Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S2 Ep77: Episode 77: Terrifiying Asylum Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 19, 2022

All of tonight’s stories have been shared on the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license, or were posted on my sub-reddit and are read here with the author’s express permission. Our first tale of asylum terror is ‘Eery Asylum’ by Eeheeheeh. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Eeheeheeh  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Eery_Asylum Next up we have ‘Ginger’s Asylum’ by LoVeLy MoNsTeR. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Ginger%27s_Asylum Our third horrifying nightmare is ‘I Explored an Abandoned Asylum’ by Suomynona404. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/I_Explored_an_Abandoned_Asylum https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Suomynona404 Next up is ‘Pennhurst Asylum’ by XHeartless105x. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:XHeartless105x https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Pennhurst_Asylum Our penultimate tale of the macabre is ‘The Asylum’ by Raaxis. http://www.scp-wiki.net/the-asylum https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Asylum We round of tonight with ‘I Used to Be a Dangerous Man, but Something Happened at my Asylum’ by Trappist01x. https://www.reddit.com/user/Trappist01x

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. It was a house for those who could not take care of themselves, for those who heard voices, who had strange thoughts and did strange things. And so it is tonight that we visit the horror of the asylum. Six tales to terrify you this evening,

and as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Erie Asylum. January 15th, 1996. I've been dreaming about Erie Asylum again. The dreams start off normal, like a lot of my dreams.

It's just random images, things that I've seen, places I've been, scenes from TV shows and the occasional flight of my old hometown. But while I'm flying, staring out across the... expanse of houses, schools, shops, and the maze of roads that connect them all, my focus is drawn to the asylum. And then everything takes a turn for the works. I'm inside the hospital, in the main hallway. The doors are closed behind me and everything's the same as when I visited. The paint's peeling off the walls, there are random pieces of debris scattered about. Pieces of plasterboard from the ceiling and the odd discarded needle, albeit

bottle. The lights were all on, but most of the light bulbs have either been smashed or just don't work. There's a flickering light bulb up ahead. I can see that there's someone beneath it, but whenever the light flicks on, they vanish. I recognise a silhouette, but I can't place it. Then there's a sound behind me, and when I turn around, dozens of patients have appeared out of nowhere. They look like they never left the hospital when it closed 20 years ago. They're not. They look like they never left the hospital when it closed 20 years ago. Their white cotton clothes and straitjackets are stained with dirt and blood. Their bodies are so frail that they look almost inhuman.

Their eyes are all fixed on me, glowering and unblinking. Start walking towards me. Slowly, I back away, but they just keep coming, following me. I turn. The person under the light is gone, and I run. I run through the halls, deeper into the maze of hallways and rooms. They're carrying things now. Needles filled with strange coloured liquids.

Some of them have scalples, surgical scissors and implements. Some hold IV stands like clubs and swing them at me as I run. They've spread out, and they're closing in. I turn another corner and run through the darkness. It's claws grabbing at me, trying to. slow me down and when I stumble into the lights I'm caught by a familiar figure brown eyes and sickly pale skin it's him the one that I couldn't say he grabs me and drags me toward a room it's stark and white he holds me down while two others strap me to a table the others have assembled a tray of

iv bags and knives and scissors and needles and probes and clips and surgical masks. They pull on the scrubs without ever breaking eye contact. And before they can set about their gruesome work, I wake up. I wonder if this is a sign that I need to put these ghosts to rest, that I need to see him. Or maybe it's just my guilty mind that conjured up this dream as a way to punish me, or maybe to give me hope of redemption. I'm not sure. But, well, I think that I need to go back to Erie Asylum. January 17th, 1996. I'm staying in Erie Hotel.

Everything around here is named after the town. Given the choice between staying in a town called Smithville and a town called Erie, a tourist picked Erie. The novelty wore off before it even began when you were born there. But no one recognises me. I'm happy about that. I don't want anybody connecting me to Amanda Rose. I use the name Anna York because I think that everyone would get a bit suspicious.

I still look like I did 20 years ago, just 20 years older. I'm worried that using my own name might jog people's memories. I don't want to get run out of town before I can get closure. I decided that I wouldn't go up to the asylum today. I asked the owner of the hotel about the asylum. I told her that I was researching it, as I hoped to write a fictional horror story set around the hospital's past. She was a little reluctant at first,

but upon realizing how if the book became popular, it would bring more people to the town. She was quick to open up. I've never looked into the history of the asylum much. I was too busy trying to bury those memories deep in my subconscious. But I did find out that Erie Asylum was commissioned to be built by Edward Erie, the town's namesake, after his father fell ill.

But Edward Erie used the asylum to conduct experiments of an unethical nature. He used the patients as guinea pigs for his more bizarre and unscientific practices. The hospital continued to dabble with the occult, and the paranormal after Erie went insane and was admitted to his own hospital. But the legacy of Edward Erie ended when the entire hospital was examined after the death of a seemingly unimportant woman whose daughter married into money and was able to use her newfound power to look into the asylum's sketchy practices. Most of the doctors were sent to prison for murder and gross misconduct.

And Amanda Rose, the chief of medicine, committed suicide rather than face the court. Well, the hotel owner, who I found out was called Maggie, said that the family of that bitch Rose stayed in town for nearly 13 years, but left after Amanda Rose's only child, the one named after Frankenstein's maker. I can only roll my eyes, was involved in the death of the mayor's son. I left at that point. I thanked her for her help and went down the street to the town's oldest cafe.

I ordered a coffee from a miserable-looking teen behind the counter, who looked startlingly like Sarah McCallan, a girl that I used to go to school with. I sat in the booth for hours, and eventually my suspicions were confirmed when a very tired-looking Sarah took over from her son. I decided to leave at that point. Sarah and I had been close friends up until I left. If anyone would recognise me, it was her.

I bought a map of the forest trails from the newsagents. It traced out the way up to the asylum. The trail wasn't marked, but I still remembered where it split off from the main trail and wound its way up to the main gates. I'm going to go tomorrow. I'll walk the trail to the hospital, and hopefully I'll find Daniel and leave.

I'll finally have him. some kind of peace january 18th nineteen ninety six this was a mistake i should never have come i never believed in ghosts i thought that whatever the doctors were doing here they were just doing it because it was fun and that they'd been pressured into it by the other staff i was wrong that dream wasn't an invitation it was bait I woke up early this morning and I hiked up the trail. I found my way easily. I always used to like peeking through the gates. The eerie, Gothic architecture was foreboding.

It filled me with a terrifying fascination of the building, but I'd never entered before. Not before that day. When I entered, everything was like my dream, except there were no patience waiting to dissect me and no figure under the light. I was relieved. For a while, I wandered through the asylum.

It still looked abandoned and no one had any parties here. Everyone was too scared. I found that some brave souls had ventured up here to spray the walls with brightly coloured paints. But the deeper I went, the fewer tags there were. I eventually found something very disturbing, at least to me. A half-finished tag and a bottle of red spray paint on the ground. Even more worrying, there were deep maroon splatters on the floor. It wasn't the paint.

It was blood. I decided then and there that this was a mistake, and I needed to leave right now. But the asylum had other ideas. When I got to the doors, for the first time in years, they were sealed shut. And when I turned around, I saw something that filled me with dread. The figure under the light, flickering in and out of sight with the lines.

And when I turned around, I knew what I was going to see. They were standing there, standing in a line in front of the doors, and in front of them, right behind me, was Daniel. His once warm brown eyes were dead and dull. there was no shine of life in them just hatred the expression seemed to be burnt into his face you should never have come bad i did the only thing that i could i turned and i ran i ran until i couldn't run any more but whatever corner i turned he was there i lot myself into one of the observation rooms i can feel him behind the glass staring at me oh my god He's at the door.

He opened the door a few minutes ago. He's just standing there, staring at me. I can barely see for the tears. I wanted closure. I died for closure. And so I got it. I like the tears from my eyes and whispered that I was sorry. Daniel just looked at me, and a smile spread across his face.

It was unsettling, not because of how insane it looked, but because of how much it looked like Daniel, the real Daniel, and not this apparition. I know, and you're going to make it up to me. I don't think that Daniel ever died in this hospital. I think that whatever the doctors and my mother brought here, it kept him alive and it turned him into something else. I think he wants to turn me into one too. But please, if you find this, don't.

come looking for me. Please, run, just run. Ginger's asylum. Think about spiders on their webs. Eight long, thin legs, hold on effortlessly to the white strands. They stay so still, they become nearly invisible. Yet you know they're there, waiting for a victim to fall into their bitter trap, only to be devoured from the inside, slowly, mercilessly. That's like Harley. It's what he does to you. My half-brother Jacob and I had always been very close. He and I could talk about anything and everything together.

We trusted each other and had the best brother-sister relationship that everyone should be jealous of. He was two years older than me. Well, we look very alike. Solid grey eyes, dark brown hair and fair skin. He was very tall, though. He was the best player on Fexton High's basketball team. He was very passionate about the sport, always was. We had the same mother and lived with her.

But I never met my dad. He'd left before I was born. But his dad lived in the next town to Fenton. Jacob would visit him often. He always talked about his dad with a gleam in his eye. It was obvious that Jacob loved his dad immensely. Around August when I was 15, I noticed drastic changes in Jacob.

he was refraining from talking to anybody even me me his best friend his own sister he spent days locked up in his room i don't even know how you'd get food or go to the bathroom he was just always in there in mid-september my mother called me down to her room jacob was still in his room silent i made my way down the stairs to her room she told me to sit at the foot of her bed and that's when she told me jacob's dad passed away that's why he's been acting this way i became furious at her for not telling me after a few minutes of pointless arguing i walked out of the door through the living room and out of the house i made down the sidewalk along the road the cold air hurting in my lungs i needed to cool off About an hour later I returned. I jogged up the stairs and paused by Jacob's room. Hesidently, I opened the door.

It creaked. Everything was dark. I couldn't see. Jacob, I said quietly. I walked into his room, my hand on the wall trying to find the light switch. I'm sorry, Mom just told me. There he was.

Dead. hanging inside the closet across the room was his body his face pale lips blue my brother had killed himself weeks passed and i was severely depressed and traumatized i couldn't sleep i barely ate breathing was a burden to me i was miserable without my brother i felt so alone it was then i realized he wasn't only my best friend it was my only friend but now he was gone forever. One night in late October, I'd had enough. I couldn't take the pain anymore. It was all too much for me. I couldn't bear it. Silently I slipped into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest steak-knife there. I crawled back up to my room and collapsed, crying hysterically. I held onto the blade tightly and pressed it up against my arm. I slipped my veins deeply and it hurt. I did the same to my other arm. I fell onto the floor bleeding and drifting off into what I hoped was absolute death.

When I woke up, I was in a white room. I smelled stale medicine and heard something beeping. I was in a hospital. She's awake, said someone, and I heard a sudden rush of footsteps coming my way. A doctor, two nurses, and some man in a black suit stood there. My mum was nowhere in sight. When I asked about her, the questions went through one ear and out of the other. I was sure she'd found me in my room, but where would you?

she have gone? After a series of questions and examinations, the man in the black suit told me that he'd be taking me to a safe place until he was sure I was ready to go home. I was confused until I read the logo on the clipboard he held. Ginger's asylum. Hell, I just wanted to die, get all of this bullshit over with. When I didn't put up a fight, I didn't want to make things worse. Needless to say, I was brought to the asylum put in a room with only a mattress and pillow on the room. floor paintings hung on the walls made by other patients the first few days and nights there I put myself in the fetal position moving only to take my meds and force myself to eat it was horrible it made me want to die even more how long will I be here I

asked one of the nurses who come in to check on me she jumped started by the fact I'd said anything at all she looked at me confusingly as if she were just realizing I was in the room with her. Then her face glared. About a week or two, she said plainly. Obviously, she'd answered the question numerous times. My jaw dropped. Two weeks. She nodded and left the room. I put myself in the fetal position once more and allowed myself to cry. That night, unable to sleep, I stood from the bed. The bandages were tight around my arms, and opened the door silently and it luckily didn't creak. The hallway was dimly lit and empty. I walked out cautiously and made my way down the hall, headed wherever my legs would take me. There was an

eerie feel to the quiet asylum, especially since the dark skies didn't illuminate through the windows. However, knowing I'd watched one too many horror movies about these places, I brushed off the feeling I kept on walking down the hall. I soon came to a flight of stairs. I'm not thinking I made my way down. It soon became pitch black, but I kept on walking. The stairs seemed to go on for miles and miles, then I realized that not even the elevators go down this way. I knew I shouldn't have gone, but I was too distracted by the rage and sadness I felt.

Suddenly small sounds and creeks made it clear just how ancient this part of the building was. I guess the workers here hadn't put any signs up to prevent anyone from going here because any sensible person would have turned around long ago. When I realized I'd become walking on flat ground, I noticed the air smelled like old wood. I sneezed as the dust gathered up into my nostrils. I didn't care about the cool air crawling up my spine. I didn't care about the odd feeling I had down here. Normally I'd be terrified of such darkness, but my mind was too clouded with self-hatred and

misery to feel fear. I walked on into the blackness, not seeing anything for what felt like hours. Then, I stopped in my tracks. In the distance there was a dim light. I continued toward it, goosebumps on my arms from the dripping cold. When I made it there, I realized there was a light bulb, illuminating an old-looking, rusty door. A handwritten sign in smeared ink, red.

Caution, do not enter. I snickered a little, and I think it hurt me now. I was sure I'd reach the limit in mental and emotional pain. Physical pain seemed so small now, so weak. I stared at the door when I realized I was attracted to it. It's hard to explain. It was almost as if someone was calling me to warns it. I absent-mindedly reached out for the door handle.

When I felt uncontrollably sick, I looked in the other direction and threw up everywhere. I wiped my mouth with my arm and turn back to the open door. This time I managed to get the handle without bathing, but as my fingers rested on it, couldn't help but feel extremely sick. I brushed it off with some nausea from the medicine. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. I emptied my stomach again, looking up into the room.

I saw there was a single old light bulb. The empty space was a dark orange, making the corner is dark, and I'll admit I began to get pretty scared here. But what happened next is unexplainable, at least to me. Something behind me shoved me into the room, and the door slammed shut behind me. My heart pounded heavily against my chest as the hot suffocating air poured into my lungs. I was shaking violently, throwing up everywhere. I think it was the silence afterwards that terrified.

me. Everything was quiet. Still, there was nothing in this room apart from the four walls, but it seemed abnormally quiet. Something wasn't right here at all, especially now that I was locked inside some room in the deepest part of Ginger's asylum. I stood against the door to my knees, staring at the wall, the sweat trickled down my face, almost as if I was waiting for the wall to grow arms and slam me into it over and over until my skull was crushed. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Instinctively, I turned. Nothing. My eyes were playing tricks on me, but then it happened again, and again, and yet again. Then a shadow appeared before it. It was in the shape of a short person.

perhaps a child. But what I heard next wasn't a child's voice. No, not even a human voice. What I heard was enough to send violent chills down my spine, making the fear pump through my veins like venom. Hello there, Jessica. It said with an emphasis on the S's in my name. His voice sounded like ten put together.

How do you know my name? What the fuck are you? Get me out of here. I whined desperately, my voice trembling. But this was only responded to by horrid laughter. I'm hardly silly. I know everyone's name. It said, mocking me.

The shadow then darted from the center of my room to a dark corner. You can't leave just yet. I screamed. A lot. I was terrified. Don't be scared, my old Jessica, it said. Harley doesn't want to hurt you. What do you want with me, then?

My body was cemented into its spot. I couldn't move. I don't even know how I managed to speak. Harley wants to be your friend, Jessica. We can be best friends forever. Began to scream louder and louder. It got out of its corner and made its way to me. Don't be afraid, little Jessica.

Harley just needs a friend. It moved closer and closer. I was paralyzed. Forever. His voice echoed through my ears. Forever. Suddenly, an unseen force made my mouth open, and I saw the creature sliding into me.

when it had gone completely I began to cry and I heard it speaking to me Harley wants to keep you safe it said you belong to me now I couldn't stop screaming or crying I stood yanked on the door handle

and broke it the door slid open and I darted out into the darkness stop that it said the creepy childlike tone faded away now it was a bitter demonic tone go back now tears rolled down my face as I ran into the blackness anyway knowing there was a being inside of me in my

soul stop running it screamed in my head a sharp pain shot through my neck all the way down to my knees making me collapse I tried to get back up but every time I moved a muscle it felt as if part of my body were being dipped in acid. Harley just laughed at my painful screams. Bones began to snap. He was breaking me from the inside. I threw up even more. The taste in my mouth was now metallic. Blood. Stop doing this to me, I cried, but he only laughed more. You should have listened to Harley, it said. continuing to break. So be careful.

Always keep the lights on. Never go into abandoned rooms. Don't go exploring at night. And never think, not even for a second, that the shadows you see from the corners of your eyes are just optical tricks. Because Harley is always looking for new friends.

But, most importantly, Always listen to Harley. Think about your health for a second. Are your eyes the first thing that come to mind? Probably not. But our eyes go through a lot. From squinting at screens to driving at night. That's why regular eye exams matter.

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There's always a desire in our minds to explore the unknown, the mysterious, and get an adrenaline rush out of it. As for me, I get my adrenaline from urban exploration, which involves exploring structures that have been abandoned and left around at the mercy of mother nature. Well, urban exploration is pretty popular nowadays, thanks to the internet. If you're an urban explorer with a YouTube account, there's a good chance that your videos will become viral. Exploration of abandoned places always has its dangers, and these dangers include collapse floors and ceilings, police, gang fights, toxic mould and carcinogenic fibres from old insulation. There are, of course, reports of paranormal activity in some of these places, which makes sense. as some of these places have are very dark and disturbing parts.

I myself had a run-in with the paranormal a few months back. At my university, I'm currently enrolled in a cinematography class to pursue my degree in film production. For Halloween, my instructor of Mr. Anderson, had assigned a Halloween-themed project. Our project was to simply create a scary short film. As a result of my hyperactive imagination, I came up with the idea of filming something that was terrifying in real life.

I wanted to go ghost hunting at a haunted location, catch something scary on camera, and blow the other films from my fellow students out of the water. All the places I'd explored up to that point had zero paranormal activity, but I figured my latest destination could change that. At the edge of town, on a giant hill, there was a complex of buildings that was once a lunatic asylum. There's no modern feel to its appearance. When you gaze upon the massive stone towers, you feel like you're right in the world.

the middle of a horror game. I'll present a little bit of history, but I'll try not to bore you with too many details. The asylum was constructed in the late 1800s under the Kirkbride plan created by Thomas Kirkbride. Kirkbride believed that the insane should be offered large rooms, fresh air and sunshine to cure them of their illness. The asylum was meant to be a safe, comfortable place for the mentally ill, but it eventually became hell on earth for its patience. According to federal investigators, they were reports of patients breaking out of their rooms and going on murderous rampages, killing any staff members in their way. Suicide was common there, as some people hung themselves from the ceiling with bed sheets, while others dip their heads in pots of boiling water stolen from the kitchen. The torture of innocent patients became the norm, as some were restrained for so long that their skin grew over their restraints.

Some patients were forced to sit in baths of boiling hot or freezing cold water for hours on. end. Well, some patients underwent lobotomies. In a lobotomy procedure, an ice pick, would be shoved through the patient's eye socket, and the frontal lobe would be disconnected from the rest of the brain. Some patients would become crippled, while others would be reduced to non-responsive vegetables. The place was eventually closed in the 1980s due to abuse and neglect. With the amount of security swarming the place, it's almost impossible to break in, but the few teenagers who succeed in doing so have told of all kinds of crazy stories like slamming doors, floating heads, glowing eyes, moving wheelchairs and disembodied screens. One of the hallways

in the building has been nicknamed the shadow hallway, because shadowy apparitions supposedly roamed this place. Now, as much as I wanted to explore the place, I didn't want to be an idiot and face charges for trespassing. Luckily, my best friend Dennis is the sheriff's son, so I asked him to pull a few strings for me when it worked. The razor-wire gate at the entrance was unlocked for both of us, and I had the sheriff's note of permission in my pocket, in case we were confronted by a security guard that didn't get the memo. Dennis came with me because we'd partnered up for the project.

Being a history buff like me, the chance of exploring an abandoned institution over a hundred years old was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He researched the history just like I did and printed a copy of the old campus map off the internet, so we would know which building was which. We decided to explore the main hospital building first, since it was massive compared to the other buildings.

Or once we were inside, we were absolutely blown away by the condition of the interior. The inside was in near perfect condition, as if it had been closed just yesterday. Thanks to the efforts of the police, nobody had a chance to vandalise or spray graffiti on the walls. The ceiling hadn't collapsed, which was a blessing because I didn't want wet pieces of rust to fall on my neck. The only damage we could find was just some peeling wallpaper.

Everything inside was left behind when the hospital closed. Wheelchairs, beds, syringes, gurneys, medical equipment, and papers were scattered in almost every room. After half an hour, we found the electroshock therapy room, where many patients had met a painful demise, as they were given often high levels of electric current that their bodies could not handle. Dennis pointed to the wall. Dude, look! I looked at the wall.

Attached to it were two thick electric cords. Dennis glanced at me and grinned. All the money in the world wouldn't convince me to plug my arms into those. No kidding, I replied. We left the therapy room and started walking down yet another dark hallway. The building was literally like a giant maze. He both saw it at the same time. A giant dark shadow rose out of the floor.

Its green, glowing eyes, flashlight headlights as it stared at us. My hands were shaking with excitement as I pointed my camcorder straight out the thing. It eventually turned its head away from us and sang back into the floor. Did you get that on camera? Please tell me you got that on camera. Dennis exclaimed. I smiled. Yeah, sure did.

Dennis high-fired me. Oh, we're going to ace this project now. Our film will be the best in the class. Right at that moment, my camcorder shut off. I clicked the on-off switch multiple times with no response. I can't believe this. What? The battery died.

This doesn't make any sense. I just charged it right before we left. Dennis shrugged. Could be ghosts. Plenty of paranormal investigators have reported the same thing happening to their electronics. Plus, we got that ghost on camera, so we're still going to beat the other projects by our landslide. Yeah, that's a possibility, and we still have the whole complex to explore for the night. Their battery can't stop us.

We eventually found ourselves in Ward D, where the most violent female patients had been kept. On each side of the hallway, the patient rooms have thick wooden doors with giant brass locks on them. and that's when it happened without warning every single door simultaneously slammed shut with a series of loud bangs he froze she it appeared there wasn't a flash of light misty fog no stuff like you'd see in cheesy horror movies she just appeared out of nowhere she was wearing a simple white hospital gown Her skin was as white as a skeleton.

Her eyes had no pupils, no irises, no veins. They were just empty, white circles. A few wist of blonde and hair stuck out of her head at random angles, like strands of hay on a broom. She spoke. You, why are you two here? You're here to watch me suffer, aren't you? Well, despite her terrifying appearance,

her voice was smooth and sweet, dripping with honey as she spoke. We stood still, frozen with shock. She continued. Doctors, both of you told me that you wanted to cure me, so I could return to society, but you were lying. I knew you were lying. Every time you locked me in an empty room, and every time you shocked me and burned my flesh,

I saw that wicked look of glee in both of your eyes. You didn't want to cure me. I was just an experiment to you, a guinea pig for you to toil. around with. And eventually you two got bored with me, so you wanted to have one last experiment. While I was fully conscious, you strapped me to an operating table. You wanted to slice my brain to pieces and watch me scream in the process. You wanted to kill me in the most painful way possible and enjoy my attempts to break free from the straps. And you succeeded. My eyes wandered to

her hands and I saw the object she was clutching in her right hand. It was an ice pick. She noticed me looking at the pick and smiled. Now she smiled, her face stretched itself apart like bubblegown. She spoke one more time. You see, doctors, all I want is a little revenge. Is that too much to ask? The mouth then opened into a large gaping hole as she unleashed the loudest, most blood-curdling scream I've ever heard in my life, and I hope to never hear it again. It wasn't just your ordinary scream. A scream entered my head, and it occupied all of my thoughts. He stirred up all of my fears and amplified them to the point.

It was causing waves of pain to travel throughout my body. I don't know how else to describe it. It was like she was an embodiment of fear itself. Run, Dennis yelled as loud as he could. She rushed at us with lightning speed and we ran down the staircases like the building was on fire. When we reached the ground floor we took a leap of faith and jumped out of a window frame with no glass present. Once we're outside, she didn't follow us. Is she gone?

Dennis's face was white with fear. I took some deep breaths. It looks like it. Dennis pointed a trembling finger at the hospital. I'll tell you one thing, man. I'm never going in there again. Whatever those doctors did, it made her evil. At this point, we were soaked with sweat as we walked home,

looking behind us every few seconds. And yes, we had nightmares. Who wouldn't, after experiencing what we had? I'm not going to end this story by warning you not to explore abandoned asylums, as most people are just going to ignore me and continue to do so anyway. I'm simply warning you to be. be cautious. Sometimes pursuing our hobbies can have unexpected results. On by the way, if it was any compensation, we did end up getting an A-plus on our film

project. Penhurst, asylum. Kill them. Kill them. Over and over again, the voices in my head tell me the exact same thing. I'd hate to admit, but the offer sounds tempting as I look at the other people sitting at the table across from me in the hospital cafeteria. Oh, I believe I forgot to mention that I am in an asylum deep in the back roads of Pennsylvania. I'm sure that you haven't heard the true story of this place, due to the fact that some of the world's worst experiments have been held here, and for the sake of the people, the events that have happened have been mostly covered up. This place is called the Penhurst Asylum. The Penhurst Asylum, as you may know is recognized today as a haunted tourist attraction but I remember it as the hellhole that

I called home for many years I leave here for you my journal entries during my time in Pennhurst while under the experimentation of Dr. Heinrich Chakajan October 1982 I've been transferred to this place from my former prison in Europe my new home is called Pennhurst and I guess it was an old school or hospital honestly I wonder why the fuck I was transferred her in the first place. Well, I guess I have no right to complain since I'm sentenced for life. It's better than the alternative. Actually, now I think of it, I'd almost rather be dead.

To know that all I have to look forward to is the eventual occurrence of death. The desire to go on slowly fades away as the days drag on. I had rumours from the other inmates that there's a doctor here who has inmates taken to him and they just, well, disappear. I can tell you now that I do not wish to meet him, and hopefully I won't. February, 1983. Over the past four months,

the inmates have been disappearing more and more. Even my new friend, Darren. Darren and I met during lunch about two months back. He and I hit it off very well. Turns out he also used to live in Pennsylvania, just as I had before we were transferred to Europe. to our new prison home. We discussed why we were here in the first place.

I was sentenced for murder of a family of six. He was sentenced for manslaughter of, I believe, two people. Funny enough, we didn't let our past actions corrupt our friendship. We actually looked at it as a form of common interests. But Darren was taken away a few days ago. Not entirely sure why. I need to find out what happened to him, and I hope I'm not next.

April, 1983. The guards in my section seem to be taking different inmates away. I can tell my time is coming. I don't know what to do. Escape. I'm not sure how the hell I'm going to get out of this place. It's too heavily guarded. I hear them coming to my cell.

I don't want to die. March, 1984. He took me away. He took me away and did things to me, unexplainable things. The flash of lights, the blur of red mist. My entire back is burning. He cut it open and performed some kind of surgery on it.

I can feel the stitches in my back, sealing up where he cut into my flesh. But, wait, I feel something in my back. In the center of my back on both sides of my spine. I feel some sort of lump on each side. May, 1984, the lumps in my back seem to be growing larger. It feels as if they're about to burst. I can't take the pain anymore.

I must find out what the fuck Dr. Heinrich did to me. I'm cutting open my back and taking out whatever it is he put in there. May 1984, later that night. I cut my back open with a piece of the mirror that was in my cell. I can't take the lumps out and they seem to be growing. What the fuck has he done to me? I hear screaming coming from the upper floors. More prisoners being taken away?

Why am I lasting so long? What's so special about me? Why can't he just kill me already? I have so long for death and this sure as hell isn't helping. I may as well slip my own throat with this mirror shard. You know what? I may just... Wait, I hear the guards coming.

Oh God, no. Not again. I don't want to see the doctor again. He's going to do those horrible experiments on me again. August, 1985. I'm surprised I'm still alive. I've guessed I've been unconscious for over a year now. I'm horribly thin and, well, almost dead.

I wish I was. A lumps on my back have grown into large, horn-like bones. The bones ripped through my flesh and now my back is completely covered in blood. I should be dead. I should be dead. I should be fucking dead by now. But no, he won't let me die. That freaking insane doctor, if only I could get my hands on him, I'll tear his throat out.

November, 1985. I hate how the other inmates look at me in the cafeteria. They see what Hyricks done to me, and they stare in fear at the monstrosity that he's created. Actually, I'm surprised they even feed us at all in this damn place. Although the portions of food are usually a small plate of steamed chopped potatoes or something simple like that. The fearful eyes of the other inmates focus on my torn and bloody back.

I can feel their stares burning into my mind. kill them kill them kill them hear those voices through my head and I thought of killing every single one of these motherfuckers sounds absolutely satisfied January 1986 I heard the inmates were planning an escape from this hellhole sounds like fun I hope to take this opportunity to kill Dr Heinrich myself and maybe a few of the other inmates that glare at me whenever I'm eating. I've decided that I'm going to eat them. Those horrible fucking people I have to deal with on top of the agonizing pain from the experiments that Dr. Heinrich has done to me. I can't take it anymore. The time to act is now. I will be free from this damn facility. I'll start with the assholes in the cafeteria. Kill them off as quickly and as brutally as possible. Then I'll make my escape. I'm ready. January 1986, later that day.

I've decided to keep this journal with me so I can remember all the shit I went through in my time at Penhurst Asylum. Truly, it was a living hell. My favourite part, though, was the very end of my stay. I held myself to the flesh of the other inmates. Oh, I was so hungry. Not anymore, though. Taring my way through the asylum, I found the body of my old. found the body of my old friend Darren.

So, I did all I could think of. I took the body with me. Supposedly the building burst into flames on the second floor of the administrative building. Good. That place deserves to burn down. I've retreated away from Pennhurst Asylum. I can't stand the look of that place. I keep Darren with me in my new home as a couple of miles away from Pennhurst.

A small rusty old shack, but it's a better home than ever. any other place I've ever known. The rotting stench of Darren's corpse is getting unbearable though. I guess I'll have to eat him. I wouldn't dare bury him. I don't want him to waste away in the ground. So why not become a part of me?

Lately I've been so hungry. No more bodies to feed him. Normal food just isn't the same now that I've tasted human flesh. And I must feed. Soon. There's a small town nearby. The young ones look so delicious. Such new and soft skin.

It'll be wonderful. I'm sure the adults wouldn't mind if I just took one, or a few. My friends and I used to do a lot of geocaching after our senior year in high school. For those who don't know what geocashing is, it's essentially a worldwide scavenger hunt. People will select sights and conceal a new. geocash somewhere unobtrusive, then post GPS coordinates on geocaching websites where other searches can download the cords and locate the cache. Usually, people who've found the object, often it's a chest or something hollow, will leave a note or small personal memento for future

searches to find and appreciate. There are several types of geocaches, and most of them are thematic in nature, such as scenic destinations, romantic sights, hard-to-reach areas, and so on. This story begins when my friends and I decided to try a series of purportedly haunted locales within about an hour's drive of our hometown. It began innocently enough. Most of the sites had spooky lag stories that were, of course, entirely fabricated. So we had a great time scaring the piss out of each other and generally creeping ourselves out. We'd begun searching after the sun had set to enhance the creep factor, but by around midnight, most of our large group had dwindled off and gone their separate ways.

When we reached our last award, there was just myself, Rebecca, Kevin and Evan left, and we were determined to knock it off our list. Rebecca was our guide for the night, in charge of putting in the coordinates and reading us the backstory behind each site. So, while I drove, she began reading about the last one out loud to the rest of us. Now, I'm paraphrasing here, but it was something along the lines of this. Henkel Asylum, constructed in the early 1900s, the James Henkel Asylum was built to how subvergeoning population of the criminal. insane. Men who had committed vile crimes, rape, murder, torture, without signs of remorse, were deemed mentally unstable and sent to this facility for further study and rehabilitation.

Once committed, very few criminals were ever released back into society, and those that were, usually had been given frontal lobotomies, a popular experimental procedure at the time, or electroshock therapy, both of which rendered the patient nearly brain dead, capable of performing only rudimentary tasks. Stories. Contemporary visitors to the asylum report hearing banging noises,

cell doors opening and closing, and hearing cackling laughter that is abruptly cut short. It was pretty stand fair compared to the rest of the sites we'd visited that night, and we naturally had a good time, psyching each other out for the next 15 minutes while I drove us to the asylum. We'd all heard about it. It was in our local area, after all,

and we knew it had been condemned and abandoned since as long as any of us could remember. So we'd figured it'd be a great place to run around and be reckless teenagers, without the risk of getting yelled at by the cops. When we finally arrived, it looked like something straight out of one of those cheesy bee movies a show on sci-fi. Chain-linked fence with barbed wire around the perimeter. Two guard towers flanking the main gate,

which was, of course, chained and locked shut with a big no-transpassing sign hanging from it. The asylum itself was decrepit, looking like it hadn't been touched for decades, which was surprising, since we grew up in a pretty nice area, where the municipal lawmakers

tried to keep everything looking spiffy for the tourists. Needless to say, we promptly ignored the sign on the front gate and hauled ourselves over, cameras and GPS in hand, and walked towards the asylum. Now, given our attitude towards the previous sights, you've probably gathered that I'm somewhat of a skeptic. I believe that there are paranormal things that can't be explained yet, but I'm not exactly summoning demons in front of a bathroom mirror. So, when we opened the main door to the asylum, conveniently unlocked, I dismissed the cold burst of wind as just stale pent-up air rushing out after being trapped inside for so long. My friends, bravado, however, quickly disappeared, and they began shuffling their feet nervously at the entrance, hesitant to cross that invisible threshold. I took point, chivying them along with prodding taunts.

and eventually everyone was inside. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Things were relatively clean, and the entire building looked like it had been gutted. The paint was peeling, tiles popping up here and there, and the metal trim near the baseboards of the wall, was in desperate need of some rust be gone,

but aside from that, the place was entirely empty. No crazy-ass chairs with leather straps, no gurneys lying haphazardly around, just an old reception desk and two hallways leading off to the different wings. We explored for a few minutes, freaking ourselves out whenever we heard an old pipe rattle or rats squeak, but otherwise it was relatively uneventful. Our fears, safely suppressed by the presence of each other, we began to get more adventurous, opening doors and peeking inside. The rooms were all empty, of course.

Whatever company had been contracted to clear the place out did a pretty decent job of removing any creepy decor. Ravado returning by the minute. Evan and Kevin dropped back without Rebecca or me noticing. They began running around, making noises to try and scare us. Okay, I'm not going to lie. It worked until I realized they were. gone and probably the cause of all the racket, then returned, laughing and breathless, to a

decidedly paler Rebecca. She seemed to be a lot more put off by the whole place than the rest of us, or at least she didn't hide it as well. She quietly suggested, we leave, not to be outdone by the other guys of the group. I told her she was more than welcome to wait in the car, if she wanted, but I was going to stick round for a few more minutes. exasperated but defeated she finally caved and followed us where the GPS was leading the second floor this is where I started to feel genuinely scared before I was just kind of creeped out but there was something about that whole floor that literally gave me the shivers despite it being a warm summer night we started opening doors like before but we were all a lot more

over about it. I guess I wasn't the only one who was feeling weird. Finally, about midway through the hall, we opened the door to a room, and there, lying in the middle of the floor was an honest to God, a straight jacket. I'm not bullshitting you. Every other room was devoid of objects, but there it was. A fucking straight jacket. in the middle of the floor of some random ass room in a condemned mental asylum.

We all kind of looked at each other, and with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Um, guys, you seeing what I'm seeing. And of course, trying to be a matron man to show off a Rebecca, I piped up with the most ridiculous idea I could think of at the time. Dude, I'm going to put it on. years of horror flicks and creepy pastor should have trained me to not put on the creepy straitjacket in the creepy hall in the creepy asylum but teenage dumb fuckery won over and once the words were out i well just couldn't was out nobody said anything they just kind of looked at me

expectantly waiting to see if i'd follow through with my boast determined not to be called a pussy for the rest of the night. I walked forward into the room and bent down to pick up the moth-ridden restraining device. As I got closer, though, I noticed it wasn't moth-ridden at all, but it was actually in pretty decent condition,

that is, compared to the rest of the place, which, as I've mentioned, was in shambles. I mean, it had a few stains here and there, but it didn't really smell and it seemed intact enough to put off. As soon as I picked it up, though, I got this overwhelming sense of dread. You know, that drop in the pit of your stomach,

right as you go over the lip of a roller coaster, well, that feeling, the bottom of your gut that says, I'm going to die. I just know it. Yep, well, I got that. Really strong. and totally ignored it.

My desire not to die was outweighed, as it often is in teenagers, by my need to look cool for my friends. So, I slipped my hands in the sleeves one at a time until it hung loosely from my shoulders. Now, if you've ever seen a straitjacket, you know that you can't tie it up yourself. The whole point is to essentially cross your arms across your chest, and tie the sleeves behind your back to prevent whoever's inside from moving their arms, presumably to stop them from hurting themselves or others. So, as I stood there in the middle of the room, I called out to Rebecca. Hey, Becca, help me tie this thing off.

She looked, if you'll excuse the pun, as pale as a ghost, but she managed to squeak out. I don't think this is a good idea. But again, after some prodding and encouraging, I convinced her to begin tying the sleeves behind my back. Evan and Kevin just stood in the doorway. Expressions are a mix of admiration and incredulity. At that point in time, I felt like a badass.

Well, for about three seconds. As soon as Rebecca finished up the last lace, the door to the cell slammed shut. Right in Kevin and Evans' faces. I never felt a breeze, and when I asked them later, both of them fervently denied closing it themselves. Skeptic that I am, I still chalked up to us leaving the front door open

and changing air pressures and all that, but it scared the piss out of us nonetheless. Then I felt a pressure on my chest. like someone was sitting on it, or as if someone was pulling the sleeves tighter behind me, and it began to get harder to breathe. I couldn't even summon enough air to whisper, much less call out for help.

My vision narrowed to tiny specks. I swear I heard someone laughing shrilly as I neared unconsciousness. The pressure increased with a sudden tug, and my world went black. When I woke up, my vision was foggy, or at least I thought it was, until I realized it wasn't just foggy. It was dark, like staring through a lens that's been collecting soot. I blinked a few times, and the darkness wavered, but didn't dissipate. Now, I've passed out and blacked out before, but whenever I woke up, it was nothing like that.

Either my vision gradually cleared up, or it was a bit of. blurry, but never in my life if I had been able to recreate the shadowy haze I saw in the asylum that night. Then, from the murky depths, two small pinpoints of light appeared a few inches in front of my face, glaring a lurid red, and a dim echo of the laughter I heard before surrounded me. As soon as they appeared, however, they were replaced by two brilliant shuddered of incandescence. Evan and Kevin, shining flashlights down on my face.

The last thing I remember hearing before I lost consciousness was Rebecca's scream and the door banging open, which probably explains why those two were standing over me with flashlights in hand. I gradually became aware

of a dull murmur that I recognised as Rebecca asking me, please, wake up, please, please, please, wake up. as she shook me. She just kept saying it over and over again, kept sobbing and shaking me.

When my vision cleared enough, I glanced over and saw that her eyes were completely red, like she'd been crying for a while. Trying to muster some shred of manliness, I found myself speaking in a surprisingly calm voice, given how I was actually feeling. I remember distinctly what I said, word for word.

Get those freaking flashlights out of my face, you douche-backs. Expecting a laugh, or at least some reciprocal insolence. I was kind of shocked when they just looked at each other quizzically, seemingly surprised. You're okay? Evan asked, incredulously. Yeah, why the hell wouldn't I be? Becca just tied the things too tight I couldn't breathe so I passed out

How long was they out for anyway? I inquired Apparently It had been long enough for them to untie the straight jacket Allowing me to rub a hand across my face Another shared look of disbelief Dude Kevin began slowly

You've been out for like 15 minutes We were about to call nine one one. We kept shaking you. I haven't even tried pinching you so hard he drew blood, but you wouldn't wake up. I felt a cold chill run down my spine, on the straight jacket, hanging limply from my shoulders, suddenly began to feel a bit tighter. Hastening to pull it off, I tried not to look panicked as I threw it to a corner of the room. Rebecca just sat there, still she shaking and crying a little bit, and in spite of the ordeal I'd just gone through, I had enough sense to go over and try to comfort her. We left that room without a word, Geo Cashby damned,

and walked back to the car in complete silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from Rebecca. The sun started coming up, and as I dropped everyone off at their respective homes, we said quiet goodbyes. Rebecca was the last stop Before I finally made the trip home myself Being the gentleman that I am I walked her to her door But she paused at the entry And looked me in the eye

In the grey light of dawn I could see her eyes Were still reddened from all the crying She was very quiet And she said I have to ask you something Yeah sure What is it? I said

half expecting another You sure you're all right Like I've been getting the whole ride home And she surprised me by asking Do you know how long it took Evan and Kevin to get the door open Her eyes held a look that I could never forget It was raw fear Something happened in that fraction of time

Between me blacking out and them getting in there That had absolutely terrified her and seeing that look, I realized. I was blacked out for 15 minutes. How long was she alone in that room? No, I replied slowly. How long? Five minutes.

They said it took five minutes for them to open that stupid door. I was in there, and I saw you, and I saw she broke off another sob stopping her mid-sentence at that point I didn't want to know

I still don't want to know I gripped her by her shoulders and said firmly Rebecca it doesn't matter no matter what you saw I'm here you're here

we're both safe it doesn't matter nothing bad will happen, I promise. She just nodded numbly, opened her door and walked inside her house. The next time I saw her, she was back to her usual self. But whenever I bring up that night to her, she freezes up and turns to stone,

refusing to discuss it. I stand by what I said before. I don't know what happened to that room, and I don't ever want to know but I still have nightmares about those two glowing red lights in the darkness and sometimes as I lapse into sleep I hear faint echoes of shrill laughter following me down into the depths of unconsciousness if you're reading this my name is Derek

that's all I want to say I'm a dangerous man, someone you wouldn't like to be around. Whenever I'm around people, I have this urge to start a confrontation. I'm an aggressive type. Let's say, I found my spot in an asylum for 30 years or wouldn't have been in for that time. I strangled a man to death in a bar, broke someone's face with a wine bottle, killed someone with a knife. And then things started escalating from there. I was arrested and it was being put

away for what would have been a long time. And then I put myself into even bigger trouble as I tried to assault the officers that were apprehending me. Broken officer's nose as I headbutted him as hard as I could. Then tried to shove the other one off of me. I grabbed one of the guns, shot the guy with a busted nose in the chest two times. The officer behind me shot me with a taser As I clasped to the ground convulsing and thrown into the car as the officer started speaking into his comms Rubbing his eyes distressed

He shakes his head and gets into the car Waiting until someone came by to retrieve the officer And escort me to the precinct Weeks later I ended up in an asylum Where I'd spend the better part of ten years In prison with other unstable cellmates Some aggressive like me And some just too psycho

I heard these stories about asylums I always thought it was a joke A creepy atmosphere Weird shit going down And a breed of people that you wouldn't believe I've seen crazy people here Dressed in straitjackets and screaming in some weird language I wasn't scared of them

I would have liked to shut him up So I wouldn't have to hear hear them every day and night. I haven't seen some of this weird shit yet. Not that any of it would bother me anyway. I have a strong stomach. Most of that came from being aggressive over the years. Grew up with parents that didn't care much about me at all. Didn't care that I'd have a bad day at school as some kid or bullies beat me up. And if I did try to get their attention, they'd threaten me. So I had to learn to stop being so scared. so helpless, and I guess that ended up biting me later on.

Now, in prison, the way I'd pass my time will be working out in my cell, or staring at the freaking ceiling. I wasn't allowed out of myself. I was deemed too dangerous. I figured it was better that way. At least I had that. Went on like this for a long time, but then one prisoner checked him.

that actually made me wonder what he'd done to get into this asylum. He was quiet, calm, and he was never let out of his self. He was a weird man, I'll tell you that. One of the prisoners across myself, well, next to it, that combed himself with a knife in the gut and died on the spot. This new prisoner, I'll call him Steve, took his place. I'd see him every day. hunched over, his hands together, just staring at the floor.

He only moves when it's time to eat. I don't notice him sleeping either, well, from what I could tell. He just sits there, motionless. It weirded me out a bit. There was something different about him. One day I decided to shout at him through myself, asking what he's in for. He just looks at me, blankly. His eyes were a little odd, and they never blinked, and they looked like they've seen some shit.

He shakes his head, no, and then just stares at the floor again. What the hell did that mean? I decided to ask again, more demanding now. He didn't move this time. Well, over time I tried to ignore him, but he was just so out of place. He never threatened anyone And he never spoke What the hell did this guy do

I shook my head and just tried to focus on push-ups As the days went on Steve just sat there Looking at the ground like a freaking psycho Someone tries to talk to him Like I did And he didn't respond And this led to more people talking

And then he put his hands to his lips Shushing everyone as he spoke finally, but we still didn't know what the hell was going on. He muttered something weird, something none of us understood. One of them shouted back. What does he mean?

Then he just proceeded his daily routine. The prisoner who shouted it finally had enough and banned on the bars as he shouted at him, asking what his deal is and why he's in here. Why he never answers back. why he's looking at the ground like some sicko. Steve must have been pissed, since he then directed his gaze towards the prisoner,

and has never turned away since then. He was starting to freak some of us out. And one day during meal time, this other prisoner started coughing. It sounded like it was serious. Then I saw blood outside his cell, and then some more. The guards dropped the tray and opened the sun.

cell, trying to tend to the prisoner. Steve then directed his gaze back to the ground, unfazed by what had just unfolded. Well, he was dragged out of his cell, coughing up more blood. He was taken to the infirmary who didn't hear back from him for hours. A lot of us took a bet that he probably died in there. What the hell had Steve done? I try not to look at him from there on hours. But now, every night he whispers to himself he never speaks during the day it's honestly

freakier that he talks now another prisoner was dragged out of his cell coughing up blood like the first one did but this time his limbs started to contort beyond their limits and he died right there

Steve never acknowledged any of this gee this guy is a psycho Starting to see why he might have been put in here. It's like these people are possessed or some shit. Granted, I never liked anyone here, but this is getting too weird for my tastes. I've always enjoyed breaking bones,

but honestly, there's nothing quite like someone throwing their arms back and bones popping out. Yeah, I've broken bones, but I've never seen anything like this before. The guards are doing rounds around ourselves, concerned about what's going on here. They speaking to their comms every couple minutes, reporting their findings. Nothing out of place so far. One of the prisoners speaks up and tells the guards,

That SOB is crazy. Get us out of here! Guards don't acknowledge him. Moments later, another prisoner mentions the crazy prisoner. Then another one speaks up. The two guards look at each other, whispering. They've seen the prisoners and how on edge they are. And then something none of us could explain happens. Something grabs one of the guards from behind and starts to suffocate him. The guard grabs his throat as he starts to lose oxygen. His eyes turning black.

His arms contorty. He dies on the spot. And the other guard calls it in. But immediately after, the dead guard. God's tongue lashes out and grabs the other one by the throat, thrashing him around. Everyone backs up in their cells, including me now. Everyone is shouting in horror. The dead guard's limbs snapped back in place, and it's like something is controlling him.

He stands to his feet with his crooked legs, and then we hear a loud snap as the other guard is slammed onto the ground. The God's tongue had snapped the other one's neck. and then broken his spine. Well, probably broke more than that. The possessed guard's tongue continues to hang out, long enough to touch the ground, tainted with dried bloodstains and vomit.

The guard looks at a random prisoner and rips off the bars from the prison cell with his tongue and proceed it to do the most terrible thing. The guard's tongue goes through the prisoner's ear, extends through the other end, goes into one of his nostrils, and rips out his eye sockets as his head falls in a disgusting mess. The screams would have kept me warm at night if I hadn't looked at what had just happened.

This must be what hell is like. Right then, I begin to have second thoughts about my life choices, about the things I've done to get myself here, about how I could be next. Now, don't take this as me worsening out. Take it as a wake-up call or a death wish. I look at Steve And that sick bastard

Is just rocking back and fall Smiling I hope he's happy Well I hope that monster rips him apart The monster grows two more tendrils on his back Ripping open his chest and pulling out his heart It's not beating anymore The blood and guts spill over the floor

As the gar begins to scream in It's an unhuman cry I don't know if it was was happy, sad or angry, but I'll be damned if it wasn't heard in the slightest. Oh, maybe this is my damnation after all I've done. The guard starts to transform as his face begins to give way, his mouth taking place on his face with hundreds of teeth, blood spilling out through him. His eye sock is rolling around on the floor, turning into a black blob and just sticking to the ground. This,

is beyond insane. The creature's arms turn into pinches with spikes, sticking out around his appendages. They look like bones. It can't be, but everything just seems so bizarre now. This has to be a nightmare, or some shit. Something Steve did. This can't be real. The creature's back tendrils shoot at Steve's cell,

rip out the bars, and pull him towards it as they bond together in one body. growing two smaller arms at the sides of his ribcages, ripping out two of the previously mentioned bones to use as weapons. Now, the creature looks at me, growling menacingly. I suppose this is it. I suppose this is how I die. There's no way I can fight that thing. Maybe I deserve this.

But at least I'll try to take it like a man. But then guards come, and a frozen in. fear as they see this abomination down the hallway. It turns his head backwards and sees them, laughing grimly. A guard opens the cells on this floor and tells everyone to run as fast as they can. None of us protested, and we all ran like hell. But I decided to look back. The guard start firing, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything. The monster's back tendrils grab the rib cage weapons, and then propel towards the other guards. I decided I wasn't going to look back anymore,

but then I saw some prisoners getting grabbed by their ankles, falling flat on their faces and screaming on their way back to the creature. I didn't want to look back. I just kept running. Oh, I couldn't shake the sound of bones cracking, the sound of silent screams, only for something else to take its place. Geez, they're all being transformed. I just want to get out of here. I kick on the door to get out, but it requires a key.

Damn, I think to myself. I kick the door in frustration and decide to beat on it until something happens. There wasn't much else I could do. And then someone with an exposed ribcage comes up against the door, banging on it, trying to get to me. It's going to give soon. I look back and see dismembered bodies littered across the hallway. Oh, what a terrifying sight.

The monster has grown in size. Heads from the prisoners seemingly a part of the abomination now, but still screaming. Their screams of that of terrible pain and fear. Their eyes pulled open by the tendrils, watching terror unfold. Tears falling down their eyes. Blood on the body where their heads lie. I'm sticking out of the morbid figure And the figure has developed a sort of spider-like lower body

Quickly coming my way I look back And the monster busts down the door Still trying to get me through the glass But as soon as it breaks through the glass I finally managed to push the door aside And try to keep running The impact of the door

And being slammed against the hard floor Hurt's like hell but whatever it takes I have to keep running. My heart is pounding in my chest. My head's racing with thoughts about what could come if I get caught by that thing. My adrenaline is at an insane high. It only gets worse as I see more dismembered bodies and monsters wandering the asylum, butchering so many people.

Run, I think to myself every time I see a body. Or gone cut in pieces still cromers. and don't stop until you exit the asylum. But shortly after I get pinned down by a monster, it tries to bite my head off, but I grab a nearby chunk of rock that was broken off from a wall and swinging it at the creature. It barely does anything against it. The creature then thrusts a blade into my abdomen, making me scream. I then feel something crawling inside, and I try to hit the abomination in an

expose part of its body, the side of its head. I hit it as hard as I can, digging my thumb into its eye. The monster screams as its head bobs and weaves, trying to shake me off. Then thrust the blade in my stomach even deeper in anger, and I can't let go. I dig my thumb into his other eye, and if I had a third thumb, well, I would shove that into an eye too, resting in his mouth with a razor-sharp tongue coming out of the centre. I try to dig my thumbs in deeper into the eye-sockets, tightening my grip around his head. Then I hear a loud, booming, bone-chilling scream behind me. I look up to see the beast with a dozen heads has increased in size yet again.

A gluttonous spider demon making its way towards me, with multiple screams all in use. unison. I turn back to the monster on top of me as a tendril emerges from its back and tries to gouge out my eye. I can see it's in a lot of pain. Finally, it collapses on top of me and I try to shove it off. I can barely stand up, but I have to. I feel something crawling inside my intestines and it rushes towards my brain. I can feel it digging into my brain. And then, I don't remember much else afterwards. It's like I blacked out or something.

I find myself in the middle of an empty road. Bodies everywhere. Or, should I say, limbs are scattered around the pavement. Chaos everywhere. Maybe that thing took over me and I just ran away. But, screw it, I'm just glad I got out. I don't know where I am or what I am now. Maybe I'm some possessed monster

How much of this did I cause? Well, that I don't want to know. I'm writing this down so someone can read this and maybe, I don't know. Maybe explain this better than me. I'm spending my days now in an abandoned house somewhere by myself. I don't know how many days are passed. I don't care. I just want to be alone

To contemplate what happened in that freaking asylum I wonder how things have changed But one day My isolation is disturbed As a little girl Maybe 17 Comes into my house with a note I'd written down She doesn't show fear when she meets me

She just hands me the note back We have to do something about these monsters she remarks coldly, but I can't do it alone. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from,

please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join you. me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye bye.