thing back then?) with several hundred residents and a Taoist temple.
But as much as it represented ‘boom’, it had a timely ‘bust’, too. Miners would come to get rich quick and then head elsewhere for other booms. By 1880, the first signs of decline had set in, but only by the 1910s did local amenities, like the local newspaper and the railway, close down. In 1920, the population had shriveled to 120.
Today, only 170 buildings remain and it is a National Historic Landmark. You can still visit a fully operational goal mine and even check out saloons with their unchanged interiors still stocked with early 20th century goods.
Fordlandia, Brazil
This one deserves a horror franchise.
If you didn’t study America in the 1920s, then you probably haven’t heard of Henry Ford. He was the founder of the Ford Motor Company and pioneered mass production. His techniques of assembly line production quickly turned luxury cars into affordable goods.
So, in 1928, he decided to maximise his profits even further by securing a source of cultivated rubber for his cars. And that source was on the banks of the Rio Tapajós in Brazil. The 2.5 million acre land was turned into an American village complete with traditional American houses, a hospital, school, library and hotels. The water tower was even shifted over from the States.
If that wasn’t odd enough - you know, a random American town in the middle of Brazil - the town also had a strict set of rules employees had to follow, like no tobacco, alcohol or women. Inspectors would even visit houses at random to ensure they were being followed. As a result, a small settlement known as the “Island of Innocence” was set up, chockful of bars and brothels to circumvent the town’s rules.
Problems were apparent as soon as work began on the area. Many workers fell victim to yellow fever and malaria, and with so few roads connected to the area, they had to rely on the river to transport in essentials. And when it came to harvesting the rubber, they uncovered more issues, too. Managers had little knowledge of the local tropical plants, like how rubber trees normally grow far apart to project against plagues and diseases. But in Fordlandia they grown were in plantations close together and therefore weren’t able to produce sufficient amounts of rubber.
The workers were also unhappy with their treatment, like wearing nametags all day and living in an unfamiliar American settlement. So in 1930 - yep, four years after Fordlandia was established - native workers revolted. They cut telegraph wires and chased off the managers. Another four years passed and Ford Motor Company officially abandoned it.
Today, a majority of the old buildings still stand. You can even still find clothes, furniture and silverware in the houses of the American village left behind.
Have you ever visited a ghost town?
Let me know in a comment below.
And while you’re there, make sure you like and reblog this post!
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The Great Notes App Exodus: Half-Dead and Still Kicking
The thing is, Jason’s been a ghost for a while, okay? Six whole months, and it’s been a goddamn adjustment, being capable of floating through walls and falling through furniture if he’s not careful, if he’s not concentrating. He goes unseen and unheard in a manor too full of grieving to only be residence of two people - Alfred keeps his room tidy and untouched, as if it’s a shrine to keep care of, and Bruce is…
Jason is, was, Robin, so he can’t quite help himself from following in Batman’s shadow as the man patrols, more vicious, more brutal than Jason has ever seen him. He takes more risks, gets injured more often - and it’s terrifying, the way Batman grieves, as if trying to follow him into the grave. So Jason follows, unbeating heart in his throat, and only relaxes again when Bruce is safe in the manor, sleeping off whatever injuries he got during the night.
He can’t interact with the world, but he can watch the shades of past residents going about their lives, and he learns things from doing this even as he fears becoming them one day, mindlessly replaying a life long passed. He can snoop and explore without worry for being caught, and if he ever gets bored he can practice flying (so much harder than it seems - he’s careful never to go too high, too worried that he won’t be able to come back down again, even with the ceaseless curiosity in the back of his mind wondering - just how far can I go? Beyond the sky? Could he touch the stars, if he wanted?) and when everything is terrible, when the memories of his death, his last few hours of life, haunt him, when he is drowning in his own head, he finds distractions; the way the air currents sometimes seem to react to him, trying to move things like ghosts do in those terrible movies, chattering to whoever is around and pretending they can hear him, finding mysteries to solve (what’s up with that camera kid, anyway? He’d never noticed him before…) and trying to read books in the library through sheer force of will, usually ending up just reciting the parts he knows.
(Two months and a bit in to this whole “ghost” thing, he finds out the deal with the camera kid. Jason can only be relieved because, kid’s got a point - and Bruce seems to do better with someone to protect, to teach, to watch over.
He’s not practically tearing people apart with his bare hands anymore. He’s not taking hits he should have been able to avoid anymore. He’s not lurking at the edge of rooftops anymore, staring at the ground as if contemplating how far away it is.)
And Tim… he’s weird, but brilliant, and Jason feels a little protective of him. Follows him whenever he goes out, sharp eyes watching his back regardless of whether he can protect it or not (and maybe it’s his imagination, but the world seems more real when he’s watching over Tim, closer and present in a way he can almost feel, as if he could actually affect the world, if he just tried hard enough - if he just needed to desperately enough).
And then, six months after his-… after this ghost thing started, something… changes.
Something Happens, and he can almost taste the strange Knowing - something, somewhere, has gone wrong, or perhaps right, and the ripples extend beyond the event, slipping into each corner of the universe with the subtlety of a truck, and yet somehow unnoticed.
The ghosts notice. Pale shades lift their heads, existing outside of their own memories for the first time in an age - and Jason, who is new, who is Robin, who lived in Gotham where all things become possible, is hit by the wave of Something Happening Elsewhere Rippling Out and wakes up in a box.
In a coffin.
(But Jason has been a ghost for six months, and the pain of living again is enough to reach for the existence of being a ghost, and by the time he has sorted himself out and half-clawed, half-floated his way out of his grave (again), he doesn’t expect himself to be anything but what he has been for the past six months.)
(And then, of course, he discovers he can interact with the world if he concentrates, if he wants it enough, and he assumes that Whatever That Was made him a stronger ghost.
It’s not an unfair assessment. Incorrect, but not beyond reason.
Why would he think he came back to life, anyway? That’s a bit far-fetched, really.)
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