Before I start, I'll say that I have no idea what causes someone to become a ghost... most experiences I've had and heard about lead me to believe that they tend to be either people who have lived a traumatic life and/or suffered a traumatic death (like a suicide or at the hands of another person who INTENDED to kill them) , and older people who were very possessive in life. But that doesn't apply to all of them. I think when someone comes back as a ghost, they don't come all the way back mentally... maybe they are able to focus very intently on one thing but thats about all they are interested in. The encounters I've had and have close knowledge of are all interactive, that is, the spirit was obviously reacting to the viewer or trying to get their attention in some way. I have heard of others that pay no attention to the living at all, they're more like a television show than an actual person.
Woodshaven was built as a "School for Wayward Girls" in the 1890s, and was expanded to become an actual prison in the 40's or 50's. It consisted of a cell block which housed, I'd say, about 100 inmates, 2 victorian-era dormitories where the original inhabitants lived, a one story reform school, a house where I guess the warden lived, and an old farmhouse that was there when the property was built, dating back to the 1830's. It was in Claymont, DE, and the buildings were on top of a hill surrounded by trees, about half a mile from any other people. The buildings were all demolished in 2000... it's a park with a kids playground in it now.
The prison itself closed down in 1990 or so, and my role in its history began in late 96 or early 1997. The place was long abandoned and the warden's house, as well as one of the dormitories, had been destroyed by arsonists. I was there more for insurance purposes than to actually prevent much of anything.
I had requested Woodshaven, because I've always loved abandoned places like this, and I was largely left alone. I worked 4 to midnight or 4 to 1 AM, depending on the day, and other than the occasional friend I brought up there, I saw another person maybe 5 times the entire time I worked at the prison.The job basically entailed walking around the buildings once an hour with a 'keybox' - a little purse looking thing with a keyhole and a clock on it, going to various places around the prison which had keys on chains hanging from them, and turning the keys in the box so that it would record what time I was there and prove to the bosses that I wasn't asleep at that particular moment in time.
Anyway, I'd been there about 4 hours, and was kinda bored. There was snow on the ground and I came up with the idea of making snowballs and trying to throw them through this small, open attic window in one of the dormitories, about 50 feet off the ground. Well, I threw snowballs for about 5 minutes and finally got one through the window. For about 2 seconds I was happy about getting the snowball through. Then I got this... chill? ...this feeling that I should NOT have done that. I didn't actually see or hear anything, but despite that, my chipper mood was ruined. I thought to myself, "I am never, ever going to do something like that again while I am here!". I've never had such a feeling come from nowhere like that before or since.
