Blackwood Asylum | Chapter 2: Curse

 

My first reaction was instinctive-run. My legs carried me toward the entrance door, adrenaline fueling every frantic step. I hadn't gone too deep into the asylum yet, and the door wasn't far. My phone's light swung wildly as I sprinted, barely illuminating the decaying path ahead. My breath came in ragged gasps, the icy air clawing at my lungs as I ran for what I thought would be my way out.

But when I reached the door, my stomach dropped. It was closed. Sealed tight. I grabbed the handle and yanked it with all my strength, the cold metal biting into my skin. Panic spread through me like fire, a torrent of terror that made my hands tremble. It had been open before-I was sure of it. Why was it locked now?

The desperation clawed at my thoughts. I wasn't just trapped; I was hunted. Behind me, the faint scrape of movement echoed off the narrow hallway, and I didn't need to turn around to know it was coming closer. The silhouette-whatever it was-was creeping toward me, slow, deliberate, its presence pressing down on me like a heavy weight, growing more menacing with each second. I could almost feel its eyes on me, watching, savoring my fear.

I backed away from the door, my mind spinning. This was supposed to be my ticket out-the story that would launch my career. My chance to make a name for myself, to finally be someone. Not some nobody who would die forgotten in this godforsaken place. I had to get out. I had to escape. My gaze darted to the stairwell to my left, and without a second thought, I turned and ran. My feet pounded against the cold, cracked tiles, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, drowning out everything else. There was another door up ahead, slightly ajar. Exit, the faded sign above it read.

I crashed through the door, my shoulder slamming against the frame, expecting to feel the cold night air on my face. Instead, I stumbled forward, nearly losing my balance as my heart sank. It wasn't an exit-it was a staircase leading down. A blast of cold, damp air hit me, carrying with it the putrid scent of rot and decay. I glanced back, the silhouette still creeping closer, the darkness wrapping itself around it like a shroud. I had no choice.

Down. I had to go down.

I took the stairs two at a time, my shoes thudding against the metal steps, the sound reverberating off the walls. The further down I went, the worse the stench became-an overwhelming, vile smell like something long dead, festering beneath the earth. I gagged, my stomach twisting, but I kept going, my phone's light flickering in the suffocating darkness. The air grew damper, thicker, and each breath felt like I was inhaling death itself. My throat burned, the stench like rancid meat mixed with mold, and every inhale felt like poison.

The walls seemed to change as I descended. They weren't just old-they were crumbling, decomposing. Layers of stone had cracked and splintered, revealing rot beneath. Water dripped from the ceiling, forming dark puddles on the steps. It was as though the very bones of the asylum were decaying around me, and I was running straight into its rotting core.

I reached the bottom and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it with trembling hands. My eyes darted around, trying to make sense of where I had ended up. The basement was vast, cavernous, a place that reeked of neglect and something darker. Rusted metal bars lined the walls-cells, cages, broken chains dangling from the ceiling. It wasn't just a basement-it was a dungeon, a place meant to keep something locked away.

I swallowed, trying to steady my breathing, but the air was thick, suffocating. My body trembled, and the panic still gripped me. For a moment, everything was silent. My breaths echoed in the darkness, and the only other sound was the rush of blood in my ears. But then, from above, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairwell. It was still there-the creature. It was still coming for me.

I backed away, my eyes scanning the room. There had to be a way out. I wasn't going to die here. Not now, not like this. My phone's light flickered as I swept it across the walls, catching sight of something that made my skin crawl. The walls were covered in graffiti-images scratched into the stone, twisted, grotesque. Faces twisted in agony, monstrous forms, symbols that made my eyes hurt to look at. It was like stepping into someone's nightmare, their madness immortalized on these decaying walls.

The imagery blurred together in my head-twisted bodies, bleeding eyes, a chaotic tapestry of pain. The deeper I looked, the more I felt it-the madness that had driven whoever did this. My heart beat faster, each image pulling me deeper into their terror. And then I saw it-an image that made my blood run cold. A goat-like creature, its hollow eyes staring right at me, its twisted horns curving toward the ceiling. It was drawn in excruciating detail, every line seeming to pulse with malice. Around it were scribbles, writings left by whoever had been trapped down here before me. Words overlapped, chaotic and frenzied, but one phrase stood out, written over and over again: This place is cursed, for we have taken the land we should never have touched.

A chill ran through me, settling deep in my bones. I backed away from the wall, but the creature's eyes seemed to follow me, staring into my soul, mocking my fear. I tried to tear my gaze away, but the image was burned into my mind, those hollow eyes haunting me. My breaths were shallow, each one a struggle. I could feel tears sting at my eyes-not just from the stench, but from the raw fear that gripped me. I had to keep moving. I had to get out.

Suddenly, a noise-a creak, then the sound of footsteps, heavier this time, echoing down the stairs. The creature was returning.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, and I spun around, looking for anything to protect myself. There was nothing-no weapons, no way out. Panic clawed at my chest, and I grabbed one of the rusted gates, pulling it shut behind me just as the footsteps grew closer. The gate rattled, the metal screeching, but it held. I locked it, my hands shaking so badly it took me several tries.

The footsteps reached the door. They paused. Silence fell, thick and suffocating, my own ragged breathing the only sound. I could see the shadow beyond the gate, just beyond the reach of my phone's light. It was waiting. Watching.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of us moved. I stayed frozen, my back pressed against the cold, wet wall, my eyes locked on the darkened figure. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, it began to retreat. The footsteps grew softer, fading back up the stairs, until there was nothing but silence once more.

I slumped to the floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. I didn't know why it had left, but I wasn't going to question it. Not now. Not when I was still alive. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, the darkness pressing in around me.

But the words on the wall echoed in my mind: This place is cursed. And somehow, deep down, I knew-I needed to get out.