It was a dark, stormy night. In the witching hour, heavy, dingy rain down poured past the lighted street lamps. The boulevard shone long and yellow. She took her walk alone in the old countryside, looking for someone. She didn’t exactly plan on where to head. But she just let her feet guide. By then, abruptly she stopped and chinned up. Her feet had brought to her a hand-cut stone masonry building.
She stopped at her tracks and looked up at the rusty gate and the old edifices behind it. A lonesome Oak tree stood by the building swaying in the wind and as the storm swept by the tree, it whispered to the air and its surroundings. Owls occasionally fluttered by overhead that their silhouettes passed over the moist grass. She looked around creeping under that large oak tree. The building stood out in the purply black sky. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the building. It was Building No.13 Psychiatric Center, New York which was once a haven for the city’s mentally ill. In later years, an avaricious psychiatrist Dr. Carl, illegally trafficked and caged children there turning the place a vestiges of dubious experiments, and ice-pick lobotomies do the job just fine.
Abandoned for centuries, it featured the scene of disgusting squalor including rooms where pigeon excrement had built-up over decades. Swallowing her fears she climbed the stairs. She found several wrecked rooms on up the stairs and moths all over the tattered clothes that might have been worn at one time. At the end of the second floor, she found yet another stair which led to an attic. It was dark and cob webbed everywhere. She stood there still and gaped into the room.
It was there on one stormy night Ruth an 11 year old girl was abducted and locked in cage. She was lobotomized with ice pick, chained and electrocuted. She was insanely human experimented and tormented which eventually made to give-off her last breathe. Ruth’s death was not discovered until days later, when she was found rotting in some forgotten corner.
Folks in town say that Carl had managed to abscond from Crime scene Investigators before getting caught red-handed. And he wasn’t traced since then. Until now it is also believed that Ruth haunts the building during every dark and stormy night to avenge him.
By then, a flash of lightening followed by loud thunder averting her eyes. Sighing in grief, she left the building and trudged back to the cobbled path. After the torrential rain, the grass around the place looked damp; flowers were dead and the path had weeds outlining it. With a sigh of despair she plodded and got through the centuries old marble tile made charnel house which was bearing the name – “Ruth(1819-1830)”.
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