07/22/2026
On the wooded northeast edge of Indianapolis, there was once an estate that people slowed down to stare at after dark. It belonged to Skiles Edward Test, a wealthy heir who loved gadgets, animals, and his own privacy, and who wired his grounds with so many blue floodlights that the whole property seemed to glow an unearthly shade of cobalt on autumn nights.
Neighbors and passing teenagers filled in the rest. The story spread that Test had lost the love of his life, and that somewhere inside the mansion he kept her body in a glass coffin, watched over forever by those cold blue lamps. None of it was true, but the legend of the House of Blue Lights grew far larger than the quiet man who inspired it.
The real Skiles Test was gentler than the myth. He rescued stray cats by the dozens, tinkered endlessly with inventions, and mostly wanted to be left alone behind his gates. When he died in 1964 and the estate was eventually cleared, curiosity seekers came looking for the glass coffin and found only an ordinary, if eccentric, home.
Today the land is Skiles Test Nature Park, all trails and birdsong, and the blue lights are long gone. Yet the story refuses to fade, passed down by Hoosiers who swear their older cousin saw the glow with their own eyes.
Did you grow up hearing the tale of the House of Blue Lights, and how did the version you were told end?
