The building I worked in was a new, plain brick, institutional place but the old building was a long, serpentine, gothic structure that perched on top of the hill and looked about as malevolent as anything Stephen King or Shirley Jackson could have dreamed up. There were spires along the length of the building, tall barred windows and that brooding air of evil that those of us with a naturally romantic disposition like to project onto such places. At night when I left a guard would escort me to my car but I would always find a reason to turn around in the drives that surrounded the old building just to get a closer look and wonder about it.