Exploration By Daylight: A Foray Into the Past
I passed those first hours exploring the asylum in the fading daylight, trying to map out the layout of the place before night fell. It was rather a labyrinth of corridors and stairways, with rooms opening out in every direction through endless corridors. Some had been completely gutted, while others looked as if they had been preserved in aspic. I discovered piles of patient records scattered across the floors, rusty old medical equipment perched in every corner, and a litter of chairs lined up in circles in what used to be common areas. It was as if overnight, patients simply disappeared along with everything that belonged to them.
In one of the larger rooms, what appeared to be some sort of old operating theater lay hidden. The room was dark, and only the rusty, ominous shape of the operating table stood out, casting long shadows against the cracked walls. I could almost see the procedures that had taken place here: gruesome operations that patients had had to undergo with no anesthesia, shrieking in pain as doctors tried to “cure” them with outdated, brutal techniques.
I began feeling as though I was being watched while walking down the empty hallways of my house. I stopped several times and listened intently, but all that sounded could be the beat of my own breathing and the whispering of the wind rubbing against broken windows. Was it some play of imagination or actually something-or someone-following me? That was the end of it and how I just moved around the place, though that feel never left me alone.
