** Note-I receive many emails, and other messages regarding directions to this location. Due to where the site is located, and how many people are interested, and the danger of the site, I have stopped giving out directions. Thanks, as always, for reading!**

I mentioned in my last post about the old mill how nervous I felt. My husband was also extremely anxious about this particular location and was hesitant to even go back with me.

He couldn’t explain it, just a general feeling of foreboding clinging to the place, and I understood exactly what he meant. The moment the soles of my boots crunched the loose rock, a knot tightened in the pit of my stomach, twisting tighter and tighter as we descended down into the ruins.

Almost like the same feeling from when you snuck out of your parent’s house at age 16, only to return home to find the door locked. It wasn’t the normal concern of trespassing, it was something else. Instead of pushing the issue, my husband and I explored quickly.

Some of these abandoned places have a darker energy than others and this was one of them. The only other place that effected me so strongly was the Norfolk Hospital for the Criminally Insane (post coming soon), and that place is full of dark history. What sort of dark history does this mill hold?

It has had pentagrams tagged on its walls. There are strange holes in the floors, and many dangerous hazards.

My husband would not set foot inside the building, and my entire body trembled every second I was in the building. I will say I should not have entered without a hard-hat and steel-toed boots. The rest of the roof could have fallen in on me at any moment, but I wanted to photograph the inside of the building.

My husband watched from the doorway as I rapidly shot the inside of the building.

I have profound respect for abandoned places. The neglected walls crowned with jagged sheets of metal torn and battered. Empty windows stare out like vacant gaping eyes longing for a time without neglect.

I took as many photographs as I could, and then we got out of there. The fist of anxiety around my stomach loosened its grip the second we drove away.

“Yet, despite all, it is a difficult thing to admit the existence of ghosts in a coldly factual world. One’s very instincts rebel at the admission of such maddening possibility. For, once the initial step is made into the supernatural, there is no turning back, no knowing where the strange road leads except that it is quite unknown and quite terrible. (“Slaughter House”)” -Richard Matheson

Trish Eklund is the owner and creator of Abandoned, Forgotten, & Decayed, and Family Fusion Community, an online resource for blended families of all types. Trish’s photography has been featured on Only in Nebraska, ListVerse, Nature Takes Over and Pocket Abandoned. Check out the new Bonanza Store for AFD merchandise! Follow on Instagram and Facebook. Trish is regularly featured on The Mighty, Huffington Post Divorce, and Her View From Home. She has also been featured on Making Midlife Matter, and The Five Moms, and has an essay in the anthology, Hey, Who’s In My House? Stepkids Speak Out by Erin Mantz.

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Categories: Abandoned Mill, Lincoln Nebraska, Nebraska, Trish Eklund