Here’s What It’s Like to Spend the Night in the Lizzie Borden House

“What was that?” my sister, Lauren, whispered in the dark next to me. I could barely think straight over the sound of the three 18-year-old girls in the room next to us screaming that ghosts must have set off the fire alarm. I looked at my phone. It was just after 3 a.m. Only a couple hours left before the sun came up. Up until that point, my sister and I had been trying our best (and failing) to get some rest in the same bedroom where Lizzie Borden’s stepmother Abby was brutally murdered with an axe.

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