Once Upon a Black Kraken

  Part 8 | Part 10 As my seventh task was scratched and my recognition wandering was interrupted last time by a lighthouse “incident,” I continued to explore Bachman Asylum’s surroundings. There was an old shed around a hundred yards away. The door, as usual, squeaked when I pushed it. The floor did the same when I stepped on. Tried the single bulb in the ceiling. It didn’t work, of course. With my flashlight I distinguished gardening tools. Bullshit, on the boulder ground of this island there was no way to do any. A gas-powered electric generator hijacked my attention. It included a handwritten note held with tape: “Wing A.” With the hand truck that was on its side, I carried the device. Surprisingly, just outside of Wing A there was a flat enough area to place my recent discovery. It fitted like a glove. Connected the cable to the generator and back to the power outlet of Wing A, which turned out to be in the ceiling, which in turn forced me to return to the shed for the...

  Part 7 | Part 9 I don’t have any more tasks now. It took me three days to finish the library’s inventory. Already asked Alex to bring more fire extinguishers on his next groceries delivery trip. The seventh, and last, instruction is scratched beyond readability. Maybe, for once I could relax. Another thing I found in the records was that the trespasser’s guy on my first night here wasn’t the first “suicide.” In the late 1800s there was a lighthouse keeper who, after failing to light correctly the thing, caused a two-hundred people crew to crash into the rocks and sank; no survivors. Not even the keeper, who hung himself. After such gloomy story, I stepped out of the ruined building to get some fresh air. The Bachman Asylum has its own little graveyard. Like thirty yards away from the main building there is a small, rotten-wood-fenced lot, about twenty square feet with rocks, yellow grass and broken or tumbled gravestones. I was astonished they managed to bury someone the...