An Unexpected Brush with the Supernatural

Wesleyan Academy, affiliated with the Methodist Society and now known as Wilbraham & Monson Academy, has been a highly respected private educational institution since its founding in 1817. In 1825, the academy was relocated to the Town of Wilbraham, thanks in large part to the efforts of Reverend Phineas Peck. Reverend Peck, who also supplied the local church, reported that the people of Wilbraham were enthusiastic about the academy’s move and generously offered their support in the form of financial contributions, land donations, and services. It was in this very setting, rich with community spirit and dedication to education, that an unexpected encounter with the supernatural would unfold.

It was the summer of 2010, and I was serving as a Captain in the Fire Prevention Division. One day, I received a call from an old friend, Nick, who had retired from the very position I now held. Nick, like many other retired firefighters, had joined the academy’s maintenance crew as a part-time employee. He called to request an inspection of Fisk Hall, a historic building constructed in 1851, expressing concerns about the auditorium on the third floor.

The school was quiet, as it was summer vacation, with only the maintenance staff bustling around to prepare for the upcoming school year. I met Nick at the front entrance of Fisk Hall. As someone with a deep appreciation for historic places, I had always been fascinated by the academy’s storied past. Over the years, I had visited the grounds frequently in my professional capacity and had often heard eerie tales from those who worked there. Despite secretly hoping to encounter something paranormal on previous visits, I had never experienced anything out of the ordinary—until this day.

Perhaps it was because the thought of the supernatural wasn’t even on my mind that summer afternoon when Nick unlocked the entry door and led me up the front stairwell to the third floor. As we approached the auditorium, Nick reached out for the door handle. Suddenly, the handle slammed downward on its own with an audible click before snapping back into its original position.

We froze, staring at each other in stunned disbelief. A moment passed before I broke the silence. “Did you see that?” I asked, my voice trembling. Nick, still in shock, took a few seconds to respond. “Yes,” he finally said.

This was Nick’s first time witnessing anything like this, and it left us both rattled. Just then, another colleague of Nick’s arrived, immediately noticing our expressions. “You saw the door handle move, didn’t you?” he asked. “Yes,” we replied in unison.

Testing the door, we found it locked. We quickly unlocked it and stepped inside. The room was completely dark, with window shades drawn and furniture scattered about, as it was undergoing a transition. Despite its state of disarray, a thorough inspection revealed that no one was inside. All other doors were securely locked, eliminating the possibility that someone else had caused the movement.

Determined to understand what had just happened, we turned our attention to the door and its handle. Testing the mechanism, we had one person inside the room replicate the movement by slamming the handle downward and releasing it. Each time, the door popped open, as expected due to its egress design. However, what we had witnessed moments earlier defied explanation—the door had remained firmly shut.

Trying the same test from the outside, where the incident had occurred, yielded no unusual results. This only deepened our conviction that whatever force had manipulated the door handle had manifested on our side of the door—an occurrence beyond anything we could rationally explain.

I'm certain this is just one of many stories that could be written about the academy, but believe me—it doesn’t stop there. Wilbraham is rich with tales of unexplained paranormal activity. Through my historical research and conversations with many people, I’ve been amazed at the sheer number of stories I’ve heard. These accounts span homes, businesses, restaurants, cemeteries, and even abandoned buildings—the list seems endless.

It really makes you wonder: is there another dimension out there, one we simply don’t understand?

Wesleyan Academy is now Wilbraham Academy in this c1890 image. Fisk Hall is the middle building. Joe Roberts