Charleston, South Carolina, is known for its charm, but few visitors realize the chilling, haunted history buried beneath the city’s surface. The former grounds of The Charleston Orphan House, now home to the Joseph E. Berry Dormitory at the College of Charleston, hold a particularly tragic and eerie past. The echoes of a 1918 tragedy, combined with stories of rebellious children and strange disturbances, make this site one of the most haunted in the city.

In 1918, as the Spanish Influenza swept through Charleston, over two hundred children at the Orphan House fell ill. The infirmary became overwhelmed, and the orphanage’s staff, including the ill-fated Miss Lesesne, fought a losing battle against the disease. With dwindling resources and growing chaos, Miss Lesesne perished, leaving Miss Dorine Blackman--nicknamed "The Door" by rebellious children—to restore order.

But amidst the sickness and suffering, the children’s defiance only grew. In a chilling episode, a group of children set fire to a makeshift tent they had built. While the orphanage itself was spared, four children perished in their sleep from smoke inhalation. The tragedy didn't end with their deaths. It’s believed their restless spirits never truly departed.

Fast forward to today: students living in Joseph E. Berry Dormitory report eerie, inexplicable disturbances. Cold fingers brushing across sleeping necks, the sound of soft, childlike giggles in the dead of night—just some of the stories told by residents. One student, awoken at 2:45 a.m., claimed to hear the unmistakable sound of children playing in the hallway, though no one was there. Even more disturbing, several residents have woken to find tiny handprints pressed into the condensation on their windows—prints that seem to appear and vanish at will.

The hauntings go beyond noises. Strange physical manifestations plague the dormitory. False fire alarms have long disrupted the peace, often in the middle of the night. Campus security cameras have captured bizarre, unexplainable movements— shadows twisting unnaturally in empty corridors, as if something otherworldly is playing at being human. Students walking alone often report feeling a presence behind them—watching, waiting. It’s not uncommon to find deep scratches on doors or walls, with no explanation for how they got there.

The College of Charleston tried everything to curb the disturbances—rewiring the alarm system, changing dorm policies—but the alarms, the strange occurrences, and the disembodied voices of small children persist. There’s a darker theory that what haunts the dorm isn’t just the restless spirits of orphaned children, but something far more malevolent—a darker intelligence, born from years of suffering, feeding off the fear and confusion of its inhabitants.

Visitors and students alike have reported distant, metallic rhymes of children’s songs circling through the air vents at night, while others have heard high-pitched squeals of laughter echoing from the brick courtyards, where no one stands. Those who witness these phenomena speak of a deep sense of unease, as though they are being lured into some dark, twisted game.

Even visiting parents of prospective students have encountered these unsettling phenomena, waking to the sound of footsteps and the unmistakable giggle of children running wild through the halls. Some even reported hearing eerie, disembodied voices, rhythmic and celebratory, moving through the building.

The past refuses to stay silent at Joseph E. Berry Dormitory. The spirits of the children who once rebelled in life may still roam these halls, stuck between worlds, and perhaps driven by something even darker. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, the eerie occurrences on this site leave many convinced that something far more sinister lingers.

If you dare to learn more about the haunted history of Charleston, book a ghost tour with Ghost Tour Charleston--where history and the supernatural collide.