The Ghosts of Northgate

Something a bit strange about Wednesdays (no I am not talking about the weekly challenge at Indies Unlimited or maybe I am). When I start this weekly introduction every week I get a flash of a song in my head. And every time this happens the songs are changed to be something to do with the Wednesday piece for the Indies Unlimited Challenge.

This week the tune was “It’s Raining Again” but with the words “It’s Wednesday again.” Maybe I should make some theme songs for these stories.

The Ghosts of Northgate

The Ghosts of Northgate

Photo by K.S. Brooks

Northgate Sanitarium was an extension of the state prison system. The facility specialized in experimental treatment of the criminally insane. Some horrible stuff went on there.

Abandoned in the 1950s, the old building has been linked by rumor to a few recent disappearances.

I had just gotten my first job as a journalist, working for the Northgate Observer. I thought it would make a good story to spend the night in the old sanitarium. Back then, I guess you could have called me a skeptic…

They don’t talk about the experiments that happened in the old Northgate Sanitarium. The books burnt up in a fire. But that never stopped the experiments. What’s done is done.

I charged my phone for the night and took a flash back up, Extra batteries for the torch too. I could stay up all night to catch any “spooks” that happened to come by. The place sucked the energy from all of it.

I know you are probably thinking that maybe I wasn’t as prepared as I say I was. But those batteries, they never took a charge again. My phone, hell, I had to get a new one. The programming fried.

I sound sane, as sane as anyone could sound under the circumstances. See, I never saw a ghost or a spook. I couldn’t see anything. Trapped, frozen in the dark, I couldn’t leave the space where I camped for the night. With no light I would have died fighting through the halls to the outside world.

It was the sounds, screams, wails, crashing, breaking, all around me. I had the sense to lock the door. They beat on it all night long. I dared not venture into the halls, even when they called my name.

I mentioned earlier that I could stay up all night. In the end it wasn’t by choice. Even now I can’t bare the dark. It was the bloody handprint by the door in the morning. I ran, God help me, I ran.

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