Halloween Story 2009 - the story

[Moderator]

The much anticipated SKMB Halloween 2009 fan-story collaboration will begin posting on Monday, October 5th, with a new addition each weekday. This will be the spot for the story and I will also be opening a thread for comments. Please be sure to post those in that thread so that the story will be able to be read without comment interruption. :smile2:

[Moderator]

Installment #1 by DarkWriter





Straightening her new nurses uniform as she looked at her reflection in the
double doors, Karen entered the Marysville Institution for the Criminally Insane.
Even though the hospital had been modernized and remodeled the outwardly
appearance had not changed over the years. She was looking forward to her first
day on the job, even though her boyfriend Kyle had spent the last week trying to
talk her out of it.

"You've heard the stories," he said, attempting one last time to discourage her.
"Terrible things happen there and I don't want them happening to you. It's bad
enough all of your patients are criminals."

"I'll be fine," she said, walking out the door. "Nothing's going to happen." Of
course, she had heard the stories, the mysterious deaths and disappearances, the
murders and suicides. She remembered hearing her parents talk when she was
younger; about a woman that had committed suicide after her ten-year-old son
disappeared from the hospital. According to her father, the young boy had been
playing in the common room, the same room in which two weeks later they found his
mother hanging. Her uncle believed the land had been cursed. However, her aunt
disagreed; the curse lay behind the locked door of the old common room.And she
should know she worked there, up until they sold it to the state. No one she
knew ever went in there, but she heard stories.

Built in 1889 the hospital functioned as most did in that era, the best they
could. There were discoveries being made in the medical field, unfortunately the
equipment and knowledge were earmarked for the large city hospitals. Eventually
it would trickle down, if the funds were there to pay for them. After a meeting
of the Marysville board, they decided to turn one floor of the hospital into a
mental ward for the state in order to procure the money needed. Providing care
for the mentally ill put before them a new set of problems, fortunately none that
could not be overcome. Until they admitted Jacob Miller, he was crazy with a
mean streak and an addiction to Laudanum and alcohol. Two days after they
secured him in his room, Jacob broke free. Using whatever sharp tools he could
find, he cut and slashed his way through the halls leaving a trail of blood, as
screams and moans filled the air.

By the time the sheriff responded with his deputies, the patients and staff lay
dead or dying. They found Jacob in the common room splattered with blood,
standing over three slaughtered nurses. There was to be no trial and no jury,
just an execution by firing squad, with seven of the eight shotguns present
making their mark. When the smoke cleared and their ears stopped ringing, the
men looked down upon the bloody pulp that had once been Jacob Miller.

Yes, Karen knew the stories but she did not have the luxury to pass on a job that
would pay off her school loans.

[Moderator]

Installment #2 by staropeace





As she walked from the entrance door to the visitors desk and staff offices, Karen noticed the early morning stillness of the place. The day outside was overcast with the promise of rain and the grey dullness tinted all the windows like a pox.

All was quiet and her footsteps appeared muffled as she headed towards the office of the head nurse. A security guard sat benignly in a chair to the right of the service desk whispering to the receptionist and paging through a Readers Digest.

Karen approached them solemnly, like a monk going to vespers. She smiled and addressed the tall matronly lady who sat behind the counter.

"Hello, my name is Karen?"

Inwardly, she cringed for making her short statement into a question. Why didn’t she just write introverted doormat on her back and be done with the whole thing. Maybe get a job at Boxie Bubbles down the street and sell smoothies instead.

The lady gazed up from her keyboard and smiled at Karen with a warmness that melted all the tension away and seemed to brighten the drabness like a splash of sunshine.

"Karen Chartrand, is it? The new staff member, I do believe. Your mom lived right up the street from me and I remember you as a young whippersnapper, You liked to steal my crabapples." She laughed at Karen's confused expression while grasping her hand and squeezing it .

"Welcome to our happy home. Our friendly sanitarium. Every family should have one, "she said to Karen and winked.

"On my gosh! You are Ms Sally. I remember now though it has been ages since we lived on Barr Road!" Karen said as the built up tension of first day jitters left her body and hid in some corner with the shadows.

The lady waved a hand majestically around the main lobby and Karen noticed, for the first time, the richness of the hard walnut paneled walls and the honeyed texture of the hardwood floor. Here and there an alcove was converted into intimate resting nooks with easy chairs and end tables. Slightly faded area rugs buffered any starkness and added warmth.

"It is a little cold and uninviting this early in the morning, Karen. That is just the way with old huge buildings though. It is quiet cozy once the lights are no longer muted" She informed her as she picked up her phone and pressed an extension. "Angela, the head nurse came on duty a ‘lil while ago. I will tell her you are here and she will come out to fetch you. She is a lovely girl," Sally informed her.

[Moderator]

Installment #3 by kisun

The headache began when they got to the third floor.

Karen was following Angela, who led her through the hospital, acknowledging the important aspects of working at this particular hospital on the way.
"Don’t forget that you’re workin' with psychos and lunatics. They ain't normal, and we don’t treat 'em normal. Don’t go forgetting that now, you hear?"
"Yes ma’am," Karen said. She didn’t know why she called Angela ma’am; she could not be much older than herself. In fact, Angela didn’t look a day over fifteen. Karen scurried the thought from her mind, not wanting to worry about little oddities in such a strange setting.

Karen was looking at the doors on her left as Angela walked and talked about how you aren't supposed to give silverware to the patients. They passed room 312, room 314 (in which she heard crying), but where room 316 should be there were bricks. Fat, grey bricks sealed together which covered the entire door. They looked old; Karen thought they could even be described as ancient. She stopped and stared at the bricks for a few moments. She then picked up the pace to catch up with Angela, who was still chatting away. As she moved her legs in an erratic and anxious rhythm she started to hear a very faint whine. It grew and grew in intensity. Permeating the air like a toxin, it attacked Karen’s ears. She looked to her left and saw room 318.

Karen could hear cries and whimpers through the door, and with this new series of noises she could no longer hear the abusive ringing. The vocalization of despair she heard was interrupted when Angela yelled at her. “Get away from that door!”
Karen was unresponsive. Angela rushed over to her and pulled her away from the door. Karen hadn’t even noticed that she had walked right up to the door and put her hand on numbers in the middle. When she looked away from the door, Angela saw that her eyes were transfixed and dilated.
Not another one, Angela thought. But almost instantly after she thought this Karen shook her head and her eyes cleared. Thank God, I can’t deal with another person’s sanity on my hands, Angela thought with a sigh of relief.
Angela grabbed Karen’s arm and led her down the hall. As they passed room 320, Karen saw that this door too was bricked off. She dismissed this occurrence from her mind in favor of another, Boy, do I need a cigarette. She hadn’t smoked since her last college party, but now a good drag seemed like the perfect treat. Angela led her down the stairs, seeing as how the elevators were broken.

“Did you give anybody the passwords to this hospital’s computer system, Karen?” the receptionist asked when Karen and Angela arrived.
“No, why?”
“Well, you have a message, and it’s a closed network.”
“Oh, well…what’s it say?”
“See for yourself,” the receptionist said.
Karen looked at the monitor, and opened the message. The message read; “Karen, how ready are you to die?"

Yeah, a cigarette sounded pretty good right now.

[Moderator]

Installment #4 by Matt

Karen followed Angela as she stepped out into a concrete alcove that served as some kind of delivery entrance for the Institution. Stark gray stairs rose in front of her to ground level and fresh air, the odor in the small space reminded her of rotten bananas and what she had always thought madness would smell like. The floor on the landing featured a dirty drain in its center; she could hear thick gurgling deep inside.

The message at the receptionist station had scared her until she realized that people who work in an insane asylum are probably a little crazy themselves. A cute prank to pull on the new girl…she hoped that she had not given them the satisfaction of scaring her.

“If you are going to smoke, you have to do it here.” Angela said as she climbed the first few steps blocking Karen’s only view of a world without the smell of things rotting. “State Law says you can’t even do it here but people sneak them anyway”.

Karen noticed a bit of annoyance in Angela’s voice but could not understand its source. She rummaged in her purse for the crushed pack of lights she always kept at the bottom. Her need to drag it out had diminished over the last few months but days like today always had a way of bringing it back.

“Would you like one?” Karen asked Angela holding one of the last two bent smokes out to her. Angela made a face and stepped back.

“God no! I don’t smoke those things, might as well just put a gun in my mouth. I only came out here because you mentioned you wanted one.” Just as she finished talking, Angela reached into the pocket of her dress and produced a pouch. She opened it swiftly and drew out what looked to Karen like a half a plantation of tobacco. Angela sniffed at it for just a moment and then tucked the wad between her cheek and gum. It was just a few moments before Angela was spitting brown liquid into the drain at Karen’s feet, she tried not to vomit.

Instead, Karen occupied her mind thinking about the screams she heard behind the door to room 318. Simple echoes, that’s all it was. Old house echoes.

Just then she realized Angela was staring at her.

“You heard exactly what you think you did and my best advice would be to stay away from that door. I mean, as long as you want to keep your marbles that is. It is kind of like a Pandora ’s Box, which is why your ‘Ms. Sally’ didn’t warn, you. She always assumes people will ignore it but that hasn’t changed the fact that 3 out of 5 people who start working here end up as patients.”

“That is impossible!” Karen said a bit to loudly in the enclosed space. She had not overlooked the way Angela had said ‘Ms. Sally’, the dripping sarcasm was very close to outright contempt.

[Moderator]

Installment #5-by sam peebles

Karen pitched her half-finished cigarette down the drain. It had been stale and left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue, not nearly as pleasurable or calming as she remembered it being. Her headache was worse. She wanted to spit, but didn't dare on her first day with Angela hovering next to her.

Angela shot a stream of brown chew from between her teeth with practiced ease.

"Shall we continue the tour?" she asked.

Karen followed her back inside, through a door and into a stairwell. They descended three flights and exited into a dimly lit corridor.

"Marysville Institution has been made more contemporary," Angela droned as she started down the hallway, "but this floor has, remarkably, been left almost completely untouched. Sure, there's been electricians-" she pointed to a recessed outlet in the ceiling that housed a naked light bulb "-and other renovations, but this here is as original as the facility gets. Same floor, same woodwork, same instruments as the when we first opened our doors."

Karen was barely listening. She was trying to do the math in her head. They had gone down three levels. That placed them (if she was correct) below the basement.

Underground.

"Where are we?" Karen asked.

"In the sub basement. Kind of creepy, isn't it? There are miles of tunnels down here, leading across the grounds to the minimum security houses--those are closed now."

"What's here?" Karen said, nodding to the doors that lined the hall.

A smile, sharp enough to cut class, stitched itself on Angela's narrow face.

"Treatment rooms."

Angela fished in her pockets and produced a gigantic key ring like some castle dungeon master. She selected one of the ancient brass keys and fitted it in the lock of the closest door.

How does she know if it's the right one? Karen wondered. They're not even labeled.

The door swung open, rusted hinges squealing, motes of dust stirred up by the draft. Karen had the strange sensation she had been here before. She expected a blank wall of brick and mortar, like room 316, or a giant computer screen, pulsating and glaringly bright in the dank sub basement, pushing out
through the jamb and predicting her death in three foot font.

The room beyond was pitch black. Angela flicked the switch. No light turned on.

"What's in there?" Karen whispered. She realized she had been holding her breath and let it out in a shaky exhale.

"Lobotomy Theater."

[Moderator]

Installment #6-PatriciaA

Angela Tak RN, jiggled the switch until the fluorescent bulb sizzled to life. She stepped over to a tray on the stainless steel counter. "These," Angela gestured doing her best Vanna White impression, "are the lobotomy instruments. Too bad they stopped doing the procedure back in the '70's and picked up an instrument that looked like an ice pick.

"One poke, a tap and a wiggle into each of the eye sockets and within 10 minutes, presto change-o, come in a lion and leave a lamb."
Angela placed the pick back onto the tray and selected a small mallet, and to Karen's utter astonishment began to sing, "Bang, bang Maxwell's silver hammer."

Karen interrupted her, standing akimbo and sounding as frustrated as she was. "Stop, I know everything about lobotomy I want to. I hope you're trying to be funny, or trying scare me, because you can't be serious?"

Angela feigned looking hurt then continued to sing, "Came down upon her head" and put the instrument back with great care.
She took a moment to admire the atmosphere of the room then said in an impatient tone,
"Oh come on Florence Nightingale, lighten up, will you?" She gestured toward the the door and they left. Karen hadn't replied, but led the way out without hesitation.

"Tour's over for today" Angela stated as they headed back up the hall. "You're not a team player are you Karen? I get that from you. You'll either play nice or you'll go home with no job, and that's not zesty."

"God I can't get fired on my first day" Karen silently scolded herself, and she couldn't quit now, not yet, no matter how bad she wanted to.
She'd start looking for something else right away, she wasn't going to stick around here any longer than she had to.

"A nurse graduating with honors from Miskotonic U could work anywhere in the universe," she told herself.

She was going to call The Client's Rights Commission before it was over with as well. She could only imagine all the abuses that must go on here with people like Angela in charge.
A tiny voice from somewhere in her head whispered "unspeakable."
A shiver crept up her spine.

Karen mustered a contrite smile, " I've got a nasty case of first day jitters Angela. This place makes me jumpy, sorry. I'll relax, promise."
"Pinky swear?" Angela replied, rolled her eyes and took the lead back up the hallway.

Karen had an hour for lunch soon, and knew what she'd do with it. First some aspirin for the headache, second she'd shake these willies so she could think straight.
Then she'd figure out how to get into room 318.

The boiled eggs she brought for lunch seemed particularly unappetizing. She brought a dozen to share with her fellow travelers at the noon twelve-step meeting she'd planned to attend, she was looking forward to telling everyone about her new job, and confessing to the back-slid cigarette, but plans change.

She fondled the newly issued set of keys in her sweater pocket and concentrated on room 318.

[Moderator]

Installment #7-aptpupil

The underground corridor possessed some very strange acoustics. Karen found herself out of step with the woman walking ahead of her, and the two distinct sets of footsteps echoed eerily from the walls of the antiquated structure, bouncing back at her as if performing a demonic fugue. She adjusted her stride, synchronizing it with that of her tormentor, and anxiously stared into the distance, eagerly anticipating the approaching stairwell. She felt desperate to put her first trip to the sub-basement far behind her.

Despite her distaste for her surroundings, however, Karen was powerless to resist the urge to spin around and take one last look as the long, straight corridor finally came to an end. Initially, she blamed the inadequate lighting for the strange mixture of brightness and shadow that assaulted her eyes, but it didn’t take her long to recall that the entire length of the corridor had been uniformly lit when she had first entered it. She tried to focus on an ill-defined section in the distance, which appeared to be mist-shrouded. She strained her eyes to gain a clear image, and recoiled in terror as two figures, ostensibly human in form, and one significantly larger than the other, shuffled from one wall across to the other, seeming to vanish into the ether.

Karen’s knees buckled in trepidation, and she reached out with her left hand, pressing it against the cold, damp wall, as her whole panorama spun vertiginously. In disbelief, she watched as the sides of the corridor began to pulse, as if powered by some malevolent satanic heartbeat. She closed her eyes tightly, simultaneously urging herself to remain calm, then nervously opened them again to find that everything had returned to its original, more palatable, appearance. She sought reassurance from her companion.

“Angela,” she enquired tentatively, “I would guess that a place like this could play some pretty frightening tricks on your mind, huh?”

The question was met with an ominous silence. She slowly turned around to where she hoped Angela Tak would be standing, but before her eyes were even able to confirm the truth, her mind had anticipated the correct answer. Karen Chartrand was completely and utterly alone, and at the mercy of whatever dark forces roamed the musty corridors within which she now found herself stranded. Common sense, and every ounce of self-preservation in her body, implored her to move straight to the stairwell, and to climb those steps as quickly as was humanly possible, without even contemplating a second glance. Something more sinister and insidious, however, compelled her to stay.

Karen inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and inched back along the corridor to where she had seen the two figures a few moments earlier. She arrived there to find an inexplicable chill in the air, and noticed an old, heavy door, recessed so deeply within the wall, that it would have been easy to miss. Its wooden veneer was covered in a layer of condensation. Karen placed the palm of her left hand against the door and rubbed, observing with growing dread as the number 318 was revealed…

[Moderator]

Installment #8-Cola

‘You left her down there didn’t you?’

‘So what if I did? She’s a newbie, needs to be shown the ugly truth of what this place is’

Sally Barchiel had walked to the water cooler to confront Angela as she came down the small corridor and into the office at the rear of the foyer.

‘You forget who she is Angela, no common slip of a girl from the street this one – you must be careful’

The room temperature slipped down a few notches. Angela’s lips pealed back from her teeth and for a moment the beautiful youthful features on her face shimmered, mottled grey patches visible under her transparent skin. ‘Don’t warn me Ms Sally’ she hissed. ‘All I did was leave her down there, if she is as unique as you say then she will have no problem working her way back’ Sally was only peripherally aware of Angela’s tirade, being preoccupied instead with Karen’s well being; until a small strong hand grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall. She laughed, a beautiful light, feathery sound. ‘You don’t scare me, no matter how much you want to - now release me’

Unable to do anything else Angela let go and stalked around the room trying to get her boiling, blinding rage under control.

Who was this girl? From whom did she come from and more importantly why was Sally so invested in her? She couldn’t change things around here!! No one could – that’s right no one could - many had tried and many, many had failed. Miss Chartrand would soon be joining this number! No one can change what has been for so, so long….

It was an old mantra, as close to meditation as Angela could get and it calmed her visibly. She was once again the beautiful, flawless youth that met Karen that morning. She turned to face Sally; maybe to gloat and tease her some more only to see her adversary had left the office. Angela walked out into the reception area and saw only Louise. A slim shouldered pretty girl, she had been working here for 15 years or more. A reliable worker - one who knows when to keep her pert mouth shut anyway.

‘Oh! Ms Tak? Karen Chartrand, the new girl? Her boyfriend Kyle phoned – wanted to know if she could ring him back seemed kinda urgent’

‘Did he indeed? Well, I will be sure to pass that message on as soon as I catch up with her. By the way did you see which way Sally went?’

‘She didn’t pass this way Ms Tak, sorry’ the phone began to ring and Louise got on with her work.

Feeling better than she had in a long time Angela walked away, confident that things would work out in her favour. She grinned, and this grin held no humour, many patients knew that expression and when they saw it they cowered with fear. Hhmm.. I wonder how the newbie is getting on…

[Moderator]

Installment #9-Natjen24

‘This can’t be true. This isn’t where 318 should be’, Karen kept repeating with a soft childlike voice while she slowly pulled her fingers back from the old oak door.
She stood there, eyes locked onto that number which seemed to haunt her every thought, unable to move, unable to think.
She felt nauseated by both the smell and dampness of this underground floor and the queasiness of her first day, with the added touch of Angela’s aggravating behaviour, but despite feeling sick she didn’t want to move, not even if she would be able to get through to her malfunctioning grey matter.
Something compelled her to stay and let life pass her by. She felt the presence of it, right behind that thick wooden barrier.
All of a sudden and in one swift motion, the door flung open without even the slightest creak.
Overcome by surprise, Karen shook off her apathetic state and took an involuntary step backwards, while continuously staring into the dusky room in front of her. She couldn’t see much, the room was full of shadows.
She wanted to see more, but her feet lingered on the thought of physically being closer to whatever had been hiding behind that door.
‘Curiosity killed the cat..’ she thought absentmindedly, and took her first step towards the door. She looked both ways, as if to be sure no one was there. Her eyes soon came back to what her mind fixated on.
‘..but satisfaction brought it back.’ She entered the room and the door slid silently shut behind her. Karen didn’t notice.
She looked around while her eyes were adjusting to the shallow lighting. The room was narrow, but several yards long. In the back she could distinguish a little dais, maybe a foot high. Karen took a few steps to the side, gravel grinding under the soles of her shoes, the floor consisting of nothing more than plain concrete, apparently in a grave state of deterioration.
Her fingertips touched the wall lightly as she progressed to the front, as if to be sure she wouldn’t get lost. She felt the ruggedness of the bricks and trailed her fingers along the seams while slowly moving forward.
She could distinct more with every step she took towards the other end of the room.
She saw an operating table, in the middle of the small platform, with a nurses cart beside it. On top of the cart she could see something glimmering in the pale light.
As she squinted her eyes to see more, she realized the bed wasn’t vacant.
Her heart started beating wildly, as fear was getting his grip on her. She was holding in her breath, unwilling to believe what she saw. As she kept staring at the person strapped onto the bed, someone else came into view. Karen saw the young woman go over to the cart and pick up the implement she was shown earlier that day.

[Moderator]

Installment #10-BeowulfTX

“And how are we feeling, now, Mr. Miller?” The young woman in the crisp white uniform was intently focused on the probe and her back turned to her patient. From the table a garbled sigh or moan issued in response. “Yes well, we always play so much nicer after our medicine, don’t we?” She replaced the thin steel rod, and selected instead a syringe with an impossibly long needle. “You know of course we can’t just go on indulging you, it’s wasteful. And it sets a bad example for the other patients, who are trying so very hard to make progress. Lets see if we can’t make a little ourselves today, shall we?” A tight smile with pursed lips lit on her face while her left hand reached into her hip pocket and produced a dark brown bottle.

Deftly, she uncorked the large vial with one hand and inserted the proboscis of the syringe with the other and extracted a very portion with her fore and mid finger inserted into the glinting rings at the base, while her thumb, in its own ring, slowly extended. Still smiling, she removed her fingers from the rings and placed it on the cart. The bottle disappeared back into her pocket, and she whistled as she rolled the cart to the side of the table and bent over its occupant. “Now, just once more, my dear, and then we are going to make everything all better. Oh, yes, we are.”

It looked to Karen as though the nurse was bent over her patients face, near the ear, and Karen’s mouth dropped open and the nurse slid a dental drill from a housing of tools permanently placed by the side of the table. Karen was thankful for the whine of the drill at high velocity and which might conceal the trip hammering of her heart.

The whine of the drill deepened, became a course grinding sound, and the air around her went from stuffy to something much less pleasant. On the table the legs of the patient strained against the straps, and all the toes on the left foot that she could see extended, until the figure in white stood up straight and grabbed for an extending lamp from above the bed and flipped the switch focusing the light on the area behind the ear. Then she grabbed the syringe. “There’s a good boy. Open wide and say ahhh now.”

Now the nurse inserted the syringe into the cavity the drill had produced chanting, in a sing song voice, “The shot, the shot, the shot goes to the spot”, and then giggled.

[Moderator]

#11-Tblack

.... Then she plunged the needle into Mr .Miller’s back molar deeply enough that it surely had to have pierced his jawbone. Karen watched as the tip protruded through the right side of his neck expressing the brown syrupy pain killer that poor Mr. Miller would never benefit from. The nurse simply left the syringe wobbling there & turned her attentions instead to the instrument tray. "Now these should work quite nicely my dear, she cooed, as she chose an elongated pair of hemostats & what looked like a well rusted Bale Hook. She clamped across Miller’s waving tongue & pulled it upwards as she swung the hook down skewering it out through his cheek, shattering his canine teeth along the way.
Karen lunged forward as her nurse’s training urged her to do and made a grab at Nursie-Poo’s cutting arm in an attempt to stop all this madness. She came away holding nothing but thin air as she stumbled across the room. ‘Can this really be happening?’ she thought while she stared in disbelief at her empty hands, ‘ Or has it already taken place in some other time?’ Perhaps, as Sally Barchiel had foreseen, she was meant to be only an observer here, another unwilling participant as helpless as the patient on the table.
Miller moaned in agreement & continued to convulse on the table while his loverly young surgeon lilted into song, "Cut-Cut here– Snip-Snip there– and a little bit Tra-La-La... That’s the way we’ll trim your tongue in The Marysville Moonlight Spa!" Mr. Miller seemed to be attempting to join the merriment but his singing voice had apparently left him. His Nurse Practitioner now held his entire tongue grasped in her right hand. She was preparing to go Tonsil Diving with the baling hook in her left. Her pristine uniform was no longer crisp & white. She was completely drenched in Miller’s blood & coagulating droplets hung from her hair & smiling face. "Sponge!",she shouted, and an equally overly entertaining orderly leaned forward & mopped her brow.
"How much pain can a Miller-Man stand?",she asked the attentive theater, as she ripped loose a ripe, juicy tonsil, "We shall soon see, my dearest man, we shall soon enough see!" With that she drove her hook down through Miller’s eyeball and studded his cheekbone to his ear. She inserted the tonsil into the waiting eye socket & chuckled softly. "Yessss my precious! That should do quite nicely indeed!" Viscous yellow fluid trickled down the still quivering syringe & merged with the pool of useless pain killer.
Karen regurgitated hardboiled egg fragments across the operating table & Miller’s open mouth. They floated like miniature icebergs in the rivers of blood.
That part was real enough!
"Yet another successful surgical procedure!", proclaimed Nurse, "Mr. Miller? You’ll be happy to learn that our scheduled Lobotomy will no longer be required today! Wasteful Dear Man... Simply Wasteful...
“Come back & see me later! *Ding* Next patient please! Send in another victim of Industrial Disease!! "
Jesus wept.
Karen Chartrand R.N. fainted.

[Moderator]

#12-AngelZ

“Karen. Karen. Wake up Karen.” Karen felt someone tapping her arm. She forced her eyes opened and tried to focus on the voice. “I think she’s coming to. Karen, are you okay?”

“What happened?” asked Karen still in a daze.

“Thank goodness you’re awake Karen. I was beginning to think that we had to look for a replacement already,” added Angela with a chuckle. “I searched for you and found you in a heap on the floor in front of 318. You must have bumped into something very hard because you had the biggest goose egg on your forehead.”

Karen started to get up and shook her head and felt an incredible jolting pain that forced her to lie down on the bed. She held her head and moaned.

“You best better lay down for a while,” warned Angela. She then pressed the ice compress on Karen’s forehead.

“Someone has to go and stop what’s going on in room 318 right now. Please. There is a man in that room that is being tortured and mutilated,” pleaded Karen.

“Lordy, lordy, lordy!” said Angela. “You haven’t been here more than a few hours and already this place is getting to you. It was probably just a bad dream you had after you knocked yourself out. Anyway that room 318 has been bolted shut for years and I don’t even know of anyone who would have the keys to that room.

“No, you don’t understand. I saw it with my OWN eyes! Go to room 318 and you will see. There is a man being tortured by a nurse.” As her vision started to come into focus, she saw a round-faced woman with Betty Davis eyes off to the left of Angela. This was the nurse in room 318. This woman was staring at Karen and had a cruel smile on her face as though she knew Karen’s very thought. But where was her bloody uniform and her hair that was unkempt in that dark monstrous room? Her uniform was now perfectly crisp and her hair was now combed neatly into a bun under a nurse’s cap.

“Now, don’t you worry your purty little head, Karen. Mrs. Hatchett and I are gonna take real good care of you. We’re really good at taking care of patients around here. Those words sent a chill down Karen’s spine, making her head throb even harder. She thought to herself, what have I gotten myself into? Why didn’t I listen to Kyle?

Karen tried to get up again and then she realized to her horror that she was restrained to the bed like Mr. Miller. “Why I am I tied up?” cried out Karen in utter disbelief.

“You need to rest dear,” cooed Angela and she left it at that.

Karen began to pull on the restraints with all her might. “I WANT OUT OF HERE!” shouted Karen in desperation. She then proceeded to cry out “HELP, HELP, HELP!”

Then Karen saw out the corner of her eye, Mrs. Hatchett approaching with not only a smile but a needle. “Now this won’t hurt of bit, dear…”

[Moderator]

#13-Dana Jean

Kyle hadn’t shared Karen’s enthusiasm the day she came home and announced her lucky break. A job! She had finally found a job in a town where stores were hiring people to stand on corners holding cardboard signs announcing their Going-Out-of-Business prices. She had playfully hugged him and twirled around with happy giggles, stepping on the cat at least once by the sound of the loud, yowling protest.

Everyone knew about the trouble at the sterile, foreboding nutbin located out on the edge of nowhere surrounded by miles of dense forest. Without any fanfare, the heavy gray doors had been closed and barred on the condemned building and had remained so for years. Everyone had heard the rumors that the place was remodeling, but not one person from town had managed to gain employment on a crew. And, as far as Kyle and everyone else he talked to knew, no one had managed to be hired to work inside the building once complete. When pressed for answers on how she managed to be the only townie hired, Karen could offer none.

While standing in line at the bank, a “quiet woman who had the saddest face I’ve ever seen” (as Karen described her) named Patty Duncan struck up a conversation with Karen. One topic led into another as they slowly inched their way to the teller’s window. By the time she presented her withdrawal slip, Karen secured a position at the hospital without having to step one foot inside its depressing doors. “Babe. They would need more employees. Why no advertising in town? Hell, everyone is looking for work. She hired you right there in line at the bank? Seriously?” Kyle couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. Karen’s comeback didn’t allay his growing concerns. “They more than likely just wanted to keep things on the down-low, you know, with all those horrible killings. Besides, they probably transferred their own workers in from other hospitals. I was just in the right place at the right time and I talked to the lady in charge of hiring.” Karen laughed. “Come on, celebrate with me. This is a good thing.” She disappeared into the bedroom with just the shyest of grins. He let it drop and followed her.

Later, alone at his computer, Kyle posed a question to the Twitterverse: What do you know about the Marysville Institute for the Criminally Insane? Tweets, in one hundred and forty characters or less, bombarded him rapid fire. Most were just the same tired urban legends heard in every home in town. But, there was that one….

Kyle hit re-dial on his cell. His unease growing, he really needed to hear Karen’s voice. There was no way Patty Duncan could have given Karen a job because, one dreary cold autumn day years ago, Patty Duncan, trapped in overwhelming despair, had put her pretty but sad face through the bed sheet noose hanging from the rafters of the Marysville common room and kicked the chair away

[Moderator]

#14--Kim L.

The phone on the wall behind Karen rang loudly, startling Angela, who backed into Mrs. Hatchett. The syringe clattered to the floor and rolled in to the corner. Neither nurse moved to retrieve it. Karen waited for the phone to ring again and when it did not, she twisted her head to look at it, disappointed but somehow not surprised to see that the wall was blank.
“There’s no phone in here,” someone snapped. “Pick up that syringe.”
Karen faced forward again and her heart sank. A third nurse was standing in the doorway, her face unreadable in the shadows, and judging by the way Angela and Mrs. Hatchett were racing each other to the corner, she outranked everyone in the room.
“Nurse Tak. Nurse Hatchett. Your patient is waiting.” Angela’s face was somewhat flushed. She had picked up the syringe and was holding it gingerly, as if it contained poison. Well, it does, doesn’t it? Karen thought, fighting a wild impulse to giggle. Angela, seeming to read her mind, glared at her and Karen shrank back. Her face wasn’t just flushed it was…changing colors. No, not colors. Something underneath was shifting. She gasped and Angela started toward her.
“Nurse Tak!” The authoritative voice rang out again and Angela turned away. The shadowy nurse glided down the hallway and her juniors followed at a trot.
“Wait! Don’t leave me here!” She twisted against the restraints and shouted, but the hallway was quite empty. Never thought I’d be asking those two for help, she thought. What now? Chew through the restraints? She forced herself to think calmly. Assess the situation. Looking around, she saw the room contained nothing but the bed. No window, no table, no chairs. Certainly no phone. And no clock—no way to tell how long she’d been in here or if enough time had passed that someone might wonder where she was. Wasn’t it time for shift change?
Down the hallway, a door banged, and someone screamed. Must be that lucky patient. A cigarette would taste so good right now. So would a beer. A robust porter or a dark stout. She remembered chilly autumn nights at the brewpub with her friends, celebrating the end of classes for the week. Swapping war stories, laughing at their instructors and fellow students. Another round of beers. And another. Can’t go down that path, she thought, as memories tugged at her. Remember Claire. Dropped out of school; haunted by two DUIs, no hope of a license. Still she longed for a taste of a creamy beer, or the bite of a cigarette at the back of her throat. It would be good to talk to her sponsor at the meeting tonight. And how are you going to get to the meeting?
“Help! Please! Help me!” She twisted against the restraints and screamed again.
The phone rang.

[Moderator]

#15-balrog21

The phone seemed to ring for hours and each ring echoed in her mind like fingernails running across a chalkboard. Her head hurt and the compress wasn’t working a bit. She calmed herself a bit after the phone quit ringing, ‘no need to go into hysterics right now’, she said.
She looked around the room again trying to find anything that would aid in her escape. As her eyes scanned the room she saw a tiny hole in the wall. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? It was right there to the right of her vision. She blinked again to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. It was there, but had it grown in size? She thought it might have. Karen moved against the tight restraints and they bit into her hands and legs and she winced at the pain, but she got a better look at the hole in the wall that was indeed growing in size. She hadn’t imagined it. It was now the size of a baseball and growing each second.
Tiny beads of sweat rolled off her head and into her eyes, the salt burning them adding to her pain and discomfort. Had she enlisted into a nightmare? Her head swam with questions and fear. How would she escape? What would happen if the two nurses came back, especially the one who was whispery shadows?
Karen tried again at the restraints, they held firm, but didn’t they give just a little? ‘Maybe it’s the sweat’, and she pulled at them again. They did give if only an inch, at least it was something for her to focus on. She lay back down and twisted her wrists back and forth. The restraints were loosening. Karen moved her hands faster and the breath from her mouth was short gasping bursts as mild panic eased over her body like a gentle summer breeze.
She had to get out of the room. If the nurses returned God knows what they would do to her. She could only imagine some unspeakable horror that would be done to her. Her fright and fear played to her advantage, the more she panicked the sweatier and slippery the restraints became. ‘I just might escape’, she kept telling herself. She glanced at the hole again while her wrists twisted back and forth like maracas played by a juiced up musician.
What she saw made her still. The hole was now halfway up to the ceiling and it was longer than it was wide. Something was coming through. The fluorescent lights above strobed bathing the room in flashes of darks and lights which matched its color. She tried to scream but couldn’t. Her eyes adjusted and she saw what appeared to be a face straight out of the black pit. Its elongated features and cold black eyes were menacing and twisted in anguish.
It spoke to her in a cold soulless voice, “Welcome home, Karen. You won’t escape this time.”
Karen screamed and fell into blackness.

[Moderator]

#16-FlakeNoir


A familiar sensation followed her down. Fighting the enveloping black, recognition slowly came to the surface. Oh Sweet Jesus, I'm having a panic attack.

Karen had been plagued by these for most of her adolescent life. She had hoped they would resolve themselves once she was grown and living away from home. So far that hadn’t happened.
Squeezing her eyes shut tight she began the internal mantra that would push back the fear and enable her to breathe again.

Love and light
Hold me tight
Keep me safe
Hold back the night
Now I pray to those that hear
Protect me please
Erase my fear.

Karen lay motionless, straining to pick up any sound at all. Though she was mostly sure that being strapped to this bed had induced a major anxiety attack - she wasn't completely sure.

Her breathing had slowed enough that she felt certain her ears weren’t tricking her. There was nobody else in the room. Gingerly she turned her head to the right and opened her eyes. The hole in the wall had almost reached the ceiling! Karen gasped and quickly shut them again.

"This is bullshit!" she told herself angrily, and then took another look. There was no hole; just an overwrought mind and nerves strung piano-wire tight.

Those freaks will be back any minute now! Thought Karen and she began to twist her wrists viciously against their restraints. She could feel the left one freeing up and pulled hard; ignoring the pain as skin scraped loose and the blood began to flow. The mix of sweat and blood was enough for her to slip the hand free.

Making short work of the straps holding the remaining wrist and her ankles, she threw anxious glances toward the door; expecting the nurses to return at any moment. Within minutes Karen was up and off the bed.

Something caught her attention just as she was opening the door to leave; there was a faint line in the cement running up the wall - right where her hallucination had taken place. Frowning, she placed her hand on the wall and drew it back sharply. The wall was burning hot!

"OMG... Mr. Boogie-Man - perhaps you're not just living in my head then?" Karen pulled open the door to room 318 and slipped out into the corridor. Remembering the tunnels and where they lead to, she thought her best chance at escape would be to head toward the minimum security houses that Angela had mentioned earlier.

With her mind warring over what was real and what was imagined, Karen pulled her cell from her jeans pocket and prayed to anyone listening that there'd be service bars this far underground. There were two bars, might just be enough. She dialled their home number and willed Kyle to answer.

"Hello?"
"Oh thank God, Kyle it's me..."

The phone cut out, the battery was dead. Karen cursed herself for not recharging it the night before and began to run down a tunnel hoping she was heading in the right direction...

[Moderator]

#17-Perse Jr.

On the couch, Kyle woke up with a jolt at the sound of his phone ringing. He grabbed it off the coffee table, flipped it open and said, “Hello?...Hello?” As he shut the phone, annoyed his nap was interrupted, he saw the caller identification read “Private Number.” Assuming the caller had the wrong number, his thoughts turned to Karen and her new job. He was uneasy about her working at such a notorious place, but he admired her determination to give it a try.

An accomplished chef, he planned to make a gourmet dinner to celebrate her first day on the job. If he didn’t get moving, however, he’d never have it all done in time. Making his way toward the bedroom, as he passed the kitchen, a slight movement caught his attention. He turned, felt a gust of cool air on his face, and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

In the farthest corner of the kitchen, Kyle saw a black shadow that appeared to be both on the wall and floating. His mouth hung open as it slowly enlarged. His heart hammering in his chest; he felt naked and vulnerable. Then he heard it, and his throat locked with a click mid-swallow.

“Can you feel me?” a voice taunted; a high-pitched, raspy murmur.
He barely managed a whisper, “Who are you? Wha…What do you want?”
“I want you,” it teased, “and your pretty lady too. Come closer.”

The voice was sweetly seething. Kyle was drawn to it, yet repulsed. What is this? He was dizzy and nauseous as he swayed like a pendulum and the temperature dropped at least 20 degrees.

“Look at me!” it hissed, urgent and desperate.

The cool air throbbed with electricity. He could see quick puffs of hot breath rising before him. His nose was raw, and his throat was burning. Insecure on his feet, he stared raptly at the black, hazy sickness across the room. Shapeless until now, it slowly changed, and that’s when he started to silently weep.

It’s me? Could it be me? He saw himself hanging by a tangle of frayed ropes. In an instant, he felt himself hanging. His feet were dangling, his toes touched nothing, and his head felt explosive. The coarse strands of rope pulled tighter around his neck, and he wheezed and struggled and clawed to break free. He couldn’t breathe! Oh God! He thrashed and pumped his legs as if riding an invisible bike, and in an instant, fell to the ground in a heavy heap. Gasping and pulling frantically at his neck, he felt nothing there. Quickly looking up to where the haze hovered before, the only thing he now saw was the afternoon sun shining lazily in through the window above the kitchen sink, casting a long shadow over the cluttered table in the center of the room.

With a quick glance in every direction, he got up trembling on unstable legs, tried to clear his throat with no calming result, grabbed his car keys and ran out the front door

[Moderator]

#18-psj77

The further Karen went the darker the tunnel was. She continually heard sounds but could not make out what any of them were. As she reached the end of the tunnel she could not see in front of her. She reached out to fill her way and found nothing but a stone wall in front of her. Just as panic was about to set in, to her left she found a latter built into the wall.
At the top she found a small building about the size of her and Kyle's apartment. It was not the minimum security wing as she had hoped to find but an old guard shack that was no longer used. From the looks it had been abandoned for at least a decade. It was already getting dark out side. She searched the decaying drawers with little hope of finding a flash light, but the first drawers she opened not only had a flash light, but it looked so new that it must have been placed there just this morning.
Just as Karen was about to leave the guard shack and make her way to her car she herd voices approaching. She began to pray that she would not be found. The voices stopped right out side.
It was Nurse Tak and Nurse Hatchett. Nurse Tak said "But we must find her. I don't have to tell you how important she is." Nurse Hatchett replied "No you don't, but I don't have to tell you what happens if we're late to Nurse Farson's meeting."
Nurse Tak sounding defeated responds “You are right, but if she gets away it's not Nurse Farson we will have to worry about." The Nurses walked towards the woods at the back of the sanitarium until they disappeared into the woods. Karen did not move till she was sure they were not coming back. As she started out the door a large figure ran towards her. Just before she could scream she felt something hard hit the back of her head and everything went black.

[Moderator]

#19-patinthehat

Kyle threw himself through the front door and took off the porch in a single leap landing on the run. Sprinting with enough gumption for a big time Hollywood slide over the hood of his pop's old Toyota beater he couldn’t stand to part with.

His daddy sure did adore Karen, and before he died said she was the one, to take care of her, watch over and keep her safe, that Karen was special, more special than maybe he’d ever know...or hopefully, ever have to. Kyle thought that was odd, but kinda cute, except that queer look on pop's face. He thought it was the melancholy daddy sometimes suffered for his mother who disappeared after Kyle was born, never to be heard from again. Kyle always knew he loved Karen, it was like he loved her before they met. Not a love at first sight, more the excited relief and expectation one feels when a loved one comes home after being away awhile.

Practically ripping the truck door off, his only thought as he crammed the key in, was wondering if he had experienced any "bladder control problems".
His fit of crazy laughter, as he took careful stock of his dry Levi's, hit a wall when the old truck radio started blasting a fine Patsy Cline as he hit the ignition. "...I'm crazy for tryin', I'm crazy for dyin', and I'm crazy for looovin' youuuuu" "Get a freakin' grip kitchen boy!" he yelled at himself, maybe more just to hear the pet name Karen used to get his dander up, or so she thought, but Kyle's loved her saying it secretly..or so he thought.

"Do-wha diddy diddy dum diddy do" rocked the truck with a push of a button. There was no button however, for changing whatever else filled the little truck’s cab, the air chilled so fast, his breath suddenly hung like it was on a string. The second big blast of adrenalin, in less time than that pill commercial’s promise of quality woodworking, made Kyle’s head buzz with similar ringing in his ears, but unmercifully, not loud enough. “You do need a bit more do-wha in your do-wha diddy Kyle, wha-wha what should we do about that?” hissed the cold oily voice from the house, yet..yet...what in the hell was it? Even terrified Kyle felt he should be grasping something, and it felt like it was right there, then dissipated like smoke through a window as though a light was being sucked out of a room. “Who...What, the hell are you?! Please tell me what you want with us!?” Kyle screamed while concentrating only on his breath frosting the windshield.. “You know those answers Kyle, you do know don’t you, our big brave boy? Is suicide brave Kyle...so how's it hangin'? Do you know your loverly little Karen doesn’t have much time, not this time? Yes indeed, it’s meat puppet time, only this time, if she runs out of time, your time, my time, maybe all of time, runs out of time. Wouldn’t want that on your conscious would we Kyle? Big smile Kyle, and when you need me you'll know what to do, the past is future, future is past, Jumpin' Jack Flash says give it gas gas gas!"! Without pushing a button, and on a radio that hadn't worked since daddy was alive, The Stones started playing.

Kyle hit the gas!

[Moderator]

#20-nu nu chis

August, Friday 13th, 1954. (From the newspaper ‘The Sharp Pen’)

Prestigious nurse is murdered under mysterious circumstances at the Marysville Institution for the Criminally Insane.

Yesterday morning, Kristina Clapman´s body was found in the room 318 of the Marysville Institution for the Criminally Insane, lying in the bed “so quiet as if she were sleeping”, with a scalpel jutting out of her chest and several injures, apparently made with the same object, in different parts of her body. The patient that occupied that room, Michael Loore, 6 years old, has disappeared.
The nurse was 24 years old and had been working there for only four years. Her boyfriend, Ker, committed suicide, hanging himself, the same night he heard about his girlfriend’s death.
Miss Patty Duncan, head nurse of the institution, will answer some questions for us, to explain more details of what happened.
TSP: Miss Duncan, how could a kid have escaped from the institution?
PD: That is something I ask myself every night when I go to bed and the reason why I can’t sleep. I don’t know…. I really don’t. I mean, the doors are always locked, there is no window and even if he went through that door, which I assume he did, because it was unlocked yesterday morning, I don’t understand how he made his way to the entrance door without being noticed by anyone!
TSP: Besides Miss Clapman, did anyone else enter the room that day?
PD: No, she was the first person who always went to see him and give him his injections for the panic attacks
TSP: How serious was the patient’s condition?
PD: He claimed he saw his dead mother everywhere, and he lived in constant fear of that. His father left him in the hospital last month and never came to visit him again…
TSP: Do you think the kid was in the room when Miss Clapman went to see him?
PD: what? Of course he was… how could he…
TSP: I think you didn’t understand, Miss Duncan, what I meant is, that maybe someone let the kid out and stayed in the room waiting for Miss Clapman
PD: No, that’s impossible! You see, I am the only one who have the keys of that room, every nurse has to talk to me before they go there.
TSP: But someone could have made a copy of it, right?
PD: I guess so….
TSP: Miss Duncan, the alarm system of the hospital was off when the kid escaped during late hours of the night, and we know the kid couldn’t have entered the place from which the alarms were controlled, because Nurse Littlewoods was there all night. Do you understand what it means?
PD: I’d rather not to answer that question before I speak to my lawyer.
TSP: Thank you, Miss Duncan.

“What happened to this place? It looks like I had imagined it looked 50 years ago” Karen asked, after she had wakened up in a clean, white and illuminated room lying in a bed next to Angela, who was sitting on a stool and looking tired and sad.
“You have a very good imagination, then” she answered with a cynical smile on her face, and suddenly, Karen began to understand… or at least, to suspect the truth underneath all the mysteries.
They were in room 318.

[Moderator]

#21-Girl87 (http://www.stephenking.com/forums/member.php?u=18583)

Had this boy, she has seen in here drem really escaped. Karen begun to be afraid, how had she ended up here and what was happening here. Suddenly Karen remembered Kyle. She wondered if he was okay.

Karen said “I just want to get away from here.” Angela who had been sitting in her own thoughts, look at Karen, she didn't say anything and Karen started to feel that this women knew what really been happening in this room 318. Angela began to talk again “Miss Clapman died in this room. At first the police suspected that Michael could be behind Miss Clapmans death, but when they started to investigate closer, they weren't so sure anymore. How could a little 6-year-old do something like that? So had here been someone else, who could he be and how he get in!”

Angela kept a break. Karen started to think and she asked “Did they ever find the boy or did he just disappear. Angela shook slowly here head and said: No he was never found. To think that a 6-year-old could vanish like that in the thin air, it was impossible.

Karen asked Angela if there really hadn't been any other person in the hospital during Michael's disappearing and if anyone could have seen something. Angela shrugged and said “Maybe we will never know what really happened then.” But Karen knew that Angela hide something from here.

Angela continued “Michael had been in the hospital to a while. He got sometimes very strong panic attacks and during them he was dangerous for himself and others. The night when Miss Clapman died, Michael had got one of those attacks. No one knew if there had been someone else in the building, or if Michael and Miss Clapman were the only people in the hospital. I've heard this from a person I knew and he told me suspect that Michael was behind Miss Clapman's death, but I believe there was someone else who murdered Miss Clapman and let Michael escape.”

“What if his father had returned and it was him who did all this?” Karen asked. “I don't think so” Angela said. Karen didn't know what to say anymore. She was afraid and confused.

[Moderator]

#22 redrum617 (http://www.stephenking.com/forums/member.php?u=7777)

Karen looked up from her now sedentary position on an old, rust-inflicted, chair into the eyes of Angela. She could feel her eyes piercing her own, the glance sharp and painful. In that instant, she knew that Angela had every intent of harming her. Maybe not physical harm, but harm nonetheless. If she made another wrong move or said the wrong thing, she was out of chances; they both knew that.
The leather straps on the chair rubbed against Karen’s smooth skin, which had begun to turn from a light olive to more of a red.
Karen was thinking. She had been thinking ever since she got to this hell-hole. Though the overanalyzing had nothing to do with the bizarre string of events that she was caught up in, rather, she was always one to observe her surroundings. In all her years of habitual observations, she never thought that she’d be in a situation—to this caliber—where her life would rely on it.
Angela still held Karen in her maddening gaze, and Karen had no other choice but to look at her, into that face and those eyes. Eyes that expressed such strong emotion (or craziness?)
“Please…just tell me why I’m here. What you want.”
Angela laughed.
“You can’t be serious, can you?” she said in an almost frustrated tone. Her long hair, now matted and oily, flew down in front of her eyes.
“I don’t know what you are looking to gain from keeping me here, but I don’t have any information to off—”
Angela cut her off.
“Offer? Is that what you were going to say?” Angela’s face begun to take on a new look that brought her previous expression to a whole different level of craziness. The oddity that was before her gave the impression that her face was contorting, twisting an unnatural way. For all Karen knew, it was. Just maybe it was. Out of all the things that she’d come across today, that wouldn’t be a surprise.
“You really don’t get it do you? You do have something to offer, Karen” Angela cackled, “…not just to me, not just to the employees at this facility, but to everyone. Everyone has a right to know what you know—what you have in your head.”
Karen stared blankly at Angela, unsure of how to respond. Certainly she must have her mixed up with someone else; she didn’t have anything to share.
“Come on, you really can’t believe this was all a coincidence: the job, the hospital, you being down here…why do you think you got this job, Karen? Are you really that naïve?”
At Angela’s latest comment, Karen’s head began to spin. She didn’t know what to say or what to think anymore; this was just too much for her to handle.
Finally, after several moments of shared eye contact, Angela spoke. What she said next was something that would change Karen’s life forever.
“Karen,” Angela started, you’ve been here before; now it’s time to share what you know.”

[Moderator]

#23-Lily Sawyer (http://www.stephenking.com/forums/member.php?u=21532)

Kyle stood his truck practically on its nose as he braked to a stop in front of the Marysville Institution. As he killed the engine, he felt fear roil up from his gut to settle around every nerve ending. Kyle wasn’t afraid of much, but as alien as fear was to him, he respected its insistence and responded to it accordingly the rare times it invaded his life. He hesitated at the front door, his heart knocking ominously close to his ribcage…and chose fight over flight. He strode through the Marysville front doors.

There, on the reception desk, was a computer turned around to face the lobby, with a screen that flashed and danced with the same line displayed down the length of the monitor:


Duncan 318 Duncan 318 Duncan 318 Duncan 318 Duncan 318

Puzzled, he scrutinized the monitor and pulled the keyboard over to him. The name “Duncan” pinged a distant bell in his memory banks, so surely the Marysville patient database might cough up something else. If anything, Kyle suspected 318 was a room number…because hadn’t there been some kind of scandal involving a mur-

Then the muffled scream. Karen’s scream. He’d know it anywhere; he’d heard it enough times as she’d discovered some vagrant insect in the apartment before she’d attacked it with a rolled-up magazine, but this time, there was a different quality to it. Surprised revulsion had been replaced by pure terror.

It had come from the direction of the door that indicated stairs, and he shouldered his way through it just as Karen screamed a second time, and he stopped in astonishment. She was below him, not on the third floor above him. He hopped over the railing and descended the steps two at a time, marking each floor’s number until he reached the subterranean third floor door. Once in the hallway, he half-ran, his heart in his throat, until his hunch paid off and the numbers 318 stood out from the veneer of the recessed door. He heard Karen from behind the door, her distress plainly audible in some form of plea, and willed himself to open it.

There, under the bright of examining room lighting, was Karen, strapped to a chair with institutional restraints that had seen its better days at least 40 years prior. Standing over her was a wiry woman in a nurse’s uniform, her features contorted into a hideous mix of determination, lunacy and glee. The nurse held a surgical instrument Kyle couldn’t readily identify. She appeared more than willing to use it.

Karen’s eyes grew large as she recognized Kyle and his unnoticed stealth behind Angela. He pressed a finger to his lips to cue her with silence, and then launched himself at Angela with a full-on tackle. An indignant shriek erupted from her as the instrument fell from her hand. She writhed under Kyle on the floor, struggling for the device and clawing at him. Kyle knocked it away from Angela’s reach; it came to a stop at Karen’s foot. As Angela’s protest continued, Kyle pulled back and punched her squarely on the jaw. Her howls ceased as her head bounced back on the floor.

Kyle’s hands shook as he undid the restraints on Karen’s wrists, but neither of them noticed the small group of people gathered outside the door to Room 318.

[Moderator]

#24 - Bryan James (http://www.stephenking.com/forums/member.php?u=20167)

318--The End

All your eyes have ever seen,
All you’ve ever heard,
Is etched upon my memory,
Is spoken through my words.

All that I take with me,
Is all you’ve left behind,
We’re sharing one eternity,
Living in two minds.

Linked by an endless thread----------- impossible to break…

Our deeds have traveled far,
What we have been is what we are…

All that we learn This Time,
Is carried beyond this life…

~Dream Theater
Metropolis Pt. 2

_____________
The group outside Room 318 numbered seven, and their true names had long been lost.

Their collective name was “SALIGIA” and they were more potent than ever.

The Shadowen outside of Room 318 had a no-shape, and they smelled like ancient roses smashed into burnt, salted garlic. They crisped in a dry shuffle, swaying together like cornhusks abandoned in a Reaper’s Fall wind.

The door to 318 was now open. They had always been prevented from passing through such doors, but this world had sideslipped. The Rules had faltered when the Beam over the door started cracking.

Gurgling slurries of solid smoke, The Seven had survived on the pain of Room 318. They had come to maintain a source of their power and to deal with one that had always fought them.
____________

“Karen? Karen!” Kyle yelled as he slapped her arms and face lightly. “You ok?”

Her eyes goggled for a few seconds and then opened wide in remembrance. “I, I …I think so. What did you…why are you?…I’ve been better. She gave me a shot. Is this real?”

“Yes. Now is not the time for me to say ‘I told you so.’ Let’s get out of here right now. I’ll yell at you later, babe.” Kyle helped her up. They were about to start walking when the light dimmed and the temperature plummeted.

Then the voices started from inside the door.
____________

Their voices rasped like workmen chiseling paint from iron drainpipes.

“I want you, Hope,” said Lust.
“I’ll eat you, Hope,” said Gluttony.
“I’ll kill you, Hope,” said Wrath.
“I’m better, Hope,” said Pride.
“I’m not you, Hope,” said Envy.
“I’ll take after you, Hope,” said Greed.
“I’m with these guys, that’s what I do, Hope,” Sloth said with a hint of apology.

Karen and Kyle held each other tighter, but neither screamed as the charcoal miasma floated towards them.

SALIGIA boomed in one voice over seven octaves like a demonic pipe organ, “DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT YOU ARE, GIRL? WHAT YOU MAY BECOME?”

“Ok, so now I told you so,” Kyle said as he stepped in front of Karen. “I still love you,” he added as his voice cracked.

“What? WHAT!? Tell me or leave us alone!” she thundered.

“YOU ARE WHAT WE EAT. WHAT WE UNDERMINE. ONE THAT WE HATE.”

“YOU ARE HOPE ETERNAL. WE FINALLY HAVE YOU ALONE. WITHOUT THE OTHER TWO WE CAN DEFEAT YOU.”

“What other two?” Karen asked, clinging to Kyle’s shoulders.

“FAITH AND LOVE ARE ABSENT FROM THIS PLACE. YOU ARE ALONE, HOPE.”

“I just told Karen I loved her. You can’t have her, and I fumking have FAITH in that!” Kyle shouted as he broke free of her grip and punched his way into the boiling cloud of slippery dark.

Almost as if in a blender, Kyle began to fragment as he churned in the swirling mass, but for every bit he lost he took more. For Karen, it seemed like hours, but it was only seconds before Kyle and The Seven were gone.

As the last motes of the cloud evaporated, Karen heard him say, “Love ya so,” and then she was alone. Again.
______________

WGAC News Bulletin, Dated 10/31/09:

After harsh allegations of patient abuse, the Marysville Institution outside of Derry has been shut down permanently. Anonymous sources have corroborated detailed reports of physical torture, sleep deprivation, sexual misconduct, and unsanitary conditions. More horrendous crimes may be discovered as the investigation continues. Furthermore, it has been said that extensive tunnels with strange inscriptions have been found beyond walled-off sections underneath the facility.

Angela Tak, Head Nurse of Marysville, was treated for minor lacerations and a jaw fracture before being released into the custody of Derry officials for further questioning. She has been implicated in the abuse scandal and is being held without bail.

Associate Nurse Karen Chartrand was the first to alert health organizations about the conditions at Marysville. It is reported that she was interviewed but has been unavailable for comment. No one has been able to locate her.

After this commercial break, please stay tuned for your local weather report. There seems to be quite a storm on the way.
Quite a storm, indeed.

_______________

All they leave behind them is shame and disgrace like the dirty foam left along the beach by the wild waves. They wander around looking as bright as stars, but ahead of them is the everlasting gloom and darkness that God has prepared for them.
---Jude, 1:13

[Jordan]

I've re-pinned this for a little bit becuse I've just uploaded the PDF version for whomever would like a copy.

Get the PDF here (http://www.stephenking.com/other/message_board/mb_halloween_2009.pdf)