By CLAIRE WINTER

I don’t think it’s a hot take to say that Eaton Chapel always feels a little jarring to walk by. It’s probably the prettiest structure on campus, with brickwork and climbing ivy and stained-glass windows, which is a surefire sign it doesn’t belong in Beloit, where every building even looks like it smells like piss and weed! But inside, it feels even weirder. 

First off, getting inside Eaton Chapel is a trick all on its own. Technically, there are no official closing hours according to the Beloit College website, but- excepting an event- whether or not the doors will open for you when you get there is a completely different story. 2 p.m. on a Sunday? Locked. Nearly midnight Wednesday? Open as the gates of hell. Generally anytime after 7 p.m. decreases your odds, but every so often a night comes around where you can sneak in.

Secondly, it feels, hands down, like one of the least inhabited places on Campus. The college holds events there, sure, but in recent years things like Commencement have been held in the atrium of the Science Center rather than in the musty pews of Eaton Chapel. Concerts and remembrance ceremonies seem like the most common uses for the space, and those are few and far between. You’d think someone would at least take advantage of the relative privacy in there or something, (come on y’all) but often when I enter I’m the only person inside. 

Except, of course, for when I’m not, which brings me to my third point, following from the first two: Eaton Chapel is creepy as hell.

The religious aspect is probably the foundation for much of this. Non-denominational or not, churches always have a faint sense of unease about them when they’re not actively in use, an effect I am happy to attribute to modern horror. But there are plenty of details that make it equally unsettling to stay inside. The place smells like a proper church in a weird but oddly familiar way, and the acoustics of the space and the background noise of fans and flickering exit signs disguise the opening of the doors, which means that you are liable to get jumpscared by security at any given time. (What the hell are they doing in there? Place your bets now, folks, because my money’s on “jacking off by the organ”.) 

Every window has stained or warped glass so that once inside, one cannot reassure themselves of the outside world. The bells that ring from the steeple are always just slightly out of time and tune. There are at least four alternative doors into the chapel (other than the main double doors) but every single one is kept locked. Walking around alone creates the same feeling you might get walking around your elementary school after hours- there is the faint but unmistakable sense that you are an aberration in a space not meant for you. That something, permeating the walls and clinging in the shadows, is waiting for you to leave. It’s no wonder that someone tried to burn the place down in 1953. 

And of course that’s only the top floor. The basement of Eaton Chapel is equally creepy, although in a much more traditional sense. There’s mold creeping up the walls of the bathrooms and the firmly dated aesthetic of the main music center, compounded by soundproofed practice rooms and mysteriously locked doors. As opposed to the ground floor, the basement has a lingering sense that one day, about thirty years ago, everyone suddenly got up and left, leaving everything from choir schedules to Christmas decor behind. 

At the same time, though, there’s an odd affection I’ve developed for Eaton Chapel, especially in the hours when it lies still and silent. It’s not welcoming- not even close to it- but that somehow makes it more inviting to wander into, every once in a while. Just don’t stay for too long.

Featured Image: Flickr