Journal Entry - October 13th, 2016
The air is heavy with a chilling silence, broken only by the sound of my own footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The building stands like a forgotten monument to madness, its windows shattered and its walls covered in ivy and decay. As I step inside, a shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t help but feel that I’ve crossed a threshold into another world.
The asylum is a maze of forgotten memories, each room holding its own twisted tale. The walls are adorned with peeling wallpaper, revealing glimpses of the horrors that once took place within these walls. The smell of mildew and decay fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of something far more sinister.
I make my way deeper into the asylum, my heart pounding in my chest. The darkness seems to grow thicker with each step, the flickering light of my flashlight barely illuminating the path ahead. Shadows dance on the walls, taking on eerie shapes that seem to watch my every move.
Suddenly, a door creaks open, and I freeze in my tracks. My breath catches in my throat as I peer into the room. Broken furniture and shattered glass cover the floor, but it’s the writing on the walls that sends a chill down my spine. In blood-red letters, the words “They’re watching” are scrawled over and over again, like the desperate pleas of a tormented soul.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being followed. Whispers echo through the halls, faint cries that seem to come from the very walls themselves. The asylum is alive with a presence, a malevolent force that wants me to leave but won’t let me escape.
As I continue my exploration, the supernatural phenomena become more pronounced. Objects move on their own, doors slam shut with no visible cause, and cold spots send a shiver down my spine. I can hear the distant sound of laughter, an eerie symphony that seems to grow louder with each passing moment.
My heart races as I enter a room that feels different from the others. The air is thick with an oppressive energy, and I can feel the weight of the past pressing down on me. The room is filled with old medical equipment, rusted and covered in dust. But it’s the photographs lining the walls that capture my attention.
The photographs depict patients in various states of torment and despair. Their faces contorted with fear and agony, their eyes hollow and lifeless. I feel an overwhelming sense of dread, as if their tortured souls still linger within these walls, trapped in an eternal nightmare.
Suddenly, the door slams shut behind me, and I’m engulfed in darkness. Panic rises within me as I fumble for my flashlight, but when I switch it on, the beam reveals a sight that sends me reeling. The walls are covered in the same blood-red writing as before, but this time, it’s closer. The words surround me, closing in like a noose.