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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: The Horror House

A group of teenage boys decide to fool around with the unknown, and the consequences are sour for the trio.

Submitted: November 04, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 03, 2017



 Insane asylums were never really the happiest places. Before the late 20th century, people could be listed as mentally insane and sent to a psychiatric institution for the simplest of things, and those were sent to these “hospitals” were treated horribly. Patients were placed in bathtubs filled to the brim with boiling water, had parts of their brain removed, and numerous other methods were used to essentially torture these people. Near the middle of the 20th century, a lot of these institutions were abandoned and forgotten, and they were eventually replaced by more modern and humane psychiatric hospitals. Some say the tortured and angry souls of the people who lost their lives in these buildings still haunt them. I know it’s true because I have been in the presence of these spirits before. This is not a story about a child-eating clown in the sewer or a tale of deception and wine. This is an account of my own experience.

 Urban exploration had interested me ever since I first found out about the hobby after watching an entire playlist of videos about urban exploration on YouTube. These people would explore abandoned factories, schools, hospitals, and pretty much any building that was abandoned. Exploration of abandoned medical facilities was the thing that really peaked my interest. I began to share my interest with two of my friends, Sean and Jesus. They too began to become interested in urban exploration. We decided to begin to search for abandoned buildings in our state, more specifically abandoned hospitals.
 There was one that really peaked our interest. “North Carolina Mental Asylum, you guys want to go there?” I asked. “That sounds like a great place to explore,” Jesus agreed. “I don’t know. The place looks kind of creepy,” Sean said to us. “Come on Sean, it will be fun. Besides, it’s October, and it will be somewhere spooky to go on Halloween,” I replied. “I guess,” Sean said with reluctance. I decided to research this place and found out that it closed down in the 1950s. Horrible things happened at the hospital during the early 20th century. If you don’t know what a lobotomy is, let me tell you about it. It’s pretty much where the surgeon cuts out a portion of a patient’s brain with an icepick or a similar tool to try and cure the patient of their disorder. It would leave some severely mentally handicapped, and their mental state would only become worse. Despicable things like that happened at this place, and for some reason, it made my interest to explore the asylum grow exponentially.

 We decided to go at night, so the security patrolling the place wouldn’t be able to detect us as easily. We parked our car about a couple hundred feet away from the gates, and we just walked the rest of the way. As we were walking, I noticed that Jesus was reaching into his bag for something. “Hey fellas,  look what I brought,” he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He had pulled out an Ouija board from his bag. I could feel myself becoming starry-eyed. “Yes,” I said with enthusiasm. It was about as dark as vantablack that night. Luna and her shimmering companions in the ether weren’t visible as the area was a very industrial area and pollution filled the night sky. “This place is creeping me out,” Sean said with a shaky tone. “I honestly like the aura it gives off. I like creepy things. Besides, it’s Halloween. It’s supposed to be creepy today,” I replied. The plaque on the old golden gates said in all capital letters:“NORTH CAROLINA MENTAL ASYLUM.” The asylum had kudzu vines covering its exterior, and the building was surrounded by an eerie, pitch black forest. Leaves scattered the ground, and there were weeds growing on the grounds of the building. The entire place looked grim and uninviting, and it made us slightly unsettled, but we proceeded anyway.

 “How do we get in without alerting security?” I asked the two. Jesus pointed at a metal trapdoor on the ground that said: “DO NOT ENTER.” “There,” he replied. We climbed down a ladder and found a long, straight tunnel with caged lights on the ceiling. The lights didn’t seem to be functional. Luckily, we brought flashlights so we could see. We put on our face masks so we wouldn’t inhale asbestos, and we began to walk down the tunnel. As we walked down the long corridor, we saw graffiti on the walls that depicted gang symbols, some illegible words and one thing that said: “Turn back or die.” While we were walking down the long corridor, my conscience was telling me to go back. I should have listened to my gut.

 It took us about 3 minutes to walk down the long hall until we reached a metal door. We pushed the door and the door opened to darkness. We shined our flashlights and found another hallway with open doors lining the sides of the hallway. “It must be patient rooms,” I said. The hallway was littered with broken shards of glass, wooden planks, and nails, so we were careful not to step on any of it. We walked over to one of the doors and opened it. There was a dirty bed in the room and a hanging light on the ceiling. “I think the bed has mold on it,” Sean said with a disgusted tone. “This looks like a great place to use the Ouija board,” Jesus told us. “Yeah,” I replied in agreement. “Are you sure this is safe? We really shouldn’t go playing with things we don’t understand. Something bad could happen.” Sean said, his expression and voice filled with concern. “Good point, but we could understand it better if we tried it out, and besides, what’s the worst that can happen?” Jesus replied. “Good point. Let’s do it, I guess,” Sean replied. We set the board on the floor, and the three of us formed a triangle around it. Jesus also brought white candles and a match, and he set those in a triangular pattern around the board and lit them. Before we started, we prayed to a higher power for protection.

 We moved the planchette over to “G” and begun. “Hello, is anyone there?” Jesus asked. It moved to over to yes. “Are you good or bad?” Jesus questioned the spirit. The planchette moved to the sun, which means good, but you have to remember that spirits can lie just like living humans can. We looked at each other and continued. “What is your name?” Jesus solicited the presence. The planchette moved and spelled out the name Norman. “How do you feel?” Jesus asked. The response was delayed for a few seconds, and then the planchette moved to spell out the word trapped. I could see the eyebrows on Jesus’s face rise. “Where?” he continued. The planchette slowly moved and spelled out the word here. It was trapped in the asylum. We didn’t ask anything, but it started to move by itself. It spelled out the word near. After it spelled that word, one candle’s flame went out. That startled us but we continued, and that was a huge mistake. “Do you feel anything else?” Jesus asked. The planchette spelled the word anger. The second candle went out. “I have one final question for you. Is there anything you want?” Jesus interrogated the spirit. The planchette moved very slowly to spell out the word revenge. The last taper went out. The air became frigid after the last candle’s light faded, and the air felt like thousands of small daggers stabbing my skin. In a panic, we put the board away, but we forgot to do one thing before we finished. We forgot to move the planchette over to goodbye and wish the spirit a proper farewell.

 We hurried out of the room and went off on our adventure once more. As we walked, I felt like we were being watched by a presence in the shadows. One thing I was worried about when we entered the tunnel was stumbling upon a violent homeless person in the asylum. Homeless people sometimes take refuge in abandoned buildings, and they can be violent at times. We did eventually stumble upon one of them. As we were walking, we saw something odd. It was a closed door, and all of the other doors in the hallway were open. I heard someone or something snoring behind the door. Out of curiosity, we slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door. We were being careful not to disturb whatever was making that noise. We shined our flashlights and saw a homeless man in the arms of Morpheus. There were cans of alcohol surrounding him, and empty syringes scattered the floor. The room smelled of garbage and urine. The floor creaked as we stepped back. The man opened his eyes faster than the speed of light. His eyes were extremely bloodshot, and the man stumbled and wobbled as he stood up. His grey beard looked dirty and ragged. He was wearing nothing except for a tattered pair of cargo shorts. He just stood there for a couple seconds, picked up a used syringe from the floor and then made a bone-chilling battle cry as he began to charge. We ran, and the man gave chase to us.  

 The three of us took a fighting stance and prepared for a fight. He stopped, belched, and began growling at us. He was probably intoxicated at the moment, so it would be easier to defend ourselves. The man attempted to jab at my jugular with the needle, but I grabbed his arm just before the needle touched my throat. The sharp end was too close for comfort. I knocked the syringe out of his hand and pushed him onto the ground. He got up slowly and charged at Sean and Jesus. Sean ducked under him and kicked him in the back of his head. Jesus punched him square in the jaw, and the man fell to the ground. The three of us walked away as fast as we could. I looked back and saw that there was blood on the floor around the man’s head, blood was coming out of his mouth, and there were crimson patches in his beard.

 We walked down a couple more hallways, and then we went up a stairway to the second floor. We eventually came to the hospital’s main office. We walked into the decrepit office and began looking around. I found a broken hand mirror on the front desk and picked it up. I looked into it and saw different parts of my reflection in different parts of the mirror. “So intriguing,” I thought to myself. Sean walked over to me and looked into the mirror as well. “What are you doing, Rob?” Sean asked. “Being fascinated by this broken mirror. I wonder if this is how people that suffer from a personality disorder see themselves. Their mind is split, like how this mirror is. It was once one, but after being damaged, it is in multiple pieces and in each piece, you can see a different reflection,” I said. “That’s an interesting thing to think about,” Sean replied. I put the mirror back down and continued looking around.

 “Hey guys, come check this out,” Jesus said. Sean and I walked over to find folder upon folder of patient records. I selected a folder from the cabinet, and it was dustier than the books you never touch on your bookshelf. I opened the folder and found a patient record. I saw that the patient’s name was Mary and she was found criminally insane and sent to the asylum by the court after being charged with murdering her husband. I put that folder back into the cabinet and began to look through other ones. There were records of patients being admitted to the asylum for mania, depression, and other mental illnesses. There were even a few patients who were admitted for being gay, and one was admitted for something as simple as reading a certain novel. As the three of us were looking through the file cabinets, something truly bizarre happened. The folder that Jesus was holding floated out of his hand and started slowly floating around the room. We watched in awe as it floated back into the file cabinet and the cabinet close by itself. “What just happened?” I asked. “I was questioning the exact same thing,” Jesus replied. We simply walked out of the room, still awestricken by the event.As we walked out of the main office, I felt like something was watching us as we continued to explore the building.

 The upstairs was nothing but patient rooms from the main office. We went back downstairs to explore more down there. As we were walking down one of the bottom floor’s many hallways, we found a staircase going down to what I assumed to be the basement. As we stared into the abyss, I felt like some unknown force was warning us not to descend down the stairway. I regarded it as silly fear. “Come on guys, let’s go see what’s down here,” I said. As we descended down the stairwell, I could feel dread flowing through my veins. I swear, as we went down the stairs, step by step, time began to slow down. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, there was a fairly large room, and the room oddly smelled of petunia flowers. The room had phrases like “Help us” and “I’m not crazy” scrawled into the wall.

 “W-w-what is that?” Sean said as his body shook. We looked to where he was pointing and saw a figure. It looked humanoid in shape, and it gave off a glow that was yellow in color. It was just facing the corner, twitching. I stood there, transfixed at this form. I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw it stand up, turn around, and walk a little bit closer to us. I was able to see it better when it had done that. It looked masculine in appearance, and it was wearing a grey straitjacket, and I assumed that it was the spirit of one of the patients that died in the asylum. It just stood there for a few seconds, and those few seconds were the longest few seconds of my life. Jesus pulled out a cross and began to scream verses from The Bible at the being. It must have been startled by Jesus’s screaming because it hissed at him. Jesus began to levitate and was thrown against the wall over and over. Jesus was struggling, but could not escape it. Sean mustered up all of the courage he could and ran at the presence, his hands clenched into fists. It had little effect as he was held in the air by the specter’s psychokinetic power.

 I could sense the anger and resentment released from the phantom. Anger and resentment from years of torture and abuse from people that called themselves doctors and nurses. I searched through my bag for anything I could use to stop it. I found a box of salt at the bottom of the bag. I ripped the lid off of the container of salt and threw it at the apparition. It produced a blood-curdling death rattle as it vanished into thin air. Salt harms ghosts in a similar way to how it harms snails. Salt is lethal to them.

 After its disappearance, Sean fell to the ground and Jesus did the same. I helped Sean get up off the floor and we walked over to Jesus. Jesus had bruises all over his body, and he was bleeding in some places. He tried getting up but fell down. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” Jesus said while groaning in pain. “Come on, let us help you up,” I said, still feeling shook up after that incident. Sean and I helped Jesus up, and the three of us began to search for an exit. We finally found a way out after searching for what had felt like hours filled with terror and stress. The sunrise looked especially beautiful that morning. I suppose it was a reward for our survival.

 We got into the car and went to the nearest hospital. One of the doctors told us that Jesus had fractured multiple bones in his body, but it wouldn’t be fatal. All he needed was to stay in the hospital for a while and get some rest, but he would be in crutches for a while after he got out of the hospital. We went to go see him today. We walked into the white room, and our noses were invaded by the strong scent of disinfectant. The sound that the machines produced in the room stayed at a constant rhythm the entire time Sean and I were in there. “Hey Jesus. How are you feeling man?” I asked him. “I’m getting better, I guess. The doctor told me I only have to stay in this uncomfortable hospital bed for another week or so, and then I’m out of here,” Jesus replied. “There is one thing that I still question about what happened the other night,” Jesus continued on. “What is it?” Sean questioned Jesus. “Did that thing vanish for good? I mean, Rob, you threw salt at the ghost and it disappeared, but did it truly vanish? I mean ghosts are pretty much the souls of dead people, and I’m pretty sure that the soul is immortal and can’t die. That thing we fought is probably still alive in the asylum.” Jesus told us. “It might have just vanished to escape,” Sean added to Jesus’s statement. My eyes widened as I heard this. “Oh my God. That makes so much sense. The ghost was already angry, and I think we made it even more furious,” I replied. The nurse brought Jesus his lunch which consisted of a greasy, but not floppy slice of pepperoni pizza with a strong odor of cheese, a tall glass of chocolate milk with a red and white striped straw in it, and a small bag of Spicy Nacho flavored Doritos on an ivory-colored plate. The conversation ended after the nurse set Jesus’s lunch on the table and said that visiting hours were over. Sean and I said our goodbyes and left the room.

 The events that took place when we explored the asylum left me with mental scars. I think it’s filled with even more rage now, and it probably wants revenge on us too for disturbing it. It would be best if I never went back to that ghastly place for my own safety. Don’t mess with things you don’t understand. The consequences could be dire.  Take my word for it.





© Copyright 2020 Ezekiel Levinsky. All rights reserved.

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