Five Days Act V (finale) (Frightful Fridays)

ACT V

September 13th 2013, 7:45 am, my apartment

They let me out of the hospital this morning at seven. I was prepared to leave until I was stopped by the police who had a few questions for me.

Apparently even when you are scheduled to die today you still don’t get a day off.
The police had pulled me into a small room that was one of the head doctor’s office and I was seated in a small semi-pink/tan room that had belonged to one of the pediatricians here.

The place reeked of medicine, printed paper, coffee, and rubber gloves.

I sat in a metal chair across form two officers, one male and one female, probably in their thirties and in full uniform. What felt a bit weird was knowing the fact of what really happened back at John’s and having to leave parts of the story out, knowing that they will not believe me if I told them about Joseph or the Five day warning.

While I am sitting down the cops stand up and stare at me while they ask questions and almost never let me out of their vision.
Here’s how the interview went.

The tall bearded officer addressed me first:

“I’m sorry we had to pull you out like that but we have to ask you a few questions.” He stated

I sighed and responded, “Okay, what do you need to know?” I say. “Well-“started the female officer. “What were you doing there just out of curiosity?” She asks. “I came by to ask for some overtime, possibly a raise.” I responded. This did after all start with me asking exactly that.
By the way, fuck overtime.

The woman officer looked over to the male officer and the male officer continued. “So how did you come into contact with the killer? Or even see what happened?” Okay this part I had to lie about.

“Yes there was an escaped patient from the asylum that we worked at…” I start, “I uh, I witnessed him cut John in half from the waist with an antique sword from Stone-Brooke Asylum and-“ I stop and gulp as I remember the scene and just mutter to myself.

There was just so much blood; I could remember the slicing and tearing of flesh as the sword gracefully and quickly slit John’s body in half.
The blood and the tendons and bones just crushing under the pressure of the antique blade that should not have ever been allowed in the asylum. I could even envision the Satan-possessed Joseph/ Gregory attack John’s heart and soon enough his soul.

I snap out of my vision by being shaken up by the female officer. “Hey sir, snap out of it!” She shook both my shoulders and I jolt out of my vision. “W-what?” I stutter.

“What does that mean?” The man asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask in confusion. “What does ‘erit in laqu-‘ something? I don’t know what you said?” Fuck I was saying it aloud now, that goddamn phrase: erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.
I immediately got up and said I wasn’t feeling well and they reluctantly understood, after me rambling about how my head hurt they decided to let me go home.

Before I left they said they wanted to schedule a meeting sometime in the future. I personally don’t think there will be a future. Not saying that I don’t want to be interviewed, I just know that tonight… may be my last night on Earth.

September 13th 2013, 10:00 am, my apartment.

Fuck… I literally have no idea as to how I am gonna face him. Jesus I don’t even know what to do.

I guess I will just think real quick.

Ok, what DO I know about Joseph/Gregory/Satan?

Okay, He is the devil. He is also Joseph Stone-Brook who sold his soul to get rid of the suicidal souls of the asylum to the devil. The souls probably went to hell and the devil took a hold of Joseph’s body as an opportunity to walk the earth.
Then there was John who was elected by a great cult (who were stupid as hell) to keep watch over the devil and place him in the asylum. With holy water covering the walls he managed to keep the devil at bay.

But then John was punished for not obeying Satan and in response the devil branded John with that gigantic burned mark which healed rather quickly. Wait, now that I mention it, it was completely gone when we were at his home.

Wait a minute I remember the phrase still: erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.
The devil will take the souls of those who keep trapped the soulless.
Was Joseph the soulless? But wait then John had said … Holy fucking shit! Joseph is the soulless and he was without a soul after five days. That is what John said.
Okay so the heart is the soul; that is why Joseph- or the Devil- always goes for the heart and that is what that bright light that came from John’s heart was, (and my dream heart apparently).

Once Joseph ate the heart he consumed the soul of a human being… specifically the soul of those that help to keep the devil imprisoned. Which also means something else:

In order to keep the devil from killing me I have to kill him.
Because if the devil is imprisoned and he is after those who keep him concealed inside Joseph, then Josephs body needs to die in order to release him. I know it sounds stupid but it seems like the only way to survive.
Plus if the soul really does reside in the heart then Satan must have made his home inside Joseph’s heart.

That settles it… I will have to pierce Joseph’s heart in order to escape certain death.

I hope this helps.
The last thing I want right now is to die trying.

September 13th 2013, 8:00 pm, Stone-Brooke Asylum –possible final entry-

Ok, I think I may win this one.

I kind of over-prepared myself here.

So immediately after figuring out what to do, I quickly rush to find anything I could use as a weapon against the devil himself.

I even went through my father’s box of things he left in his will. It was located in my hall closet underneath all my high school stuff. After I snuffed it out I set it on the carpet floor of my apartment and rummaged through it while on my knees.

I had found a silver cross that was about the same size as my hand. My father was a pastor and well- I don’t want to write about it but there were some dark day’s that kinda led me to my disbelief in God for a while and I don’t know what to make of this cross other than it being a reminder of my pain.

But I am to shove those memories away and now find new meaning in this silver cross; I was now forced to find my only true salvation from the beast; who oddly enough, hasn’t so much as tried to write in my journal today let alone whisper in my ear. So I grabbed the cross along with my late father’s paperback brown leather bible.
As I walk away from the box of other bad memories of my late father I accidentally hit the box with my foot; then I hear a rattling in the box, almost like a glass bottle. Dad never had any glass objects given to me but I guess I must have missed something

I got back down on my knees and rummaged through it again. Then to my astonishment was a small bottle (not a vial but an actual hand-sized bottle) of holy water. To me it looked like a vial of plain water till I saw an old piece of paper attached
to it by an old piece of tape. It read:

Pastor Donally,
We thank you for your services and if you would so kindly accept this gift from the church as a token of our appreciation we would be most thankful. Here is a bottle of sacred holy water that has been blessed by our priests and was used during ceremonies of blessings performed by the church.
May you find God’s light in times of darkness and never be lost in the shadows.
Sincerely,
The staff of Saint Mary’s Cathedral and Joseph Stone-Brook

My heart sank when I read this.

Saint Mary’s hospital… Saint Mary’s Cathedral… Joseph Stone-Brook even had a charity with the cathedral to build Stone-Brooke Asylum. Shit I should have seen this; we were sponsored by Saint Mary’s… what the hell?
There was obviously more to the story so I checked the internet for more on Stone-Brooke asylum and Joseph Stone-Brooke.

It turns out that before the satanic possession of Joseph he had started a charity in order to build the asylum. The charity was for the mentally ill people of America. Now I take it that my Dad must have been given the bottle during his younger pastor days when he was 20 years old.

After all, my father outlived my mother and he lived to be 98 and died when I was 30 in 2002.

I was born in 1972 and I know that sounds weird but mom and dad were strictly religious and it took them a while to have a kid.
Anyways I guess before Joseph sold his soul he must have been a very well-known member of the church.

But what struck me as strange is that Joseph’s name was specifically on this bottle, had my dad been close to Joseph? I don’t know but I took the holy water anyways and I had found my switch blade that I had since I was 19 and I had dipped the thing in holy water. Hopefully this would have given me an edge when piercing Satan’s heart.

Ok, now I am ready.

I just hope that my faith will take me somewhere.
Because ever since my father died I had felt that God had abandoned me. I guess at some point we all have felt some sort of abandonment from him.
I guess that’s just something that happens in life you know?

Like imagine if you were to lose someone close to you; imagine yourself thrashing and yelling, even swearing at God because you were under the impression that he had took that person away from you.

In all the same time I guess that was what made me a non-believer in the first place. I had thought that God wanted to punish me with the loss of my father. Though he beat me and was cruel he was still my father and I loved him. Once he was gone I had despised religion.
But now that after all that has happened I realize that it was not God who had taken him away.

It was the exact opposite; for the devil took him.
Even somewhere in the bible it states that Satan hates those who are God’s allies and he would often times try to take them and corrupt them. My father must have been on that list and now he was gone.
Tonight I am doing this, not for my life but for my father and for everyone that the devil has claimed as his victim.

Tonight hell will be unleashed unto the world and I am to stop it from roaming the earth any longer.

Tonight I will most likely die.

But If I am to die, let this be a written confession to both God and anyone who gets a hold of this journal:

I believe in God now, I wish I always had but the sad truth is I hadn’t. But after the events that I have been through within the last five days, I can now say I believe.

After spending my whole life searching for meaning and purpose and just overall happiness, I finally realize that I was blind to not see it in God.
I know very well, that after tonight’s events I will either end up in heaven or hell. But either or I will be happy with what I will do tonight. I am going to stop the devil himself from roaming the earth any longer.
It was a mistake made by my boss and others to keep Joseph Stone-Brook in a cell at that Godforsaken asylum. But we all make mistakes and sometimes it is up to others to correct these mistakes.

Let everyone know that my belief will either aid me in my battle or within the afterlife. And I am happy to have gone into battle with my new found belief. And I will not be afraid to face the most imminent death knowing that I will now have God.

Hopefully he didn’t really abandon me… maybe he was just waiting for the right moment to come into my life.

Oh God if you hear me now, I am sorry for what I have said or done. But I will end this evil tonight or die trying.

I know I said before that I don’t want to die trying but now I see that it may be the only way.

After this journal entry I will not write anymore. I will leave you to assume that I have killed Satan’s vessel and he now burns in hell once more. And if not then that is all for you people who are now living to decide what to do about Joseph Stone-Brook.

I will have no will or anything, just this journal of the last five days to become my final testament.

Goodbye.

September 14th 2013, 6:00 am, Joseph’s cell

I don’t know how to explain this, but I did it. I actually got him.
It was incredible it was exhilarating and everything but above all it was haunting and probably the bravest and most stupidest thing I’ll ever do.
I guess I should start explaining.

After I had written my testimony I drove to the asylum. As I was greeted by the orange leaved trees that surrounded the asylum I had felt a chill down my back. I was very uneasy and very nervous. I was all of these things even before the chill but this set of feelings was different. Then as I pulled into the dirt road that led to the usually-guarded gate, I noticed something odd.

There were no guards, the gate was wide open and so were the many gates after that. Hell, one gate was even yanked off its hinges. Shit, I knew this meant trouble.

I continued driving and my headlights shined ahead and onto the asylum. The parking lot had contained at least two or three cars but that was it.
As I parked I glanced at the full moon within the night sky. It was a clear night. Possibly the most beautiful light I will ever lay my eyes upon. So I savored the beauty of it for a bit. After a while I left my car with the knife, my silver cross, and my dad’s bible along with my small bottle of holy water in my pocket. I held the bible and cross together with my left hand (my non-fighting hand) and the knife with my right (Fighting hand)

I slowly walk, feeling fear in every step. I come to the large 8-foot tall front door and find it to be wide open and nothing but darkness had been there. Then that’s when I saw the florescent lights flicker on and reveal the asylum’s lobby.
Within that moment I saw blood and bodies everywhere. Organs and intestines along with ripped-off skin and broken bones had covered the floor. Blood splattered the walls and the ceilings as well. Each body had their chest ripped wide open or punched into… all of their hearts were missing.

To my best guess, I would say Satan had a little feast in here.

The bodies laid there in piles and all of them were still fully clothed. I recognized them as some of my friends and co-workers. Along with few of them I had noticed a couple of patients in a couple of piles. Fuck, I was so sick. I almost threw up but I had contained myself. I then stepped into the asylum and there I was in the dimly lit murder scene.

I continue to walk further into the asylum and toward the elevator within the middle of the room. Along the side of the walls I had noticed that the knight that was wielding a sword in the corner of the lobby was missing a sword… guess that’s where Joseph had obtained a sword, and possibly slaughtered his victims.
I continue toward the elevator. The silver doors were framed by the Victorian stone carved entrance and had a silver panel next to it with two buttons vertical from each other. Left button was up, the right button was down. (Yes this godforsaken place has a basement.)

I was hesitant but I clicked the up button and the elevator dinged open and the silver doors part to let me into the surprisingly clean elevator. Thankfully, there was no blood or guts or half-eaten hearts in this elevator. He must have taken the stairs.

I step in with my arsenal at the ready and under my breath I recite a prayer that my father had taught me when I was little. Oddly enough, I remember it very well.

“The Lord is my shepherd I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me along still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head in oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me throughout the days of my life.
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

After I rehearsed this to myself I opened my eyes to hear the elevator ding and the doors don’t sling open for at least a whole minute.

“It’s gonna take more than a few bible verses to cast me out, Jason” Whispered Joseph in my ear from behind me. I didn’t turn around, but looked straight at the
silver doors in front of me. I knew he was just a voice; another illusion used just to trick me.

“I know. But I will throw your ass back to hell if I have to.”

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He countered.

“You will be imprisoned once again and this time not by the people of this asylum.”

I then heard him cackle softly. “Why the change of heart Jason?” He started.“You used to hate God, what made you come begging on your knees with your dick tucked between your legs?” He made me angry but I resisted turning around.

“Because I would rather be on his side than yours; now if you would excuse me I have to go and kill you.” I said in a matter of factly tone. He laughed then started again.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? I’m right behind you.” He cackles.

“No you are not; you are just a voice you are still in your cell.” Just then the elevator doors opened to reveal dozens of patients from their cell’s on the hallway floors, screaming and thriving in agony as they are covered on blood and open wounds. Some of them even had missing limbs and few of them lay there dead with their blood spread across the walls, floors and ceiling of the halls. Hell, even the florescent lights had some blood on them.
“What the hell?” I exclaim in horror, my eyes wide with terror. Just then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze and then I heard him whisper once more. “No… not yet.” Just then, with my knife at the ready I reach around and slice at Joseph’s chest.

This time he was shirtless and only had pants so I made definite skin contact. The switchblade created a large gash into his terribly pale and black veined skin. He let out a loud screech of pain as the wound had sizzled loudly and released black blood. He was thriving in agony and his dark round eyes turn a blood red as he holds his head in pain.

I take this opportunity to start to stab him, perhaps even weaken him. A few victims of the massacre in the hallway that were still alive were shouting at me to kill him so I continued stabbing him.
Over and over, wound after gruesome wound I kept stabbing him; it didn’t occur to me that my goal was to get his heart but I was too angry to focus on my original plan.

The multiple wounds to his body had sizzled so much I swear they could have started a fire. He continuously shrieked in agony piercing my very eardrums but I didn’t care. I just wanted to see him in pain. Black blood continued to spill on the floor and then suddenly he stopped screeching and falls flat on the floor below me.

Now here I am sitting in the halls with all the patients who surprisingly dropped

dead after I killed Joseph. Lucky I always carry my journal. It was a pocket journal with its own personal pen, so why not?

Now that he’s dead I no longer- wait a minute.

I just noticed that I did stab Joseph’s heart. Like multiple times, looks like I really did go according to my plan.

Huh, you know it’s very strange it all seemed a little too easy; you would think Satan would try a little harder to not be killed or at least have his plan ruine-

Fuck, Joseph’s body is gone.

Holy shit I just heard his cell door from across the hallway slam shut.

I am going to check to see if he really is dying or not. I literally cannot walk out of here assuming I killed him and he is just writhing in pain in that room.

Okay here goes nothing.
–
Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck.

No time to write just fucking hide.
–

Oh god, I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong.

If anyone finds this then my plan has failed. Please don’t go looking for me. Don’t go looking for Joseph. Don’t even attempt to investigate this or anything that has to do with Joseph Stone-Brooke.

In fact, if you find this journal, BURN IT.
Don’t even take a second look at it. Just fucking BURN IT. Give me at least that

before I die tonight.

Oh no, I hear him coming, he’s here… he’s
–
erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.

You should have listened Mr. Donally.
Goodbye.

DETECTIVES LOG – STONE-BROOK MASACRE #1

June 26, 2014 1:58 pm

This is the journal of employee and orderly of Stone-Brook Asylum: Jason Dietrich Donally.

His whereabouts are unknown to this day.

The reports say his body was assumed to be one of the many disfigured and massacred victims of those that were found dead within the halls of the asylum. Mr. Donally however, was not found amongst the carnage, yet his journal remained. I have obtained this journal from the evidence locker today and I am one of the only two people who have read it.

This Journal contains entries which describe that last five days that he had been working with an unknown fugitive at Stone-Brook Asylum. This fugitive however was not found within the database in the FBI, CIA, or Homeland Security. It is rather odd that Gregory “The Cannibal” Richards was everything but real.
At least to the database of course.

But I must confess there are certain reports on the grave robbery of Joseph Stone-Brook, which suggests that a cult and its leader by the name of John Duran who was reported dead since 1956 was more than involved with Joseph Stone-Brook’s grave robbery. John’s son however, was the one who was supposedly killed by this Gregory Richards. His name was John Duran Jr. the suffix wasn’t very public so automatically he was assumed Sr. instead.

The phrase: erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.

Which was in the journal is real too but it seems as though everything Jason had mentioned about it being popular had been wiped clean from the internet. We did a mass search and found nothing. No cults, no blogs, nothing.
But these loose ends and strange twists and turns are not what have bothered me.
I have looked into the theory of a human heart containing the soul and it kind of adds up.

And I looked even deeper and found that Jason’s father was in the church missionary at twenty-years old and was an old friend of Joseph Stone-Brook.

The mass suicide did happen as well. For some odd reason half the asylum simultaneously committed suicide by slitting their wrists or their throats. This had led to the deterioration and failing health of Joseph Stone-Brook. Shortly after the suicide there have been reports of paranormal activity and apparitions of the mass suicide patients which were reported to even the police as well.
The craziest thing of them all is that five days prior to the apparition reports were filed; Joseph Stone-Brook had died.

I know it is all probably one big coincidence, and it should probably be disregarded. But I am a detective and it is my job to not believe in coincidence.

Oh, excuse me my cell phone rang.

Sorry that was my partner, Sterling. He told me to examine the journal carefully for some odd reason; I just don’t know what his big deal is with this damn thing.

I know that it was some very important evidence over a year ago but that doesn’t mean he has to get on my ass about it.

Huh, I just looked at the back cover of the journal: there’s something written in Latin or something.
It says: Quinto Dies

Let me look at it real quick online.

Five Days.

THE END.

---

Hey guys, thanks for reading FIVE DAYS, a little short story series I put together that was inspired by my many hours spent researching insane asylums and cults. No these events are not real and any persons or locations depicted in these stories are fictional and any similarities between this stuff and reality is PURELY a coincidence.

Still its pretty fucking creepy so please like share and follow me and here are the links to the other parts to Five days is your not fully caught on:

All Acts: https://oc950.wordpress.com/?s=Five+days+act+I

Sincerely, Hells Reject. (PS sorry this post was late, I am a busy man.) 😉

Five Days Act IV

Five Days: Act IV

September 12th 2013, 9:00 am, my apartment

Okay I have had some time to think this over;

Obviously Gregory is a demonic piece of shit that’s possessed by the fucking devil. But there is more. I am missing something, but what? Before he told me that my boss was 113 years old? How can that be? He looked no older than 60 or 70.

But then again, he was Gregory’s or the devil’s servant so there has got to something up.
Plus there was no way in hell I was going back, and if he escaped he was still out there waiting for me. But if he was actually “killed” then there was something worse than Gregory. And it wanted me.
Fuck there is no way out of this!
I’ll get back to this entry in a minute. I have an idea. Be right back.
*
Holy fucking shit!

Okay I had an idea, since the asylum had a staff even back in the 1930’s, I looked up online to see who had staffed the asylum back then and who worked as the head security guard.
And guess whose old face was on the picture for head security guard?

It was John!

And I did the math, if it was him he would be exactly 113 years old.
I wasn’t so sure so I am going to give the bastard a call.

I’ll let you know how it went in the next entry.

September 12th 2013, 8:00 pm, Saint Mary’s Hospital. (written from scrap pages from hospital’s paper)

He’s gone. I witnessed it myself… I wish I hadn’t. Oh god, the blood, there was. So. Much. Blood. I can’t even begin to describe a human being slaughtered in front of me.

There was no way in hell that Gregory was dead, he was out there still playing games. However I did find dome useful information from John before he died in front of me.
It was around 2 pm when I had come to visit him at his house which was twenty miles away from my house. He lived in the small subdivision outside Milwaukie where autumn had shown most of its ugly side and where all the more eccentric people live.

Usually rich people live here in this cottage of two-story houses and Iron Gate fences. But John had inherited some money from his grandfather and that’s how he came to live here; plus he was also a chairman of the board at Stone-Brook, so his endless supply of funds brought him over here.

That… or he really is the devil’s servant and he gets a little too much help from down below.
So I pulled into Northridge Cottage and pass the heavily gated area with minimal security. When I pulled to the gate next to a security guard’s stationary cube, a guard had walked from the small square box that contained him and another guard. (This was visible through a front window that appeared to have been waxed and cleaned well).
The guard asked who I was as I sat there in my Honda before the giant Iron Gate. I told him I was there to see John and he went backed to the stationary cubical-like, box-office, and called him up and almost without missing a beat he stepped to my car and said to come right in and that John has been waiting for me. He said it was very urgent.

It looks like he caught on to my theory about Gregory being not-so-very-dead.

After rows and rows of the same plain looking two-story houses I finally came into John’s driveway and parked on the curb of his house. It was like I said before a two-story house with silver-gray walls and had clear glass windows with wooden, black frames and neatly cut grass on the lawn.

I don’t want to get too into detail but let’s just say it was a wannabe rich guy’s house.

I was at the front door and I knocked once… no answer. I knocked again… still no answer. I waited for a few minutes till finally I pushed at the door a little to look into the peep-hole. (As if that will do any good.)

And suddenly the door had unlocked and there he was to greet me. “Hello Jason, come in.” He spoke low and almost depressed. His hair had been an unusual shade of gray this time and his small bit of scruff had made its new home upon John’s once-shaved-face. He opened the door some more to reveal the inside of his house and his apparel.

He was literally in nothing but boxer shorts and a bathrobe and an under-shirt. The inside of his house was wooden floored and behind John was a dark living room accompanied by leather furniture, a fireplace (stone patterned of course), and a moose head above the fireplace. The house would have looked nice if there weren’t so many scattered pieces of paper work and newspaper on the floor.

“John I need to talk to you.” I said with great urgency. He just nodded and said, “I know, I need to talk to you a well.” He responded. “The time has come to stop the evil I created. I am truly sorry I had done this to you.” He explained in a somewhat odd tone. For a minute there he sounded as if he was giving his own eulogy.

I stare at him seriously and then I ask, “Can I come in?”

“Yes please.” He told me.
We sat in a couple of leather armchairs that lounged in the living room across from each other in front of the fireplace.

“John …” I started “I need to know what happened; what really happened with Gregory Richards.” I asked.

“First let me tell you something-“He said, so I let him talk, I honestly was ready for anything he had to say. At first he stared at me, determining how to approach me with the question then he came out with it. “You don’t believe in God do you?” He asked. “I do now.” I tell him.

This was true. Before I was an atheist; never blasphemed but I kept my cool and stayed clear of God-like things. But after this… after all that had happened, I now know there is a God, and there is a Devil.

“Well good, because you are gonna need a little faith on this one.” He started. “In 1930, after the war and after the building of the asylum, I became head guard at the asylum since my G.I. Bill had allowed me to receive any job I wanted, so I decided to give Stone-Brook a shot.” I continue listening, leaning in on his every word so that I could finally find a way to beat this thing.

“Joseph Stone-Brook was rumored to have made a deal with the devil when he had noticed that the asylum was being haunted by the souls of the patients that performed a mass suicide within the asylum. People thought he was insane or deranged but I saw the apparitions myself.” He then slowed his speech and looked off on a dark corner of the room as the fire crackled in the fireplace, illuminating his face and showing the glossiness of his eyes as the fire reflected of off his left eye. He then looks to me with his mouth wide open and starts again.

“Son, you don’t even know terror; until you have seen someone die the same way every single day for the rest of your goddamn life!” He exclaimed and continued and I soon noticed he began to cry a little.
“I joined a local cult who had noticed Joseph’s strange behavior when the soul of the devil dwelled within him. It was Joseph and the devil in one body. The cult was dedicated to bring forth that evil and resurrect it once Joseph had died.” I stop him and ask. “How did he die?”

He then shot me a look and then said, “His soul died first, then his body decayed at rapid speeds because Satan himself was so corrupt and evil, that the human body alone couldn’t hold him” That made sense… kinda. So I let him continue.

“The cult had grave robbed the body within the grounds of Stone-Brook and volunteered me to be the servant… the keeper of the Soulless.” That then struck a chord and I immediately shot at the statement.

“What’s the Soulless?”, “Joseph, the soulless vessel that withheld the devil himself so that he may be resurrected to bring forth an ultimate evil upon the world.” I stared at the statement for a minute, baffled at what the statement had meant, and then I connected the dots.

The devil will take the souls of those that keep trapped the soulless; it means that the devil was after all those guards including me, because we withheld him in a cell for his entire life. I was next but John had a similar fear so I continued asking him questions.

“How did you keep him trapped?” I ask. “The walls in his cell were blessed by a priest over a hundred years ago. See every wall and window of that asylum was meant to keep him inside. However…” He stopped and stared at the corner again as if something was there. I looked behind me and nothing and been in that little corner, I then I turned back to him and he continued.

“-even holy water on stone walls can fade away.” He finished.

That must be how he has been getting into my mind and shit, he got out and now he wants to raise hell.
“Okay, but why five days? He always says to every victim that in five days’ time we were going to die or at least in my case he said I would see what you meant about none of the other guards wanting to watch him?” I asked. But then he just kept staring at the corner of the room.

“Because that’s how long it took for Joseph Stone-Brooke’s soul to die.” He answered slowly and that’s when I realized the true horror of what he meant.

Shit shit shit, I thought. No, no, no, it can’t be; I was going to die but not just die… but my soul will cease to exist.

I stood up and paced the floor as he kept looking into that goddamn corner. I stopped and looked at him and started asking random questions about how he resurrected Joseph/Gregory.

“What was the deal in the ritual?”

“Why did you guys do this?”

“Why did you change his name?”

“Was the criminal file even real?”

I asked constantly till he was annoyed and he got up from his chair to face me. “LOOK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT! DOES THIS EVEN MATTER?! YOU NEED TO STOP HIM OR ELSE WE WILL ALL FUCKING GO TO HELL AND BELIEVE ME, IT AINT PRETTY!” he shouted while his aged face shook with anger. I was sweating down my face and then I searched my mind for something helpful to ask. Then I came out with it.

“What happened to the souls that haunted the asylum?”

He stared at me then quickly revealed the answer. “The devil consumed them!”

Right after he said that I heard a slash of metal piercing flesh. “I’m sorry.” were his last and final words before his upper half of his body had fallen off his legs and blood erupted from his waist, revealing his insides with nearly every last drop of blood spilling onto the wood-paneled floor.

I have just experienced true terror without having to see someone die over and over again. I had just witnessed death… first hand. Oh God, I was frozen in fear and I couldn’t scream or speak or hell even move my eyes around to look for the culprit… until I see him. John’s lower half tumbled to the ground as I see the figure emerge from the shadows.

Behind John’s now collapsed body was a shadow-like figure who then slowly but surely stepped into the light of the fireplace. It was him: Joseph Stone-Brook. He only wore white pants now stained in blood, of which he had gotten his pants from ripping half of his jumpsuit off.

The veins of his body had become very visible and dark, as if oil had run through them instead of blood. His dark veins had shown on his face, as well as his eyes also displayed a diluted darkness into it, soon to have his eyes go completely black. He looked at me with that despicable, evil, disgusting grin.

He wielded a sword he had gotten from one of the suit of armor statues in the halls of the asylum (I recognized them from there.) The sword was now covered in John’s blood and John’s two halves of his body was lying on the floor, still bleeding out.

“Time’s almost up Jason.” He said smiling and then slowly chuckled, with each small laugh he had increased in volume. He continues laughing until I speak up.

“You won’t get away with this Joseph.” He then stopped and with his free hand he grabbed me by the neck and I was then suspended in mid-air seeing that he looked angry and no longer amused with his kill.

“JOSEPH IS DEAD…AND SOON YOU SHALL SHARE HIS FATE.” He then threw me across the room and I land onto the chair by the window which revealed the thunder and lightning from outside.

Joseph then leaned over John’s body and before I knew it, he had plunged his hand into John’s upper half of his body only to pull out John’s still heart.

The blood dripped dramatically off of Joseph’s hand as the heart began to glow white within the internal organ. Just as this happened Joseph hissed at the heart and the light began to glow a bright red. Before long I see why
he is called “The Cannibal”.

He eats the heart and practically moans in excitement over it. Soon after, the heart was gone and his moth was bloody with pieces of the heart still stuck inside his teeth.

I stayed there at the chair by the window as he walked over to me. Once again I was paralyzed in fear and he slowly came to me and once he had been nearly a foot away from me, I was being lifted by an unseen force and was levitated off the ground.

Even then I still couldn’t speak or scream or even move; I just stared at him… grinning at me.
“DAY FIVE IS UPON US JASON…” Just then I was thrown through the glass window and I had landed onto the lawn by his front porch. The glass shattered everywhere and some even stuck to my face and hands. I blacked out and woke up in an ambulance, surrounded by medical equipment and wearing a neck brace.

The police handled everything else and they figured that I didn’t do all that to John so yeah I was ok… for now.
It is 8:00 pm. I am going to die tomorrow.

This can’t be happening.

September 12th 2013, 9:00 pm, Saint Mary’s Hospital.

I lay here in this hospital bed; there is a window to my right that showed the outside; it was going to rain soon and I can practically smell the rain through the hospital vents. God I wish I was out there, enjoying life before I die tomorrow.

The dark night sky revealed darkish gray clouds that enclosed the sky and covered it completely. Before long thunder claps and lightning strikes. And the rain will soon start in three… two… one. Yup there it is. That beautiful rain of which I used to hate.

While I envy the rain I am stuck in a hospital bed because doctor’s wanted to examine me and keep me overnight for “safety” purposes…

They can’t save me, no one can save me. The devil himself was after me and I couldn’t fight him.
I am already dead.

September 12th 2013, 9:30 pm, Saint Mary’s Hospital

Okay I figured out a plan.

I am going to escape the hospital and go to the asylum with my handgun from the apartment and blow the fucker’s head off… that will work right?

No he’s the devil it will take more than a gunshot to the head to kill him.

What if the bullet was dipped in holy water?

No that held him in that cell only for so long; I imagine once it is outside of his head or if it gets lodged in the effect can wear off soon and he will still be alive and try to kill me again… fuck.

Okay what if I go about it like an exorcism? I could then cast him away from my life and shit, right?

No.

First I don’t know the first thing about exorcisms, 2. I have only now started to believe in God, and if I am not mistaken you need a priest, and 3. I cannot just use what I know from watching ‘The Exorcist’ as an example for a live exorcism.

Damnnit… there’s no way out of this…

September 12th 11:00 pm, 2013, Saint Mary’s Hospital

Stupid, fuckin, bitch nurse.
I have been asking the doctors and other nurses if I could go. And even when I explained my situation they just looked at me as if I was nuts.

Fuck them. I’ll do this shit on my own. I just have to find out how to leave without them noticing; shouldn’t they just let me leave?

GODAMNITT!

LET ME THE FUCK OUT! LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!
…
Enjoying your stay at Saint Mary’s, Jason?
I hope you will meet with me soon.
Otherwise I will come see you.

You must be getting lonely in that hospital room all by yourself.
No family, no friends, no girlfriend.
Just sad, little, you; It’s ok.

Soon you will never be alone… or cease to exist.
I hope you have had a long run, or maybe not.
Either way, I am coming for you.

Get ready Jason, time is running out.

PS- Day five.

September 13th 12:00 am, Saint Mary’s hospital

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I just don’t want to die.

I need to- I just ca-

I had a dream, well more of a vision.

I was sitting in Gregory’s cell and I was tied to his bed, naked.

All the rope had covered my parts but my chest and stomach area was bare and had no rope covering it whatsoever, and I have duct tape covering my mouth. I am sitting there in the gray dark and empty room, until…
“Why, hello Jason” Gregory’s demonic voice had spoken through the intercom.

I panic and my eyes grow bigger with sheer terror.
Through my duct taped mouth I scream, “What do you want!?” Tears stream from my face as I try and shake away from the rope in this pathetic attempt to escape.

“Oh Jason, you should know by now what I want…” Just then the door in the cell had slammed against the wall of the cell and within the hallway was darkness.

I froze as I saw the darkness of the hallway compared to the lit space of the cell to which looked as if it would become my tomb. I was once again frozen in the fear of dying.

Out of the darkness of the open steel doorway, came a demonically warped Gregory.
His eye are pitch black, his skin is cracked and almost turned to ash and his veins are black and pop out of his skin, almost intensifying his aura making his presence quite difficult to process.

He walks slowly toward me with black dust clouds dragging behind him and fading away into the dark and deep thump of his footsteps. Upon his face was that grin, only this time his teeth were sharpened to a point and almost looked like fangs.

I struggle more now, hoping that I would find means of escape from my indecency and restrained prison. But I have no such luck and with little to no time at all Gregory is standing over me, looking down at my pathetic expression of fear and sadness. I am crying, tears stream from my eyes and I moan and groan as loud as I can as to say, “I surrender” or “Please have mercy!” And I can guarantee you that no mercy was given within these next two excruciatingly painful moments.

His mouth gaps open as he snarls and digs his faced into my chest and starts ripping the flesh off of my chest. I scream in agony as he digs his claw-like fingers into my sides as he digs deep into my rib cage.
He slurps and snarls and eats my flesh off of my chest area; blood covers the both of us, walls included.

Actually the entire cell had been splashed with a lot of my blood.

I scream and thrash as much as I could, I swear I had shredded my vocal chords trying to scream for help… but none came and I am left in there being eaten by the devil’s possessed puppet as he holds me still.
He’s the lion and I am the injured gazelle, and his feast has only started, about one minute in he has torn
through the basic muscle and tissue cavity, now here comes the bone and organs.

I didn’t scream anymore rather than I just silently screamed as he kept digging in…literally.
I was past fear. Past pain. Past hell.

I was losing my soul.

He then rips apart my rib cage covering my heart with his bloody teeth. Fuck, I wish I was dead and in hell where I belong. But no… I had to suffer and stay alive for some odd reason; even though logic did state I should be dead by now.

He finally reaches the heart and I watch as he just stares at the heart with hunger in his expression and blood covering his face.

My vision blurs looks like the blood loss is getting to me. He savors the moment and released his hands from my sides and slowly wraps his left hand around my still beating heart, and I feel it. I am paralyzed and I remain still and I keep gazing at him as he prepares to kill me.

“Erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.” He says as he rips my heart from my chest and I gasp sharply for the breath of life of which I had just lost.

He looks at my heart with lust and hunger. Before I know it my heart begins to glow a bright silver and as soon as it shows this sliver of hope within my heart, Gregory hisses at it like a snake and the silver grows a crimson blood-red.

The hope is lost and I witness Gregory eat my heart, taking bite after bite after bite into my heart.

I black out and I go nowhere, I cease to exist in soul form and in human form.

You may classify this as either hell or purgatory.

But it’s worse… it’s nothingness. It is cold and it is dark. Darker than dark. Here lives only fear and I am its only resident.

I am then woken up by a voice that whispers: day five.

---

I know that this one came early but hell I had to, I wouldn’t have time to do this stuff tomorrow.

Hope you guys are enjoying this series as much as I am enjoying creating it. So far I have filled in some plot holes that might have been very subsabntial to the story so thank you so much for reading.

Please follow me on twitter @GizmoOG or catch me on tumblr on https://hellsrejects.tumblr.com

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Comment and let me know what you guys think 🙂

Sincerely, 

Orlando S.C./ Hells Reject

Five Days Act III

Act III

September 11th 2013, 2:00 pm, My Apartment

I had a dream earlier today.
I was inside Gregory’s cell at the asylum. I was in my orderly uniform and Gregory sat on his bed across from me. The cell door was behind me and I just looked at him on the bed… curled in a ball and rocking back and forth holding his sweaty head.
He looked panicked and very miserable. He just sat there holding his head tightly as if it was going to fall off. I stared at him, I wanted to speak to him but I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.
I just remained standing there, staring at him.
Upon his bed, which was unmade, he kept whispering some words, and I almost recognize them. I move closer to him from the other side of the room but not too close, just close enough for me to hear his silent speak.
“Erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae. Erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae.” He said this over and over, sounding more scared each time.
These words were in my journal from last night. Did he write that?
“Gregory?” I ask. Without missing a second he stopped whispering and cocked his head toward my direction and just stared at me and began to cry.
He sobs almost uncontrollably and he just drops and unfolds himself on the floor from off his bed. He then curls up again on the floor and sibs even harder. I almost rush to help him until he speaks up.
“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER! RUN! YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE! HE WILL GET ANGRY!” He still sobs while he tries to sound angry and frightening towards me, but I just felt sorry for him. Oddly enough he didn’t give off a scary kind of vibe anymore. If anything I was concerned.
“What do you mean; who will get angry?!” I ask sounding more confused than ever. Just then the crying stops, tears stream down his face as it displays pure terror yet content at the same time. Without warning, his body twitches then is spread eagle upon the pavement floor. His eyes stare at the ceiling and tears stream down his cheeks as he lets out a silent cry from his open mouth.
He was paralyzed and he couldn’t move at all.
Fear pierces my heart and the hairs in the back of my neck began to stand up, as Gregory Richards is lifted from the floor (still in his position) his limbs dangle as he levitates slowly to my eye level- then stops.
His head turns to me, with eyes black as night. His face was void of any traces of the real him. This was something else.
He then smiles that wicked smile again while floating in the air still. I gasp and try to hold down my vomit from remembering last night’s events.
He laughs cackles actually, his voice sounding deeper than usual; this wasn’t Gregory Richards anymore; it was something evil.
He stops then keeps his stare toward me. “You’re going to die soon…” Before I could utter a syllable he-
He just… His body explodes.
His entire body exploded like a fucking bubble and his insides spread everywhere and I was in the splash zone. I was drenched; head to toe in his blood and intestines. I shiver and stay still before I collapse on my knees and vomit onto the now blood soaked concrete floor.
Fuck it felt so real.
I woke up; persuaded by my dream I called the asylum.
That’s when John answered. I could hear a laughing sound in the background.
“Hello? John is that you?” I asked him. He inhales sharply as if laughing from a really good joke.
“Thank you Jason; thank you!” He practically is giddy with happiness from the other side of the phone line.
“For what?…” I was almost hesitant to ask why.
“Oh no, you can’t play dumb with me, I saw the security footage; don’t worry I destroyed it.” He tells me as if to reassure me. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“You killed him… you saved me.” My heart sank and I almost drop to my knees.
“John, how did he die?” I ask, I know I didn’t kill him.
I was in my bedroom the entire time. But I knew that acting like I knew what he was talking about would make him explain clearly.
“You should know, you stabbed the guy; but don’t worry I covered for you. He has been labeled the victim of self-infliction.” He says laughing. “He killed himself.” I utter under my breath. “Yes a little over an hour ago, and then you clocked out and left for the day; remember?”
Just then my teeth started chattering, my entire being had shivered and shook and I was truly terrified.
“John, I didn’t go to work today.” I shattered his illusion by no less than a crack. He had rejected all threads of truth I had told him. The more I told him I wasn’t there at work, the more he just told me I was sick or something and that I needed rest; but I can still hear fear creep into his voice.
Then I remembered something. Five days.
“John; did any of the other workers that watched Gregory make it to five days?”
“What?” He said sounding as if he didn’t know what I was talking about.
“Did any of the people that watched Gregory before me ever make it to five days, and if they did. Are they still alive today.” I asked. There was silence. “C’mon John I need a straight fucking answer!” I shouted.
“Okay! No they didn’t make it to five days, after the first day watching the poor bastard they quit.” He answered now sounding as irritated as me. There was silence until he answered again. “And no, they all died; all ten of them.”
That’s when I realized that John really was Gregory’s servant. “You have been feeding this fucker?” I was beyond pissed. I just couldn’t even have respect for him anymore.
“I made a deal in exchange for my own life; I was the first to watch him.” His voice trailed off and he sounded sad now.
“Well I hope you are fucking happy.” I said sarcastically. “But you are the only one out of all of us that made it this far… you must be special.”
Then there was a long sustained dial tone. “Hello?” I asked but I didn’t wait for an answer, I hung up and sat there on my bed. Shit, Gregory was dead… I was just in shock. I was even still trying to comprehend how I could have been seen in the footage when I wasn’t even there.
I was scared, after what had just happened I can now say, I believe in the supernatural, so much now that it is no longer superstition to me; it was reality.
There are demons, there are angels. There’s heaven and there’s Hell. There is a God, and there is a devil.
…wait a minute.

September 11th 2013, 8:00 pm, My Apartment.

I did some dirt digging and I had found something.
First I started with that writing that Gregory had left me in my other entry.
I searched it online and I found out that: erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae. Actually means: The devil will take the souls of those that keep trapped the soulless.
Along with it came thousands of links to these websites dedicated to this phrase.
After hours of searching and studying and searching, I finally found a little background story to this phrase.
In 1930, The founder of Stone-Brook Asylum, Joseph Stone-Brook, had sold his soul to the devil (as proven by supposedly found journal in the wake of his death) in order to lift the asylum’s curse. (He was insane and took way too much Valium with his whiskey) He believed that the asylum was haunted by the souls of those that killed themselves in the asylum after a series of lobotomies that have gone horribly wrong.
The asylum was his so-called legacy so these were some desperate times for him. He was convinced that business was bad because the ghosts of a few bad lobotomy/suicide victims had haunted the property.
He was the told by Lucifer himself, that he will grant his request but in one condition: The devil would have to take possession of Joseph and share this vessel with him.
Now overtime his body just became a vessel for Satan and Joseph’s soul kept aging and aching and just flat out died eventually. Now Joseph (according to the website) was dead and the devil had left the vessel.
Until some cult had dug up Joseph’s body and ran away with it; hoping that their master was still trapped within the soulless body of Joseph Stone-Brook.
The whereabouts of the cult and or Joseph remain unknown.
This was very interesting and creepy but it got even weirder when I noticed something: In the picture of Joseph Stone-Brooke, you can see very clearly that he looks exactly like Gregory Richards.
Right down to that last hair on his creepy and almost bald cranium. His black and partially buzzed haircut, his aged skin and long face; even his eyes were the exact same shape and size.
I really don’t know what was going on but I had an inkling as to what had happened which almost didn’t explain itself.
Joseph was Gregory; he had changed his name to cover his tracks. Which means the cult successfully resurrected him; now I was Satan’s next target.
“Fuck!” I shouted as I had just got off my laptop on my desk in my room.
This all still doesn’t explain the phrase.
“The devil will take the souls of those who keep trapped the soulless.” I could understand who the soulless was (Joseph/Gregory).
But there was more; who was the one that trapped him? How could anyone have trapped him?
What does it mean?

September 11th 2013, 11:59 pm, My Apartment

I am growing tired, I honestly cannot stay awake. I yawn loudly as I just sit here writing contemplating what the phrase meant.
Oh shit! I just realized today was day three it’s going to be number four soon.
Oh God, STAY UP STAY UP STAY UP.

Why hello Jason,
You are asleep now and I am truly sorry to tell you that you are missing something in this perplexing and overly complicated tale.
How old do you think your boss is?
50? 60? No, try 113…
Connect the dots then meet me at the asylum.
Sincerely,
Joseph.
PS- Day Four

September 12th 2013, 6:00 am, My Apartment.

Fuck… it happened again.
Why does he keep doing this? WHY?
WHY THE FUCK CANT HE GO AWAY? WHY ME?
IF YOU HEAR ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH; GET OUT OF MY LIFE!
STOP TOYING WITH ME YOU PSYCHO PIECE OF SHIT!
…

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Five Days Act I (Frightful Fridays)

FIVE DAYS ACT I by Orlando Chacon

September 8th 2013: 11:00 pm, Stone-Brooke Asylum

It was cold, colder than it would normally be this time of year, but hell, it didn’t bother me much. The leaves were starting to fall from the trees, turning a bright orange. However, the bright orange wasn’t visible tonight. Around this time, the darkness made everything seem lifeless and more sinister.

But that’s just me. Or was it the asylum? I don’t know, but it didn’t bother me too much; I was a tough kind of guy; even though I was scrawny and had very little muscle and few combat skills.

I parked my car in the parking lot past the rusted gates of the old, Victorian mansion-like, asylum. I worked here as a security guard. I decided to talk to my boss yesterday and ask for some extra hours to pay off some bills that I had coming up.

He looked at me that day in some sort of odd looking “are you sure?” way so I may have had a couple thoughts about his look before he could give me the hours.
“Is there anything wrong with that sir?” I asked as we stood in his small square office, surrounded by his desktop computer and a desk scattered with patients’ paper work and coffee mug stains next to his actual black coffee mug. He looked at me, eyes squinted and wrinkles upon his aged face and his gray eyebrows narrowed inward. “No, there isn’t. It’s just that not many of the guys want overtime.” He says as he walks over to behind his desk and sits in his desk chair. I was a bit curious so I asked about it again.

“Why, sir?” I ask politely. “Because of Gregory Richards-“He came out with it quickly and with an exhausted sigh. “What do you mean, Gregory who?” I respond, not to sure what he said.

He explained to me why with the same I’m-an-old-man-and-I-don’t-give-a-damn-tone.
“Gregory Richards, A.K.A: the Cannibal; he has been known to disembowel his victims and eat their innards afterwards. He got caught one evening as he was feasting on the family of this little boy-“He paused and a sort of disturbed look clouded his face. “Sad to say, that it was the little boy and his older brother that caught him as they came home from school- poor kids.” He looked up at me and then shrugged as if he was shrugging away a bad thought. A chill ran down my spine, just thinking about those poor kids having to come home from school to such a horrible mess. “Jesus that’s awful.” I exclaim.

“I know- but yeah, he got committed here five years ago, way before you started working here.” He continued. “Okay so what’s that got to do with over time?” I ask. He looks at me and begins to explain.

“Gregory “the Cannibal” Richards, is the only not-so-behaved resident to Stone-Brook and needs to be under constant watch; usually I would do it because I have seen everything he could throw at me so I handle it better.” My head cocks to the left slowly as I contemplate what he meant. “Okay so would that be my overtime?” I assumed. He just stared at me and nodded. He then began to pull out some overtime paperwork for me from his behind his desk and he walked on over to my position by the doorway. Carrying the small folder in his right hand he gave it to me along with a separate sheet of paper that looked like the form for over time. I grabbed it and something was off.

I stared at the paper in confusion and then at the thick, yellow-covered file that he gave me with it. It felt heavy and I felt very strange about this. Upon the file was a stamp in bold red ink: “Classified”.

“Sir what is this?” I ask pointing at the file. He just looked at me and said gruffly: “You need to brush up on some homework before you can watch him.” I looked curiously at the folder then turned to say thank you to him and I left. But as I was out the doorway I heard him mumble something: “God have mercy on your soul.” He said silently under his breath. I quickly turn around and ask him what he had said but he just sent me on my way.

Anyways back at the parking lot I sit in my old Volvo looking at the asylum building. In my passenger seat was the file I didn’t bother to read but I had told my boss I did anyways.
Oh well, here goes nothing.

September 9th 2013, 12:00 am, Stone-Brook Asylum

Okay, so this wasn’t too bad. I was a little freaked out at first but then my chest released its grip on my heart and I finally face my fear.

The 15-story Asylum was separated into three parts: The female ward to the far left, male ward was at the far right, and the center of the building was for the demented and the clinically insane (therefore I worked on the tonight).

Usually I would work in the male ward, keeping the peace between disturbed sick teens with schizophrenia or I would just roam the rooms of the adult males in the back, making sure no one tried anything funny. Due to protocol I wasn’t allowed to be anywhere but the male ward but tonight I was the exception to this rule.

When I arrived inside the lobby room, (which looked like a very dark sort of dungeon with computers in it) file in one hand and my lunch box in the other, I was immediately halted and asked to show my ID badge to two unknown guards that I have never seen before. Well clearly they didn’t see the badge on my left breast pocket or they didn’t notice that I was wearing the same uniform as they were.

I flashed them my ID with the hand I was holding the file with and they told me to go through John’s (My boss) office for further instructions. I guess they knew what I was doing here. I came through there and listen to the boss ramble about the safety precautions as they were the same rules used in the males ward that I had guarded all the time: ‘Don’t communicate with the patients, Don’t abuse the patients, Don’t give the patient any sort of item, harmless or harmful etc.

Once we got finished he patted my shoulder and looked me dead in the eye and just stared at me. I felt awkward as his brown elderly eyes examine me. “You know believe it or not, you remind me of myself when I was your age.” He said with his hands still on my shoulder. “Thanks, sir?” I say awkwardly, he continued: “I was exactly like you, smart, but stupid at the same time.” I was kind of offended at the remark but then I noticed something strange: as he lifted his hand off my shoulder, I saw from behind him, on his desk was a square bottle of Scotch and a drinking glass that was half empty. We weren’t supposed to drink in the asylum but I ignored it since he is the boss. He then pulled out a ring of three different keys and gives it to me. “This one is for the entrance to the ward. This one is for the control room, and this one is for when you feed him.” He explains each key from left to right. I say thank you then turn to leave.

Right when I was about to leave and report to my post in the Clinically Insane ward he stopped me. “And Jason!” He shouted my name when I was at least ten feet away and into the dark narrow hallway with only the boss’ office light illuminating the small corner of the hall. I turned around and he speaks again. “Read the file.” He says softly as he sits down and pours more of the Scotch in his glass.

How the fuck did he know I didn’t read the file? Whatever, he was probably drunk or something. Anyways, I left the office and reported to the dimly-lit security room next to Richard’s cell.

The building looked a lot like the other two wards. I mean it was all one building but the criminally insane had something a little more reinforced. There was always that same white paint on the ceiling walls and floor; it was dirty and boring but this place was never fancy or well-kept anyways.

I walk through halls of reinforced steel doors that contained the most dangerous and most insane criminals ever caught within this city. The bottom floor was almost depressing, because the fluorescents gave me a fuckin headache from hell. Past at least twenty rooms, I finally reached the elevator which was almost like a silver prison cell on its own. As I walk into the elevator I put my lunch box and the file on the ground to free my hands long enough to push the button.

But just as I am about to push the silver number 12 button, I heard a moaning noise, like someone had been in pain or something. The moan was faint and muffled so I assume it was from upstairs. These steel doors may be reinforced but they were not sound proof. I leaned my head outside the elevator and try to ask who that was. “Who was that?” I ask… no answer. Suddenly there is a cackling noise coming from one of the cells from a distance. “What the hell?” I said to myself.

I felt a cold feeling running down my spine, I wanted to go out there and investigate but I had a job to do. So I pushed the elevator button and started toward my post. *
So I finally got here on the twelfth floor and now I am inside the security room next to my new best friend in the whole wide world (I’m being sarcastic I wouldn’t hang anywhere around this sick fuck).

Things are going okay so far, I honestly was expecting something creepy as hell, especially after reading his file for the first thirty minutes.
His mug shot showed his rather awkward and unpleasant features; he had dark rings around his eyes (I guess from him being very tired), he had a square jaw and an unshaven face and had buzz cut styled, black, hair.

He was a skinny kind of guy but he was skinnier then me, almost anorexic. His face was unshaven and he had dark-brown eyes accompanied by black eyebrows.
Okay so get this; his appearance in court, he had complained multiple times to his lawyer that he was hearing voices within his head, telling him to kill everyone in that court room. Now to me that would have been an automatic plea of insanity… but it gets worse.
After reporting said voices, he somehow broke out of his cuffs and fought off the security guards that rushed in to restrain him. The guards tried their best to restrain him but Gregory used their defenses against them and snatched one of the guards’ batons and beat both the officers’ near-to-death with it.

This sent a chill down my spine as I continued to read. I could almost imagine myself in the court room with him. After the brutal attacks on the officers he shouted at the whole court room, saying: “You will all burn in Hell.” Afterwards he jumped at almost impossible lengths and speeds onto the desk of the judge and attacked him. What he did to the judge was apparently so bad that it put the judge in the hospital for months. Gregory… oh God, Gregory had chomped down on the young judge’s neck and tore away not just his skin but a good amount of his neck tendons and muscle tissue.

Judge Clapton, I believe now has to wear a neck brace for the rest of his life and Gregory was sent here for the rest of his natural life.

However, as this night shift progressed he just sat there in his twin mattress bed surrounded by stone walls. The camera had a view of the room from its upper right corner in the far back of the room. The monitor I was watching him in displayed full color and sat on top of a small wooden table. In front of me was a control board and a set of buttons and a small spot for a microphone, right next to my beige green, suitcase-like, lunch box and the file on top of it.

I could literally hear him and speak to him if necessary, but only if necessary. The only thing I was told not to do was to a) not stick my hands into his feeding/mail opening at his door and b) Don’t socialize with him; use the PA system if only you needed to speak to him.
Keep in mind that we weren’t supposed to even talk to the patients let alone socialize with them, and yet I was told it was okay for this guy.

I’ll update when I can later in the shift.

September 9th 2013, 1:00 am, Stone-Brook Asylum

Ok this is some freaky shit.

Let me tell you something, this guy doesn’t make sense, let alone sound like any normal human being, then again he was insane.

After I had written the last journal entry, a question came to mind: What did John (my boss) mean that he had seen everything that Gregory could throw at him? And what did he mean by saying that the other workers never ask for overtime, I mean you are going to want some overtime some time; right?

I guessed that Gregory had the answers. So I turned on the PA system within his room from next door. He quickly noticed the overhead speaker in his room make a high pitched squeal as I turned on the intercom. He shifts from his position of lying down on his bed which was bolted to the back wall of his cell by the steel frame. He quickly sat up and yawned. He wore only his white asylum jumpsuit, which hung off his slender body.

“Why hello, Jason.” He said with his deep yet hoarse voice. How the hell did he know my name?

I am speechless for a second but I had to ask him my questions. I pressed the button down on the control pad for speaking back to him and kept it held down for the remaining period of me speaking. It was a press down to speak and let go to remain silent kind of system so I followed the rules accordingly.

“Uh, how did you know my name?” I ask sounding dumbfounded then let go of the button.
He stares at the door across from his position on the opposite wall and continued talking loud enough for the speakers to hear. “Johnathan told me.” He explained; what the fuck john? I pushed the button down and answered without hesitation. “Why did he tell you my name?”

“The boss man always tells me who’s watching.” He answers then continues”-He takes pity on me for having to spend the rest of my natural born life here. So he lets me know who I am talking to so that I won’t be too alone with my thoughts.” He explains.

Now why the hell would John have pity on this man? He fucking killed multiple families, attacked three guards, and almost ripped out a guy’s throat.

I continue to talk to him but things just got weirder.

“So you and John, you two are friends?” I ask. “No, he is my servant and I am his master.” He tells me as he twitches his head toward the camera up in the corner. He sounded so serious, like he actually meant it.

“What do you mean?” I ask with my hand still holding down the button. “Oh?” He is looking at me questionably as he gets up from his bed and stands up; his long and scrawny body stretches for s brief moment as he walks into the center of the room then faces the camera.

“-he didn’t tell you?” He chuckles a small chuckle and then he grins, staring wickedly into the camera. I continued to speak though my fingers were getting sore form holding down the button for so long.

“Tell me what?” I ask him almost letting the eerie feeling of fear creep from my mouth and into the overhead speaker inside his room. “Tell me what?”

“You’ll see… in five days’ time, you will see what I mean.” He chuckles as he held out his hand with all five fingers of his pale hand directed at the camera. Soon his chuckle had become a cackle and he had collapsed to the floor laughing his lungs out.

I couldn’t stand it, the most maniacal, most sinister laugh I have ever heard in my entire life. This surpassed anything that I have ever heard for seen in horror movies. I then turn off the PA system in his room and then I turned off the volume from the monitor.

I then lean back in the small chair at the desk of the stone brick 10×10 foot concrete room; which was only illuminated by one florescent light bulb, whereas Gregory had two rows of florescent lights in his cell on his ceiling.

As I lay back in my chair as I closed my eyes to relax just take my mind of this psycho -motherfucker for a while.

I lean back for a second and I already feel a chill run down my spine as the hairs of my neck stood up.

I shrugged off the feeling and then I felt breathing down my neck. (Fuck) I open my eyes and no-one was there.

Suddenly something whispers into my ear and says: “Day one”

I just about lost it and darted out of that fucking room grabbing the file and lunchbox and

ran to the stairwell instead of the elevator.
Fuck overtime.

[Authors note: yes I will be posting these for frightful Fridays and I hope you enjoy this story; Acts II – V are already written and ready for posting but I being the tortuous and demented person I am, shall post the next act on the next Frightful Friday.  Hope you enjoyed this and comment if you like or simply just like, thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Orlando S.C./ Hells Reject.]

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