When I moved to the Hamptons on Long Island like 20 years ago, my wife and I lived in the "Topping House" that had been the original Southampton Hospital.
Ver archivo adjunto 3000671
That was my porch right there in that picture.
The place was creepy as all fuck. The living room was the original operating room, and there were pipes coming of the ceiling that were for the original gas-fed OR lamps. The was an "ice room" in the creepy ass basement that was the morgue. The master bedroom bathroom had big sinks that were "scrub sinks", and the door of the room sealed with a rubber gasket because it had been a tuberculosis isolation ward.
The house was old as shit and it creaked and groaned and the steam radiators made all sorts of creepy thumps and gurgling and hissing noises.
Hundreds of people had died in the house, like for real. There were records of all the people who had died in the Topping House that were kept at the new Southampton Hospital that was right across the street, and I looked at them, and saw the actual names dates, and causes of death, and lots of them were kids who had died of plagues and horrible turn-of-the-century poxes and shitting diseases.
There were people in the neighborhood who wouldn't step foot in the house because they swore it was haunted, and riddled with ghosties and ghoulies.
I lived there for two years, and never saw any ghosts, because I'm not a childish dimwit.
There are no haunted houses, but there are lots of haunted heads.