Abandoned

"Craig, I can't see shit!"

Johnny huddled against an old rusted rod-iron gate. He gripped it as if the prison itself would drag him back into its deepest abyss!

"hang in there man, I'll have to go to base-camp and grab more batteries." Craig said with a worried tone.

"I can't believe this shit is happening! You assured we wouldn't split up: I'm stuck on one side of this god awful gate and you're on the other!"

Each word resonated with pitch perfect accuracy in the primordial prison. Its long hallways and aged stone walls amplified any sound.

"Johnny, stay put. I'll be back in fifteen minutes and then everything will be fine!"

Craig shuffled down the lengthy hall of the prison ward, heading towards their initial base-camp.  His footsteps echoed  amongst the iron bars, stone walls and high ceilings.  The daunting darkness of the ward smothered all accountability of time.

Johnny's muscles pulsed against the weathered rod-iron gate as he pressed his ear to its rusty bars. Soon nothing could be heard.  

He was alone! 

*** 

Venzula Penitentiary sits on top of a hill, abandoned in rural Australia. Built like a castle it's designed to house the "twice transported" prisoners or outcasts of society.  

Off the beaten path, the main resolve was to cleanse inmates of their sins by isolating them twenty four hours a day. Warden Howard M. Stein, believed penance through God can purge the dishonesty and sickness each prisoner possessed. Socialization of any form was forbidden.  As seen by its isolated location, no outside influence can inhibit their treatment. Unfortunately true, any scream or cry for help was also swallowed by the vast outback. 

In the early nineteen hundreds, the prison was shut down for inhumane treatment. Abandoned, the antiquity of its archaic stone walls was imprinted with the spirit of time. A sense of overwhelming sadness and anger, lingers amidst the lonely halls.  

People would have you believe the place has ghosts or inhabitants who never left. So it stands, as do most dilapidated primitive prisons, haunted.  

***

"Johnny, come here and check this out."  

Craig hunched over his computer clicking the mouse enthusiastically. He sat at the desk in their hotel room.  

"This place looks pretty legit; I think the old prison is about an hour from here? Looks like a good thrill before we head home,"  Craig said.

"Ya,  I saw a special on the TV about the prison last night, after you dozed off.  It is supposed to be haunted!" Johnny mewled.

"I think we should at least talk with one of the locals about this place." Craig said excitedly.  

Johnny moved over to the desk and stood behind Craig. A picture of the prison illuminated the small screen. Its immense towers, formidable walls and inner court yards gave Johnny an uneasy feeling.  

"This is hell on earth," he said as Craig started to read the excerpt beneath the picture.  

"Venzula Prison closed in nineteen thirty-two. After multiple inquires and indictments of malpractice the federal authorities shut the prison down and never reopened the facility."  

Craig took a deep breath and scrolled further down the page to another picture. A giant blurry man standing in-front of a white iron gate, appeared on the screen. Craig again read the brief explanation.