... so I was dead. I don't say that die was the best decision I ever made but it was final at least.
I hadn't much to leave behind, honestly. Except the few earthly possession, not worthy of mentioning, unfinished chess match and never changing routine of a mental asylum. From all the above, I feel sorry just for the unfinished match.
Being labelled weird or insane (of which, I always found the term "insane" more accurate), was nothing much either.
I was insane but I was harmless. In my opinion, there is not worse insult than call a man "harmless". Reduced to something more than a beast but less than human
I became part of the inventory, part of the infamous legend.

I was dead now. What worse could happen .
I was bit uncomfortable with the idea of heaven vs. hell and dare say, I have spent most of my life in the purgatory, thus purgatory made not much sense to me.
I was expecting the light at the end of the tunnel, friendly faces of departed family members and ancestors or ferry over the river. You know just like in the books and movies about afterlife. Well, nothing is ever like in the books and movies.
I never thought that, I will be trapped within those walls for an eternity.
Lo ' and behold. Here I am still insane but definitely not harmless. Not anymore.

I feast on their fear...
The kids with Ouja board or the paranormal investigators with their equipment, they are all the same, high on drugs or adrenaline, encouraged by couple of beers, ready to impress their crush, hungry for sensation. You name it.
I am no longer interested in human affairs. To be honest, I never was. As I have said, they are mostly the same.
Its the way they experience fear what makes real difference. It is the horror that defines them. I feast on their fear.

The evil is imprinted in the walls...

This so called asylum was a place of desperation and dead long before it was shut, long before it made headlines.
These buildings have a long history, once prominent hospital changed to a sanatorium and eventually, to a mental asylum.
Situated on a hill in the middle of the woods, it used to be really nice place, nurturing, soul - soothing, engulfed by peace.
Now it's a vile place, decaying remains ready to consume another lost soul.
The evil is imprinted in the walls.

All evil things come to these who wait...

It's a bitter irony, we haven't had much visitors back there, if I was still alive. Most of us were just locked up, put out of sight, left to rot.None of us here was good enough for the painfully "normal" society.
We all were monsters, one way or another, the patients, the nurses, the doctors, in the first place. The staffs could not be more ignorant... or more cruel. Sometimes the treatment I was undergoing and the circumstances we the had to endure as the patients, left me with no choice but wondering who is the real sicko.
Those kids, they have no idea. I give them what they are asking for- the terror.
It took me a while until I learned how to penetrate the void. I have to gather some strength. First I remember the wailing, it makes me angry enough, strong enough to whisper or knock, strong enough to make the first contact.
I give them them The benefit of doubts. They start to watching over the shoulder, suspecting their friends, brushing it off as a nerves or stupid joke.
The past has forgotten to die between these walls. Eventually my own terrors blends with the despair of the others, bottomless source of a power multiplies by human fear.
I open the door, I let the hostile atmosphere in. The temperature drops.
Then I play with their minds to the point that they no longer suspect their mates but they are questioning their own sanity.
The malevolent whisper comes first, then the touch. I let them exhale and regroup a little, before I let them hear the screams. It's not my own voice but all the voices of the inmates, concentrated in one bone chilling cry. You have heard it yourself, don't you?
Now they know I am here, my steps echoes as I approach them, one at time. I materialise, usually as a shadowy figure that matches the human idea of a ghost. Then I release them. They got what they came for.
You see, all evil things come to these who wait.
You are different. I still can't figure out what is it You really want.You know almost as much terrors as me, that's certain. I can read Your mind. You seek refuge in the darkness and the anger became the source of Your power. You too can recognise others by their fear.
I started wondering, could we be friends? You and I...?

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