Once Upon a Black Kraken

  Part 6 | Part 8 “6. Make an inventory of the library.” If my task list says so. In the ocean of wet, unorganized, and page-ripped documents of the library found a couple interesting things about this place. Turns out the fires on Wing C were something constant, almost happening twice a year. Multiple patients got burn or died due to the supposedly- supernatural lightning rod that was this area. Bullshit. Also, there were multiple notes from The Post stating the Asylum had been under scrutiny due to fiscal controversy. I read: “Due to massaging the figures of the private psychiatric Bachman Asylum, the institution has been retired from ‘N’ Family and, in addition to a fine, the installation will be run by the State now.” The government always takes everything. *** “So, the accused denied giving false information to the Company’s clients, stating that even if he had done it, he didn’t regret leaving (and I’m quoting here) ‘those rich fat bastards without the 0.01% of t...

  Part 5 | Part 7 As soon as Alex delivered me the gauss and ointment for the empty first aid kit, that I had ordered almost a month ago (if I may say so), I used them to take care of my arm’s burns until now only relieved by slightly cold water. Alex watched me as if I was a desperate, starving animal in a zoo. Pain prevents you from feeling humiliated or offended. “Hey, I was meaning to ask you…” he started. I nodded at him while mummifying my arms with the vendages. “Does the lighthouse still works?” “Not know. Never been there,” I answered. “Oh, well, Russel sent you this.” He extended his arm holding a note from the boss. It read: “Make sure to use the chain and lock to keep shut the Chappel. R.” I looked back at Alex, confused, as he dropped those provisions on the floor. What a coincidence those ones arrived almost immediately. *** They didn’t work. The chain had very small holes in its links. No matter how I tried to push through the sturdy lock, it j...

  Part 4 | Part 6 I couldn´t close the Chappel. After being thrown and smashed open the doors of the religious corner of the Bachman Asylum, it turns out I needed a key to lock the entrance as I am instructed to do by my tasks list. Searched for it on the janitor’s closet on Wing A. No light, no space, just cobwebs and old plastic containers with weird chemicals that I can smell even from outside the door. Those aren’t cleaning supplies. A mop fell and startled me a little. I got out. At the management office I was luckier. In the spacious, well illuminated, not broken windows (that’s new) space with a giant mahogany desk that appears hand carved, there was a cork mount with some keys hanging on the South wall. They were even marked. “Lighthouse,” “Chappel” and “Morgue.” The one below the “Morgue” sign was missing. No sweat. Just needed the Chappel one. Took it. Before leaving, I noticed there is a map of the building. Skimmed the places I already know by heart looking f...

Part 3 | Part 5  I contemplated the reappearing blood stain. Fuck it. I checked my task list. “2. Make sure all the fire extinguishers are operational and the first aid kit is complete.” I didn’t know we had a kit. After wandering through all Wings, except J (because shit no), I examined the four fire extinguishers. One had expired. I tried using it. Weird. It was empty. Knowing this place, I assumed that would be the case for the other three. It was. Will need to ask Alex (learned the name of the guy who delivers me the groceries) for replacements. I searched through the kitchen, cafeteria and every other place I thought of for the medical kit. Was in my office all along. Room made things go unnoticed. As good as if there hadn’t been one. Just some almost-tearing gauss and old ointment that must had lost all its healing properties years ago. Added this to the anti-inventory. *** “3. Always keep the Chappel close and lock.” Shit. It has been open for a couple of nights...

  Part 2 | Part 4 Hadn’t finished my job, so I went back to the cafeteria. The Canterville-ian blood stain was there again, as if I had never cleaned it before. Was pondering if I should try to clean it again or not, when I was interrupted by a toddler’s cry. Sounded like he was hearing his parents fighting all the way to the physical aggressions and R-rated name calling, and the kid could only weep noisily to make his parents upset and stop fighting between them to reprehend him. I followed the sound to an office on Wing A. The whining intensified. Seemed like the kid was getting more scared. Almost to horror levels. The office door had a small window which read “Dr. Weiss”. Peeked through it. As I feared, there was a little kid in there. Around four-years-old. Fetal position in the moldy wooden floor. Weird eighties-like clothes. Door was locked. “Hey, please open the door,” asked him as friendliest as I could. The boy blocked his ears with his hands. Fuck. Knocked ...