Heather stepped closer to me and squeezed my hand tight. The feeling of not being afraid felt nice, but I wondered if it would be wise to turn back now. What was there to prove by hanging out here? We came, we saw, and now we had our story.

I turned around and faced the doors. Heather said, "you're not scared, are you?" Me, scared? I'm not the largest guy, but I'm definitely not the smallest. I stand around five eleven, and I'm pretty sure I could fight off most things that would cross our path. I'm not sure what Heather's plan was, but I'm not scared. My heart continued to race as my skin felt cold.

I said, "me? No." Once I swallowed the knot of ice in my throat, I turned away from the door and walked into the center of the lobby. There were small two-inch holes spread out across the walls, and the ceiling looked as though it was ready to give in. The reception desk was cluttered with fallen debris, and it appeared this debris had sat for a long time. Dust had collected atop it and remained undisturbed. I began to walk toward the stairs, and Heather followed. As I walked forward, I tried not to step on anything.

Shards of glass reflected the moonlight shining in through the windows and the dull yellow rays of the lamps which flickered. The buzz of these old lights pervaded the silence and broke the dull tone of the breeze pushing through this place. I pushed my fingertips through my locks of brown hair and sighed. As we stood at the edge of the stairs, I felt a bit of unease. My neck tensed, and my back felt cool now that sweat clung to my shirt. I stepped forward and my legs seemed weaker than usual.

Together, with her hand in mine, we climbed the stairs until we reached the top. There were two red couches, both of them were torn apart by vandals and withered by time. Between the couches sat a single coffee table. Black, but tinged brown because of the dirt which rested upon it. At the bottom right edge of this table sat a Panasonic RF-562D radio. I know the model because it's the same kind my dad has. We approached the radio, and I picked it up.

The radio had a metal casing, and it didn't have any signs of rust. I looked at Heather and then down the hallway behind her. It yawned into darkness, and its end eluded me. The radio wasn't clean, as there were fingerprints and other signs of use on it, but it wasn't as dirty as I thought it should be. This radio was from the sixties, nearly thirty years ago. I turned the radio on and music began to play backwards from it. Silence then came, and the voice of a radio host appeared. That also played backwards.

I smacked the radio and then it said, "they're coming, they're coming," I looked at Heather. Her eyebrows sank as the man nearly sang, he continued, "for me, for you." I shuddered as I held the radio. Perhaps the radio is broken, and that's why it's here. It cannot play things the correct way, but, how? This radio takes in radio waves and plays them. I don't think it could play these things backwards — even if it wanted to. Something off in the distance caught my attention. Leaves hung in the air, and they drifted slowly. The shadows surrounding us seemed to grow, and I felt my heart beat in my chest.

I do not mean that as in, I was nervous. I could feel my own heartbeat, as though I was getting pulled from my own body. As I looked onward down the corridor, three fingers, long and skeletal, reached around the corner. While they clasped the corner of the wall, a veil of shadows consumed them. I turned the radio off and blinked. The leaves which once hung in the air fell naturally. I wondered... How were they floating in the first place? Did I really just see fingers at the end of the hallway in front of us?

Once I came to, I realized I stood by myself in front of the coffee table. Heather wandered around in front of me, looking outside. Had she not seen what I saw? My hands shook and my breath became unsteady. I think I just blacked out for a moment. I set the radio down on the coffee table and stepped away. What the hell just happened? The world felt as though it was shrinking, and I found that it was difficult to catch my breath. Heather walked toward the radio and picked it up.

She frowned and said, "I didn't think you were going to give me a turn, you listened to it for a few minutes." Few minutes? I only held it for a couple of seconds. Heather walked down the hallway in front of us. The walls were dilapidated, and the ceiling sagged. Two-inch holes, for some unknown reason, were spread out across the walls, but not the ceiling or floor. The image of those fingers flashed in my mind as we walked into the shadows of the hall. The air became cooler, and the hairs on my neck stood straight up. I took a deep breath in and pretended to be unperturbed.

Heather proceeded deeper into the dark corridor. She turned left, walked farther, and took a few more turns. She entered various rooms, their purpose elude me. She continued until fear finally stopped her from exploring. Her movement forward stuttered as she entered a small security room, and then stopped. She turned toward me, radio in hand, and seemed surprised.

She said, "I, uh, we can leave now. I'm not too keen about this place." I nodded. It's reasonable to believe both of us are ready to leave. I grabbed the radio and examined it one last time. I set the radio down on the security desk and we left the security room. I looked to my right and saw many corridors leading to mysteries unknown, and I saw much the same when I looked left. I cannot recall how we got here, only that we did.

I said, "do you know how to get out?"

Heather chuckled, and said, "I was hoping you were paying attention. Um, I don't really know." I turned right and walked down a corridor, and Heather followed. The intercom speakers burst to life, and the music playing in reverse washed over me. How could that radio have turned on, and, oh. I must've set it front of the speaker microphone. As we walk, I notice my shadow, birth by the lights passing overhead, doesn't exactly seem to follow my movements. The music grows in volume, and Heather begins to whimper. I try my best to remember this labyrinth of an asylum to no avail. Every turn I take seems to lead us away from the exit and deeper into the pit of this asylum.

As we quickly walked down a hallway, I turned left and entered a small gymnasium. That's when I saw it. There was a vast figure standing on the wall. What it was, I cannot describe. I could not see a head, or even limbs. Only something dark and hideous watching me. It began to close the distance between us as I quaked in fear.