22 Dec Security Logs From a Haunted Asylum – Creepypasta
I don’t know how I ended up working here. I had ambitions, you know. I was going to be a writer. Instead I’m working the graveyard shift at an asylum.
But a lot of people have dreams in life that are left unfulfilled, I suppose. I should be happy they were hiring. Ever since the incident in the sub-basement, they’ve been having trouble keeping staff here, apparently. I guess minimum wage just isn’t enough for some people. For me, either, really. My first pay check was a bit of a shock. 600 bucks for two weeks of that? That was went through my head. I can barely afford rent and it seems like every day I’m putting my life in harm’s way for the sake of this hellish place.
I guess I should explain. See, people don’t believe me when I tell them how strange things have been getting at the old mental hospital. The place is over 150 years old, so I figured when I started that there had to be at least a couple ghosts wandering around. But there’s more than just a couple. And what’s the deal with the mysterious purple ooze leaking out from around the edges of the door to room 319? And why is there a black cat constantly roaming the hallway just ahead of me on my night patrols, and when I look back, I see I’m being pursued by same said black cat who is now back there and not in front of me? And why is the new doctor always coming in at 3AM and when I ask management about him they tell me there is no new doctor? He’s bald, seven feet tall and always carrying a crimson red suitcase, I’ll say. But that doesn’t help anything. People around here are just used to unexplainable things happening, I guess.
Oh, and did I mention the long-necked shadow man in the basement? And the semi transparent human forms that walk the halls down there with him? By the way, this isn’t just one or two phantom apparitions we’re talking about. It’s like a nightclub down there. And by that I mean they’re always dancing and blasting that awful big band music. It’s the worst.
I figured I would post a copy of my rambling patrol log so people could judge for themselves. Nobody else reads the damn things, anyways. Who knows, maybe I’m the one going crazy and I should be locked up here myself. You tell me.
2300: Report received from Steve, evening shift guard. Of note – the twins were back again – two identical siblings with sharp teeth and beady red eyes. Not to mention no parental supervision. They made off with a code blue cart, as well as several IV-start kits and three more impervious chemotherapy isolation gowns. Still no clear pattern or motives for this string of thefts.
2315: Foot patrol – Found the decapitated heads of thirty seven rats in the basement arranged carefully on the floor. Appeared to be spelling a message, written in the dead vermin, but writer noticed this too late and had already cleaned most of them up. Unsure what message was saying. It’s probably nothing, though.
2330: Writer called to investigate loud music being played in the auditorium. The space was found to be inhabited by several hundred semi-transparent forms who appeared to be engaged in a massive ghost orgy. Attempts to make contact to persuade said phantoms to lower the volume of their terrible music were greeted with hostility and threats of bodily possession, so writer chose to withdraw from the situation, citing personal safety. The patients will just have to deal with the noise.
2345: Century Manor front door found to be ajar once again. This is the third time this week, despite the fact that there are padlocks and deadbolts keeping it shut. Writer would like to believe it’s just crack-heads again, were it not for the little girl up in the window smiling creepily with pale blue glowing eyes. Perhaps she got a key for the place somehow. Maintenance is going to have to change the locks again.
0015: Relief for E3 guard break. Ramone, the other guard, is reporting that his security booth is causing him to feel increasingly claustrophobic. Writer notices that the room appears noticeably smaller than previously. A steady grinding noise is also present and difficult to ignore, causing fillings in writer’s teeth to fall out.
0045: Ramone reluctantly returns from his break, saying the room had shrunk by several feet just this week, causing him to move everything to the now-crowded center of the room. Work order filled out by writer and left in drop-box outside basement level maintenance office as per protocol.
0145: Report received of a man standing in the middle of the baseball field near Century Manor. Writer responded to scene and found a faceless shadow-form with abnormally long neck, bulbous fingers, and scrawny skeleton arms but no other discernable features. Security hailed visitor and asked them to identify themselves, or to leave the property. Shadowy form stuck up middle finger of right hand and proceeded to walk through the chain link fence and into the trees beyond, exiting the property. Fence was found to be intact with no visible gaps on inspection.
0200: Code Yellow – missing patient reported. S.K. – patient from E3 High Security Forensic unit escaped by breaking exterior window of isolation room with his bare feet and then jumping from the high window into a nearby tree. Individual fled and ran into the parking lot. Staff reported code yellow, since patient is high risk for violent crimes. Usually they don’t even bother. None of us are going to look for him either, because nobody is paying me enough for that shit.
0230: Ramone insists on another break for the purposes of urination and overall sanity. Writer takes over access control duty for E3 in the somehow even smaller than before security booth. The grinding sound is now louder and writer notices that objects near the periphery of the room are half absorbed into the walls with no regard for physics or the laws of nature. Half of the security camera monitors are now gone and this may present a problem when it comes to identifying staff members for the purposes of access control. On-call maintenance supervisor notified by telephone and he stated he would be in soon to “see what he could do about the situation.”
0345: The access control booth is now the size of a small bathroom and Ramone is concerned about re-entering for his own safety. Site Administrator is called and orders given for Ramone to remain in his security booth until further instructions. Writer reluctantly leaves Ramone shaking with fear inside his booth and heads back downstairs to resume patrol duties.
0355: Squeaking sounds heard distantly in basement hallways during patrol. Hopefully that fucking clown with the meat hook isn’t back again.
0430: The twins are reported being seen again. They just made off with a dozen containers of bleach from the janitor’s supply closet which they loaded onto a stolen cleaning cart. Still no patterns or motives for this ongoing robbery spree. The youngsters always seem to disappear in the basement as if by magic.
0500: Found E3 escaped patient in the basement under the stairs, sucking his thumb, white as a ghost. He was saying something about the doctor, how the doctor with the red briefcase had taken his spirit. His hands were cold to the touch and he had lost all defiance. Writer led him up to the ward like a little lost child, holding his hand the whole way. Upon arrival to the unit, the doors opened automatically and there was no longer an access control booth at the entry point. Staff on the unit state they have no recollection of there ever having been an access control booth for the unit, and say there was never any security guard named Ramone who worked here. Strange. Did I imagine Ramone?
0600: Strange rustling noises noted above the security office on the main floor again. Likely squirrels. Adding pest control to the list of contractors needed once the budget allows for it. At least it’s not raccoons. I’ve heard some places have a real problem with those.
0630: Maintenance on-call supervisor arrives on site and says he doesn’t remember why he was supposed to be here at all. When asked about the existence of an access control booth for E3 he states he has no memory of that room and the thought of it gives him a headache. Writer is getting scared now. Writer thinks Ramone might be dead. Or there is the possibility writer imagined Ramone and is having a mental breakdown.
But the memories are so vivid. That could have been me up there. The way those walls were moving in, it was hypnotic, like you didn’t notice how close they were until they had already moved in another foot. Like trying to watch the movement of an hour hand on a clock, indiscernible but irrevocable and with constant forward progress.
0645: Shift change is rapidly approaching, thank goodness. It’s been a long night. Hopefully nothing else happens before day shift gets here.
0652: Code White – Violent Patient – called on F3. Writer responds and locates source of commotion towards back of unit. Patient T.L. is making paranoid accusatory statements about staff, saying that they are trying to lure him into the sub-basement to join a cannibal death cult that resides in a secret commune down there. Patient restrained with 5-point magnetic restraints and medications administered by RN. See incident report for further details.
0715: Shift change – or at least it’s supposed to be. The day shift guard’s name is David and he still hasn’t shown up yet.
0830: Still no sign of David. Time for another patrol. At least no more relieving Ramone for his pee breaks, that grinding noise was interminable.
0925: Writer must be overtired. Continually seeing a little girl with glowing blue eyes in the basement peeking from around corners and giggling. But then on investigation nobody is there.
0940: That fucking black cat is back. It just yacked up a hairball and took a piss on the floor which writer slipped on and hurt hip (See safety occurrence report). Just writing that made me feel old.
1030: Day shift guard finally arrives, saying he slept in. Report given and received by David – White Knight Security. Writer is trembling with terror and pain, leaving for the day with a bruised hip, PTSD, and less than a hundred bucks to show for it after taxes and deductions. And that’s including the overtime. If anyone from head office is reading this, maybe you’ll finally agree that I deserve a fucking raise.