- Spree Park, Berlin, Germany
- Hotel del Salto in Colombia - featured previously on Curious History
- Gulliver’s Travels Park, Kawaguchi, Japan
- Abandoned mill in Sorrento, Italy
- Mirny (Mir) Mine is a former open pit diamond mine located in Mirny, Eastern Siberia, Russia - The second largest man-made hole in the world
- The abandoned flats in Keelung, Taiwan
- Holland Island in the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland, United States
- Craco is an abandoned commune and Medieval village in Italy
- Dadipark Dadizel in Belgium
- Abandoned train depot in Czestochowa, Poland
The Haunted Manor in Gdansk, Poland
In Gdansk, a charming city in Northern Poland, there is a hill. Local residents still refer to it as “Devil’s Hill” due to an old legend. The legend states that this little hill, surrounded by a deep forest and swamps, was a favorite place for witch gatherings. During these gatherings, it is said that some nasty demons were summoned. Legend also says that a very large stone located on the top of the hill was brought there by the devil.
In 1886, the mansion was a home to a restaurant and between 1925 and 1933 it was the headquarters to the Gdansk Freemason’s lodge. After World War 2, the mansion was used as a local television station’s headquarters. All occupants believed the building was haunted and was continuously disturbed by “unknown” forces.
Today the building remains derelict and no one claims ownership. Many of its floors are highly unstable and the south wing of the mansion didn’t survive last winter as two floors collapsed. The only reason the entire building is still standing is due to a solid external wall.
Abandoned Los Feliz Murder Mansion
It’s a murder mystery that has puzzled the Los Feliz neighborhood in Los Angeles since 1959. On the night of December 6, 1959, in a mansion that sits on a Los Feliz hilltop, Dr. Harold Perelson struck his wife to death with a hammer, severely beat his 18-year-old daughter, and then ended his own life by drinking a glass of acid. Police found Perelson lying dead on the floor next to his wife’s blood-soaked bed. He was still clutching the hammer. On a nightstand next to his bed, investigators found an open copy of Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” which was opened to Canto 1. “Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost … ,” read the passage.
For the next fifty years, the mansion would remain completely untouched and uninhabited by anyone.
A year after the gruesome murder-suicide, the mansion was sold to a couple, Emily and Julian Enriquez, who only used the 5,050-square-foot house as a storage site. Neighbors recall seeing the couple bringing boxes to the mansion, but never staying overnight. In 1994, Rudy Enriquez inherited the house and, like his parents, neither stayed nor made any changes to the Perelson’s old decor.
Local neighbors and brave visitors of the Perelson mansion have shared their tales. Through grimy windows, one can see a 1950s-style television set, a Christmas tree, and neatly-wrapped gifts. The furniture is covered in a thick layer of dust and the living room remains the exact same as it was that one December night as shown in the pictures above.
Rudy Enriquez, now a 77-year old retired music manager, has refused to sell the property. The exterior of the mansion is in slow decay, and the local neighbors have had to pitch in to help maintain the property.
Though no one has been formally invited into the home, it is rumored that the mansion attracted trespassers for some time. Former neighbors have even witnessed people having picnics in the backyard. One trespasser alleges that the house is haunted and that she was bitten by a black widow spider upon trying to break in. An alarm system has been installed and, to this day, remains one of the only changes made to the Perelson’s old home.
No one knows what exactly prompted Dr. Perelson to commit those atrocities fifty years ago. Some have speculated financial woes, while others have dug up old, unconfirmed rumors of Dr. Perelson having been secretly hospitalized. All three Perelson children survived the incident, though none have been mentioned in the media since.
What remains an even larger mystery is why the current owner has left the scene of the crime almost exactly as it was in 1959.
Abandoned Igloo Hotel — 200 Miles from Nowhere, Alaska
Along a well-traversed, albeit remote, stretch of Alaska highway sits an irregular structure. Abandoned and neglected for over 40 years, “Igloo City” stands as a dilapidated, four-story shell positioned 180 miles north of Anchorage along the George Parks Highway.
Lack of financing put a halt to construction years ago. The windows were built too small and did not meet Alaska’s building codes. Despite the Igloo’s forsaken appearance, the structure is mostly well loved. The local press has taken a harsh view of the Igloo calling it an “architectural monstrosity,” a “towering blob of a structure” and a “proverbial sore thumb,” among other things. But locally the Igloo is still regarded as a welcome landmark.
Brad Fisher, the hotel’s owner, is open to anyone interested in making an offer on Igloo City as long as they’re willing to do the work necessary to renovate it into a working hotel. Fisher states, “I’d love to one day see it in operation…I think most people are fascinated by it. Sure, the architecture’s not anything fantastic, but it was more or less built by one man (and) structurally, for that area, it’s one of the best designs you could have.”
Abandoned Bannerman Castle on Pollepel Island, New York
Businessman Francis Bannerman VI bought Pollepel Island, located on the Hudson River in New York, in 1900. He needed a place to store an arsenal. A place to store helmets, haversacks, mess kits and munitions he could not store in his thriving military surplus store in New York City (also, city officials were antsy about warehousing gun powder).
Bannerman wanted a building that would look like an old Scottish castle, complete with a moat, turrets, towers and impossible-to-miss letters on the side reading “Bannerman’s Island Arsenal.” Workers also built a house that looked like a little castle for the Bannerman family elsewhere on the 6.5-acre (2.6-hectare) island.
"The buildings were out of a fairy tale," said Bannerman Castle Trust executive director Neil Caplan. “They were the medieval castle structures that you see here today that are based on castles all throughout Europe, which make up this baronial Scottish design that Bannerman created here as his own wonderful play land.”
Bannerman died in 1918. The family sold the island to New York state in 1967. Plans for Pollopel Island to become a tourist attraction were thwarted in 1969 when a fire destroyed much of the main building’s internal structure and the castle and grounds fell into ruin.
Long before Bannerman purchased the island, the local Native Americans steered clear of the uninhabited island as it was rumored to be filled with evil spirits. The legends go back to Colonial times and there are many who still believe the island is haunted.
Today the not-for-profit Bannerman Castle Trust has been raising money since 1993 to clear paths, replant gardens, stabilize the buildings and make the island visitor friendly. Not only are guided walking tours of the island available, the Trust is even staging plays to add more reasons for tourist to visit the incredible castle island in New York.
Abandoned Building 25 at Creedmoor Psychiatric Center
Located in Queens Village, New York, Building 25 at the Creedmoor Psychiatric Center has sat abandoned and rotting since 1974. The psychiatric center is still open and operating but, for almost four decades, Building 25 still stands — ignored and decaying.
Originally, the open land was owned by the Creed family and was purchased by the New York State Legislature in 1870 to house the New York State National Guard. After four decades of complaints about random long range bullets flying into surrounding areas, the National Guard abandoned the buildings in 1912. At that time, Creedmoor State Hospital opened as a farm colony for then Brooklyn State Hospital, with patients working on the farmland for treatment and room and board.
From 1918 to 1974, the population grew from several hundred to over five thousand patients. Through the decades, a large number of violent criminals were sent there and allowed to wander the grounds freely, with some easily escaping. With reports of rape, assault, suicides, fires and burglaries, the institution was out of control. In addition, complaints of patient abuse by staff and unsanitary living conditions added to the already horrid and unsafe living conditions at the hospital.
By 1974, the original Creedmoor State Hospital was moved to a new facility on the property and renamed the Creedmoor Psychiatric Center. While all of the other buildings once used were vacated and demolished, Building 25 was left deserted. To this day, the building stands abandoned and ignored by the state. Why buildings like this are allowed to stand rotting for decades can only be answered by their owners.