Logan was packing the last of his house for his move. It didn't take him long to find the only house within a 15 mile radius from any other (legal) human life. Ten miles into the woods and then five miles from the closest human inhabited building, the asylum. Logan would rather hear crazy people scream than anyone with a comprehensive mind to judge.

   Logan got up from sealing the last box. After the work on his house was done, he had hired movers to get the furniture for him. The last people that lived there moved out in 1936 so it wasn't in the greatest condition. Logan had renovated the kitchen and bathrooms along with repairs to other minuscule parts of the house. It was a two bedroom, one master, and one bath, with a single story.

   Logan picked up the box and walked out his front door. He slid the box into the back of his U-haul before slamming down the truck door. Logan turned to look back at his house, with the "for sale" sign in the yard, he felt no nostalgia or doubt about his decision as he turned away from the boring stucco house. With a slam of the truck door he started his three hour drive into the woods.

   Nothing too notable happened on this drive, just the slow thin of buildings and the melodies of the radio. Once out of town it became scattered trees and empty spreads of land. When the asylum came into sight it's outlandish view captivated Logan. It was a white building, almost gray, with a black roof. It looked to be about four stories tall, but most likely went underground. As he got closer he saw a large metal fence around a yard, there were maybe twenty or thirty people in the yard, not including the guards. As Logan sped past in the truck one man caught his eye, he had terrible posture and an unruly mustache, but eyes like Roman.

   Logan shot his head forward and put his eyes back on the road. He had made eye contact. The man smiled at him. He had a gap between his two front teeth and was missing a canine. 'Maybe I don't want to hear the crazy people either,' Logan thought silently.

   When Logan pulled up on the dirt driveway the sun had already set. He jumped out of the truck, opened the back and pulled out a box before he made his way to the door. He struggled with the key for a second before getting the door open. He walked in and looked around. The first thing to catch his eye was the big back window with a view of the woods, of his backyard. He looked to his right and into the kitchen. As he walked around he felt a chill slither down his spine, eyes on him. He brushed off the feeling and began to unpack, this was his home now.   

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Wow, alright so there's chapter two. Me and my editor had a time with this (this chapter is fully edited) it took 3 days total to draft, write, and edit this. Due to the fact that this took so long me and Logan had some interesting quotes from our calls. 

Me: "Figurative language, do we know her?"

Logan (sadly): "..............no............"

~~~

Logan: "Are you okay?"

Me: "What is your definition of okay?"

Logan: ".......dead?"

Me (holding back laughter): "Well I'm not dead, So I'm alright."

Logan: ".......wait......"

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Any who, thx for ready cuz now we are actually  diving in to the meat of this story.

(I'm posting this chapter 5 hours and 40 minutes early)