Nightfall: The Asylum Comes Alive
By the time the sun had actually set, the asylum felt to be altogether a different world. Long corridors, which in daylight had seemed deserted and lifeless, now vibrated with an otherworldly energy. The silence, which had almost at first been comforting, was oppressive, almost thick with tension. Every noise became amplified: old wooden floorboards groaning, a distant door creaking, the occasional rustle of something I could not quite pinpoint.
I set up a little camp in one of the middle corridors of the asylum, with my flashlight, journal, and a few basic supplies laid out. My plan was to spend most of the night in one central location, checking in periodically on different wings to see if anything weird went on. It wasn’t until around 9 pm that things started getting really creepy-all because I had just begun to settle into my little impromptu lean-to of blankets and index cards at the end of the hall.
I was sitting in the hallway when I heard the sound of footsteps coming from the direction of one of the neighboring patient wings. It was unmistakable: slow, heavy steps, like someone walking purposefully toward me. I took my flashlight in hand and pointed it down the corridor. There was no one there. The footsteps continued for a few more moments before stopping abruptly, leaving only silence in their wake. I could feel every pulse throb through my ears, with my heartbeat clearly on my chest. I tried to reason it away, probably just the building settling, but deep within me, I knew something more was going on.
