Was I drunk or were there actually such a thing as ghosts?
It was a gloomy night in the middle of June. The rain was pouring down and you could hear the thunder rumble the ground as it clattered. Boom!
While I was with three other of my mates, I was still scared to a pulp. It seemed like a horror story gone wrong. It was raining pit bulls and mountain lions outside and I was a teenage baby. The problem was that I was already half drunk and was willing to go to any lengths to heighten the high.
We all sit back and reminisce while bozo over there laying face first on the ground suggests we go to 8 mile. Over on the crossroads there was what we all called the “loony bin for whackos.” But in reality it was called an insane asylum for the criminally insane. They housed all sorts of murderers and rapists, pedophiles of the sorts. There was even a crazy house for the kiddies. Luckily it had been shut down since 1980 so we were in no immediate danger of them finding us, or were we?
In the clatter of the rain down pouring on us while we sit in my best friends car outside his parents house drinking whiskey and paint thinner, we got half of our minds wrapped around going to this nutso house. I don’t know who was really crazy at this point, but maybe we deserved to be there. If driving drunk wasn’t crazy enough we now went ten miles out of our way to see where all the experimenting went on. Well, that is why they closed it.
The nut house had a rep for having tunnels underneath it, that where now filled with too much asbestos to go in. They would transport the loonies from one edge of this miniature city to the next. It was at least 30 acres of land, and no one wanted any of the murderers getting loose, while the actual city lie right beyond a cage entombing the wicked.
Now 25 years since close we arrive at the neighborhood that was previously in imamate danger. It felt like an episode of Back to the Future with a little Quentin Tarentino B-rate horror mixed in. As we hopped out of the car I put my bottle of paint thinner over my head with one hand and pull up my slouching pants with the other. We snuck through the backyard of a screaming townie and we crept through the woods to our dreaded danger.
As you hear the trees clatter amongst each other you could swear something knew we were coming. We make our way further in the forest and geckos hide underneath the dirt, while the worms come out to play with evil intent. You could hear it! Smack! The tree branch only thirty yards from us collapsed from a lightning strike. Soon to be upon arrival I started to piss my pants, although they were too wet from sweat and rain to tell a difference.
Reaching the outer gates we find a spot that had been torn apart by the other forbidders. This now abandoned town of one crazy attracted a whole new other kind. There were cults and satanic worshipers to be warned for on the inside, but this was the least of our fears. We’d come for the ultimate jackpot. We’d come to revel with the passed on but still haunted criminally insane.
We chose to come into the workmen’s complex first, where it bare all sorts of odd machinery. I took a huge rock, “Heave-ho!” and plunged it through the window. We were in!
The air on the outside seem to be nothing but humid and attracting all sorts of gnats and flies. One of us at a time climbed over the barrier and through the glass, plopping ourselves into the broken down machine house. Near instantaneously you could feel the shift in temperature and breaths we took. The air outside being a musky 95 degrees Fahrenheit, it was now almost below 60 on the inside. Our breath turned blue and I was immediately panicked.
We all got what we came for as we turned the corner. You had to be careful of where you put your foot, it could go right through the rotten molded out floors, walls, and ceiling. Jumping to the next piece of plywood I make it to the machinery room, not daring to go in. You stop and wait as you hear a whisper. “The old man never left!” my mate said. We heard what was evident to be a breathing machine. All of a sudden a clank come from inside the room, which turned to a dragging noise. The breathing got louder.
This was our time to book it square assed out of the machine room! We turned and screamed like the little babies we were, knew we got exactly what we had come for. Our breath still blue in the air, crisper than if we were in Eskimo city, ghosts where now upon us. We all pushed each others asses out the window and falling face first to the ground we try to collect ourselves as nothing looked familiar.
The rain had gotten worse and I felt like I was running from the Bates Motel. It started to hale storm as we all high tailed it out from the dungeon we were in. You could hear the dragging getting closer as the machines on the inside turned on and started to act like they functioned again, or so we thought we heard. “It’s been shut down for 25 years you said?” I asked my best friend. “Damn straight!” He hollered back as he looked for the opening in the gate to get us the hell out of there.
Running rampantly like mice craving for cheese, all I wanted was to finish my fifth and head home. What happened next was unexpected.
A light flashes on us and you hear an utter screech like someone was urging us to leave even faster. “I thought you said this place wasn’t guarded?” I asked. They all shook their heads in disbelief. While I run up a hill to big to hold my ground my ass falls out of my pants and I hit a stump and tumble. The man chasing us grew nearer. I crawled myself out of what seemed to be a mud hole and ran for my life. I closed my eyes and said it, “There’s no place like home, and there’s no place like home!”
I opened my eyes and I finally see the background oh the neighborhood we walked through to get here with our car only a few blocks down. The rain had started to dissipate and the man shinning a light were now gone. We all arrived at my mates care and he squeals, “Owe!” Looking at his arm we see what looked like three bloody fingernail scratches, fresh and in cold blood running down his arm, dripping. The rain finally stopped and his arm looked like a witch had tried to tear his arm off. Wasting no more time we got in our car and high tailed it out of there! The next day we woke up, the scratch marks on my friends arm had completely vanished without a trace of scarring or bruises.
This was one of the scariest moments in my life as ghosts can haunt us all in many different ways when we use or abuse drugs and alcohol. This can be used metaphorically if you so please but it’s 100% true ‘from what I remember.’ Granted to say I was drunk and shouldn’t have gone there, this wasn’t the last time we visited this satanic ground. This now being a high all in its own became a weekly thing during the summer of 2005.
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