'I believe ... yes I believe ...'

'Don't invite him in for once he has you then you will forever be trapped, forever destined to live it over and over, starting and restarting ... form may change, as circumstance does too, darkness ... darkness is eternal.'

1.

They waited until darkness had fallen before making their grand entrance. Hopes are high and eagerness grabs a hold. The promise of where this could possibly take them is enormous. Both their phones recording, what they hoped they'd capture surely would send their joint YouTube channel into the stratospheres of cyber space. Each made a joint grandiose introduction via the phone the other was holding.

'This is a momentous occasion ...' says one.

'... You are about to witness a moment in history' the other says.

'We are about to enter one of the most hellacious buildings known to man ...' going back to he who spoke first.

It continues for a few moments in this vein. An edit of their combined recordings would be made at another time, or so they hoped. Boys will be boys, especially at sixteen years of age.

Their combined lighting did little to illuminate much of the surroundings, but what they were capturing sent them into a stunned silence. Remnants of a real-life hell and more would come right at them. The wave of copper which hit their senses upon entry confirms they are onto something big as does the realization that this is real, something no longer that of myth.

Heart rates quicken and it didn't take long for each to consider if they should be doing what they are here to do.

Perhaps their cyber channel would do just fine without this event. They had heard the stories, now they are experiencing the venue for themselves, and it is less cool and more frightening than either of them ever expected it to be. Believing is one thing, experiencing is another. Both go quiet and the general silence intensifies as they both continued on.

If they had thought this out properly, it probably would have been wise to have cased out this place in the day light before ever deciding to enter in utter darkness. Surely it is too late to turn back now. They have come so far. Sure, once their video goes viral, they'll be superstars at school, the pay-off must come, so on they go.

A moment of fear in exchange for future stardom is the thinking now; little could they know that stardom would visit them not in the way they hoped. Something soon not only breaks the silence but also stops both boys in their tracks.

'What was that?' one asks of the other, fully knowing what it is he heard, wanting confirmation of what it was, or rather confirmation that everything is alright, and that perhaps it was something else entirely.

He couldn't have heard that sound; neither of them could have, it's not possible, but hear it they did, both of them. A scream, not exactly a scream but more of a wail, had echoed from way up ahead, a woman's wail, or perhaps that of a girl. Both phones are held out, and the combined illumination does not reveal anything. It happens again. A second wail, one more searing than the last, echoes out and this one seems to be closer, a lot closer.

'Oh shit ...'

'Yeah, shit ... maybe we ...'

They both begin to make an exit as quick as possible. Both phones shake so much that neither camera can record anything of note. Seconds seem unending, the scramble becoming all the more difficult as the seconds pass, and an exit is not coming. The dark becomes all the more prevalent when one light fails. There is a quick swoosh and a thud then a splatter.

One friend feels a spray upon one side of his face, and it begins to roll slowly down one cheek. He touches it and his light shows his fingers have wiped a red liquid from his own cheek, blood perhaps? ... blood which belongs to the other boy. Another thud comes. Neither friend would make it out. A video is never edited and never goes online, never mind ever going viral.

2.

Unwanted things cannot jump into your experience uninvited.

Freedom from the fear of unwanted experiences will never be achieved by trying to control the behaviour and desires of others. Your freedom can only be allowed by adjusting your own vibrational point of attraction ...

... Like anyone would be, I am flattered by your fascination with me ...

For years now, it has lain there on the edge of town, empty, void of all life, as dead as anything can be, though this can be ... and has been ... something which has often been up for debate. The old Castletown Asylum at its peak housed up to one hundred and fifty guests at any given time.

All sorts came here back in the day, from those dealing with addiction to those suffering with anxiety or depression to those seeking help with mental health issues and those referred by doctors and professionals. And at a time too long before mental health issues were considered and treated to a standard to which they are today.

Rarely would someone dealing with, or consumed by, something dark or sinister be referred here for this place provided home and rest bite for ordinary people with ordinary problems. It was a place where one could feel safe and secure. Anything of a more sinister nature would generally end up elsewhere.

Guests were mostly just that, guests. Most were free to come and go at will, some would have a period of time where their woes would be attended to. They would have a specialised programme to complete away from their every-day life.

It would be one deathly guest in particular who would be the cause, the reason why the asylum now rests in darkness. A criminal, a murderer arrives with reason two-fold, one of which is due to unyielding weather conditions preventing transport to a more suitable location and the other being an intention to acquire a brief assessment. Is this man insane or is he just plain old evil? Opinion and debate can be two very different things.

Wednesday, the twelfth day of August 1953, a late-night arrival intentionally arranged at such a time to reduce risk of harm to those already here; police escorts accompanied this with an intention of rotating shifts remaining in operation until the guests' departure. The song 'I Believe' by Frankie Laine plays gently through a gramophone.

Harm comes one way or another when the not all so pleasant arriving guest slipped his restraints, having somehow gained access to a blade. The first to perish were the two on duty escorts whose training proved insufficient to deal with such a guest, especially being caught so off-guard as they were, and they were followed by attending physicians and doctors before this criminal with the darkness of motivations, moved onto the residents of the building.

Crimson sprays splattered the white walls just as if an artist was painting away having free range on the largest of blank canvas and painting away without his normal array of tools, instead using whatever he had at his disposal, becoming a conductor orchestrating a symphony, a soundtrack in itself of gore and destruction.

Screams and roars, agony and death. A true to life living nightmare. One by one the symbols come crashing together until all the music eventually drowns out ... dies out. Left unwitnessed or investigated, it could hardly be believed at all.

An ultimate blood bath came to an end when all but one was wiped out. The lone survivor being a twenty-two-year-old man who had come to this place on his own accord in an attempt to get his own life together, a young man who would be the one to end the life of a guest who caused so much death and destruction.

After this night, the asylum would never again open its doors either for business or for anything else, and of course, the stories would soon begin. Stories of what happened that night, exaggerated or otherwise, would often be told as would stories that the souls of the dearly departed returning from the great beyond to roam the halls on a regular basis.

The never again opening of its doors ... is something up for debate depending on the stories one may hear ...