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1908
It was 1908 and Dr. Stephen Wittacre ran an asylum in an abandoned forest in Maine. This asylum was rumored to be haunted by the local townspeople. Stories of torture and rebellion reign supreme all over the town. The main story that people tell is about a girl named Piny. She was an assistant to the doctor as she was slightly more lucid than the regular patients. Until one day when the doctors use of torture methods changed her life. She was usually slow and liked to talk herself through everything to make sure she remembers. She refused to give a medicine to a patient that she knew was not right for him. She knew he was being given too much and ot was making him sick everday worse and worse. As she said no and refused to do as the doctor asked. She was alway quiet and submissive. For her punishment he put her in a chair that was suspended from the ceiling and spun in a clockwise direction. As she slowly spun she noticed that the rope holding her chair started fraying. The line keeping her above a 30 foot drop was slowly withering away. As she felt the seconds pass and rotations increase she started to feel the weight of her tiny body pulling on an ever fraying line. Without a scream the line broke and she plummeted in her chair to the bottom of this well smacking her head on the concrete bottom. She laid in bed for a week in a comatose state. They left her alone thinking that she would be dead soon. About a week later she woke up with such a horrible headache that she couldn’t think at all. She managed to crawl out of bed and grab some bread and a cup of water that was left by the bread by someone that favored her. This was not known to the doctor because he was so distracted by his new and inventive ways of torturing his patients. He believed in phrenology making it possible to make his own diagnosis and make a treatment for what he thinks is wrong. He loved shock therapy, waterboarding, and and what he called scraping. Which was laying a person on the ground while he took sheets of nails, blades, and metal corners and drug it across the persons body until they increase submissive behavior. It was meant for those that rebelled to his methods. This is one of many things he invented to torture his patients because he was delusional and thought he could cure them from everything. A few days later Piny disappears from her room unnoticed and goes back to the doctor for her job back. In shock he gives her the medicine to give to the man who was being made sick and she bows and says, “yes, doctor I will give them to him”. What the doctor didn’t see was the small tic tack looking pills that she quickly swapped th out with before the doctor watched her drug this poor patient. After the doctor agreed and left her by this man’s side Piny whispered in his ear, “I gave you an aspirin instead.I’m going to need your help here soon! Pretend to be miserable and fight with me everyday about these meds. When the time comes we’re gonna stop the doctor from doing this all together. Days went by and then weeks as she saw the light in his eyes get clearer as was slowly building her army with patients from the clinic that she substituted meds out for. By the time 6 months had rolled around she had all of the patients clean from what meds they were on and ready to end the evil doctor! It was a party night! The doctor let his staff imbibe in alcohol and other substances once in a blue moon. So this was the perfect time to take them all down. First that needed to go was a man named Talbot. He was the doctors muscle and restraint when things got violent which was often. Talbot was about 6’ 4’’ and a built man That bragged about steroid use and other things that a man shouldn’t brag about. However Piny had a plan. There was this white powder that she had seen used on other patients thT she wanted to try for herlself. It was red in nature and had the consistency of flower. Once blown onto the face of an individual it caused seizing, delusions, and mental breakdown. Not telling the others about this idea she wanted to take down Talbot before the rest of the patients started fighting to give them a good chance at escaping. She snuck up behing him and asked to see if he needed anything from her before she retired and as he bent down to talk to her she blew a puff of red smoke in his face making him hit the ground in convulsions. Step one was done, now on to the mass exodus. There was a bell that was rang everyday at lunch to signal food. She rang this at 10 that evening and her army of patients would know this was the bell to freedom. At this momen they all stopped acting strange and drugged looking and stood up and started attacking guards. The good doctor was not thrilled about the idea of security because any good souls would hinder his progress. No good conscience could work in his facility. The security he does have is the worst of the worst. As the patients are taking care of the guards Piny and a few friends are grabbing the good doctor and deciding what they should do to him! After the riots and burning subsided the lot of patients ran away and found shelter elsewhere. She however stayed to play with the good doctor. What no one knew was that bash to her head from the fall all those months ago is that she started thinking clearer and getting smarter. She took over the asylum and started using it for better purposes until her death in 1945. It was then a bonded and left for what it was as no one wanted to investigate what really happened in that asylum! It sat for decades with no one to visit it. Until now…..
Linda StanfillPublished 2 years ago in HorrorMomentary Helplessness
Weariness ensued a deep sleep over me as I cradled my anxious brain to slumber. My dormitory sang a lullaby of hushed white walls and painted a vision of vast darkness. The complete and utter silence of the room formed a brimming catalog of wailing souls. Screams of those who suffered from morbid delusion as they embarked on their journeys to a utopia of longed fantasies. As my train neared its destination, I turned my head towards the open gates of an expansive walk-in.
Izac ZunigaPublished 2 years ago in HorrorCarolina
Dust motes floated as if they were fireflies in the shafts of sunlight streaking across the barn. The young woman’s one good eye, unblinking, stared in wonderment at the exclusive showing. An unwelcome cough created an intense discomfort in her gut that made the teenager heave. The girl sought to turn her body, but her face appeared to be glued to the wooden floorboards. The young lady heaved; head rising from the ground with a noise similar to that of Velcro pulling apart. It took all she had to hold the contents in her stomach right where they belonged. She moaned against the discomfort, but the cry unknown to her ears sounded very much like a lifeless zombie wailing. Slowly the girl sat up and saw that she wore no clothing. In the limited light she could see that her legs, hands, and arms were covered in cuts and scrapes - they showed to be congealed in a blend of blood and dirt.
Kevin KlabonPublished 2 years ago in HorrorShe Comes At Night
Nate preferred to sleep in the barn. He slept to the sounds of the crickets serenading their moon, of the hounds triumphant snoring and to the steady cadence of Rain's beating heart. Rain was his dearest companion. She was the last cow on his father's ranch. He cared for the animals after his mother's passing. Rain was the only one who cared back.
Omen
The first time Terrance sees the owl, it is a Sunday, and it is a Sunday like any other. The nighttime streets are slick-black with rain, and the yellowredwhite reflections of head and tail lights make watercolor masterpieces across the ground. The squeak of her sneakers, alongside the gentle splash as she wades through inch-deep puddles melts into the sounds of the city around her, though it is hardly proper city anymore — more suburbia than the bustle of a downtown square. Normally she feels safe here, within blocks of her home and cocooned in the relative safety of sturdy buildings built long before she’d been born, and that would hopefully stand long after she was gone.
Lauren WagnerPublished 2 years ago in HorrorLiquor Run
Rain came down on Karmen’s windshield as her old Chevy truck rattled along the two-lane blacktop. No other cars passed as she squinted through the darkness. She kept to a slow speed to ensure that she didn’t collide with any of the critters that liked to skitter across the road at night. Her head began to pound and she rubbed her temple, grimacing. On her left she passed the old green dented mailbox that belonged to no one in particular. It had been there as long as Karmen could remember. The throbbing in her head announced its presence more loudly, and she gritted her teeth, finding it difficult to stay in her lane. The pounding reached a crescendo as she pulled up to the ancient tree with the gnarl twisted in the shape of an owl. She let out a groan, but the pain suddenly dissipated as she drove past the tree. She shook her head and breathed out slowly, feeling a lightness that allowed her to release her tensed up shoulders. Karmen put on her left blinker even though no one was around, and eased into one of three parking spaces at Mr. Jenkins' Liquor and Bait Shop. The time on the dash read 6:00, right on time, just like every Saturday.
Grace SimmsPublished 2 years ago in HorrorThe Cry
It was in the shudder of their wings. The hidden omens of their presence could be found in the black gaps of the night; small openings of birch between the snow-lined white pine branches where the birds stooped in search of their next meal, curious eyes as deep and wide as the barrels of his shotgun. This small opening was all he needed. As natural as the violent panicked flutter of the barn owl’s wings before it took flight, he held his arms up steady, movement minimal, almost mechanical. His fire was efficient, and it took no less than a single bullet to rid the now-flightless creature of life.
The Haunting of Westmoor Manor
A cold spring rain fell upon her skin as if it were the sky weeping; Mother Nature’s haunting cry echoing throughout her veins, as each droplet left its harrowing translucent stains on her face.
Rita Montgomery (Pearl M.)Published 2 years ago in HorrorCrossing the Owl's Bridge
The job was wearing on him lately but it wasn't until he was wondering how much longer he could last that the owl showed up. It had made it's home somewhere nearby and would make itself known with hoots spaced out between the night's transport calls. Owls were a bad omen for some. Jack never minded them but this particular one seemed odd somehow. A bit eerie but Jack didn't think it would be if he was going on a full night's rest. Maybe an hour or two of sunlight. It had been awhile. Sleep was limited to the point where sometimes he felt like he should check to make sure he hadn't passed out on his couch.
Levi ChapmanPublished 2 years ago in HorrorThe 4 hour plan
Was this all life had to offer? Was I even really guilty? I had nothing to be afraid of, I was the star of this town. Not a single soul would ever find out, to them I was perfect, the perfect son of the perfect father. I wrapped my mind of who I had become, proud. As I walked up the stage the candles burned bright, they left the lingering smell of paraffin wax stuck in the air with nowhere to go. The floorboards creaked at every step I took towards the centre. I adjusted the mic, a loud transmission exploded through the speakers and I caught the attention of the teary eyes weighing me down at their sight. “Hello everyone, my name is Sid Srinivas, son of Vikram Srinivas”, I readjusted my tone “thank you for coming, my father would have appreciated knowing how much he meant to all of you”. The crocodile tears were unreal, no one really cared if he lived or died, I did them a favour. My father was a monster, he deserved this. I could hear myself saying this made up story how he was a true hero, every bone in my body screamed “lie, lie, lie”, what I wished I had said was “ he was a pathetic mad man who made everyone around him feel small. I smiled and told a room full of strangers he was the best dad anyone could ask for, he gave us everything. This was not the time or the place to expose my true feelings. I had already done what I needed to. The floorboards creaked heavier and closer to me, I felt the cold hands of Father Samuel against my very own fingers pressing them to tell me I had done great, he makes money off this service he doesn’t care. I walked off the stage and waited for the rest of this ceremony to be over. The only explanation was the money they were after, could anyone actually like this man? I waited for everyone to leave the building it was tiresome waiting on people to tell me their condolences, just to say “yes I’m fine, thank you” as if any of that could bring someone back to life. It was finally empty and I couldn’t wait to go home, Gunner was a little troubled these days so he needed me.
Ruthmalini SomasundaramPublished 2 years ago in HorrorTerrors in the Night
Have you ever seen something you weren’t supposed to see? Something disturbing. Unsettling. Unnatural. The type of unnatural that seared itself into your mind, haunting you for weeks, months, years afterwards? Disturbing enough that for the briefest of instances, a part of you wished that you’d clawed your eyes out before seeing something so sure to haunt you for the rest of your days? I bet you haven’t. But I have.
JJ CornishPublished 2 years ago in HorrorThe Prince's body
“Quis fecerit?” - A deep, ominous voice whispers. The floor feels wet with a thick substance. It smells and tastes like blood. Barely opening my eyes I see a figure, no, two. One feels like a man but the other is different. Tall, no light touching it. Music starts playing, and in a matter of a blink, I’m in the car, with the rest.
Andres MonteroPublished 2 years ago in Horror