CreepyPasta Collection

Can I Play With Madness

2 Thessalonians 2:11- and for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie:

I am Robert Hall- a twenty year old journalism major at the University of Louisville. Ever since I was a child I've dreamed of being a writer. I used to carry a pad and pencil everywhere with me to conduct interviews with the neighbors. I used to interview everyone from older couples bringing home groceries, to the parents of the children I was friendly with. I even interviewed the ice cream man a few times, all in the name of a somewhat fictional newspaper of my imagination. This behavior was initially encouraged by everyone around town: shop owners and the local barber didn't bat an eye at being asked if they had a few minutes to answer some questions.

As I got older the passion for writing never wavered. I wrote myriad of well received essays and stories all throughout grade school. However my penchant for scribing left me virtually friend-less. I didn't really mind, except for the nights when I found myself the victim of writer's block and had no one to hang out with. I often thought to myself that it was all part of the sacrifice. I'd have plenty of friends when I became a big shot writer, right?

It was an easy choice to make when I got that acceptance letter to Louisville. Being from Kentucky I didn't really want to leave home yet. Sure I live on campus, but I could catch a bus home and be there in less than three hours. I try to remember that when everything starts to get heavy on my mind. School can be really tiresome. I don't really ever go to the parties or anything like that so it's nice to know that I can head home when it gets to be too much. Even without friends to visit back there I still have my parents if I need to escape school for even a day or two.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not some super awkward social leper or anything like that. I just prefer to spend my time in my dorm writing and reading. In the last month or two I read "Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs" and it blew my mind. I'm going to be the next Hunter S Thompson! I just need to find something as extraordinary as he did with the biker gang. I don't know what could match it, but there's got to be something, and I'm going to find that something if it's the last thing I do.

I spent the last few weeks trying to come up with something as gripping and "outside the box" as an outlaw biker gang, and I think I found something worth writing about. There's an old mental asylum about seventy five miles from here called Eastern State Hospital in Lexington that I'm going to contact and see if I can't set something up with. Imagine an article or book about the lives of lunatics and the people who deal with them every day.

It took some doing, but I managed to find a phone number for the place. It went pretty much like I expected it to. They didn't seem overly thrilled by the idea of some kid showing up to conduct interviews, but they also didn't mind as long as they didn't have to pay me. We agreed for me to spend four days there over Spring Break. I can't even put into words how excited I am. This is my big break, I can feel it. I'm going to write the best damn piece anyone has ever read. People will be trying to interview me at the end of this.

I don't want anyone worrying about me or making jokes about my going to an insane asylum so I'm not going to tell anyone; least of all my parents. Everyone probably thinks I'm weird since I keep to myself and the last thing I need when I get back is a bunch of people staring and whispering rumors to one another about me. Nobody would even know I didn't spend spring break in my dorm since they'll almost all be away at home or visiting a beach somewhere. My bags are packed, and I managed to scrounge up some quick cash by writing Eric Finn's midterm paper for him. I had to write ten pages on F. Scott Fitzgerald in six days, but it was worth it, since he paid me twenty five dollars for it. Nothing is going to stop me now.

Day 1
This place is amazing! Well, amazing in the sense that it will tell the story of the "other side" of America. It looks like a castle from the outside, save a moat and drawbridge. When I arrived I was met by two nurses enjoying a smoke break. After some introductions they led me inside and began showing me around. I didn't expect the inside to look so benign. I was really expecting a gloomy scene with all the walls being padded, the tables and chairs bolted to the ground, and listless people in straight-jackets littering the rooms. It isn't like that at all. There are folding tables and lots of chairs, none of which are bolted down. There's this music that plays all through the day that sounds like it was written for elevators.
Most of the patients dress in street clothes, but some were clothed in beige scrubs. Many of them played various card games, and checkers, whilst others mostly sat around the common area, staring out the windows while a select few spoke to themselves. I didn't really get much in the way of interviewing today, but the walk through took me aback. This whole day has been a little surreal. Even now I can hear someone screaming.