This bug-eyed water wheel uses the power of the Sun to clean up Baltimore Harbor.

A faded sign from the 1920s remembers Baltimore's resistance toward banning alcohol.

This simple convenience store sits on the location where the Ouija board was named—and has a plaque to prove it.

A model home in the Medical Examiner's Office in which grisly death scenes are staged to train forensic investigators.

An abandoned church gets a second life as a massive beer hall and event space.

Ship skeletons haunt Baltimore's waterways.

An eerie, abandoned military base engulfed by nature and graffiti is now home to a local park.

A 200-year-old bar with a cheeky name claims to have served Edgar Allan Poe his final drink.

A blank headstone topped with a pile of pennies marks the final resting place of the infamous assassin.

A museum dedicated to exhibiting remarkable outsider art.

A hidden alley in urban Baltimore is a haven for graffiti artists.

This beloved Baltimore spot features caged dolls, a giant Pez collection, and many, many mannequins.

The man who first patented the Ouija board rests in peace beneath a headstone that playfully reflects that achievement.

The site where Poe "in great distress, and ... in need of immediate assistance" likely died.

This free, take-a-book shop seems like a trick but isn't.

Eighteen miniature death-scene dioramas.

Crammed into a Baltimore row house is an oddities shop that sells everything from skulls to dead insects.

The trials and tribulations of marking Poe's grave.

It's not hard to see why the historic Peabody Conservatory of Music's library has been described as a "cathedral of books."

Baltimore's first skyscraper may be home to the inspiration behind pulp fiction's most celebrated bird.