Ghost Stories

Something buzzed at the edge of her conscience, but she desperately tried to ignore it. The buzz became louder, until the only option left was to wake up. As she opened her eyes, the sickening white light invaded her senses and soon the hospital noise entered her ears.

Slowly, she got up, put on her usual white lab coat and slowly, with sleepy steps, she headed toward the door opening to reveal the chaos beyond.

“Dr. O'Neil! I've been looking all over for you! A patient just arrived, you must come and see him immediately!” the poor nurse clearly seemed to have looked all over, beads of sweat sticking to her brow.

“I can't even take a breath with you guys, can I? Fine, tell me about this new patient while we get there.”

“His name is Kyle Mackenzie, age twelve. The police brought him here after he murdered three of his neighbors....”

“Well? Why is this our job? We're not the police!”

The nurse lifted an elegant eyebrow, looking questionably at the obvious tired doctor. “If you'd let me finish....”

“Sure... sorry Sarah, I just woke up, you know how I am... Please, continue.”

“Of course. The child was brought here for delusional behavior. He claimed he saw ghosts, zombies, and all the other Halloween things. His mind seems to be in a frail state and he sometimes has abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality as well as paranoia. I can't place the diagnosis, but I'm sure that you can see where this is leading.”

“Yeah, another wonderful case of schizophrenia.”

“I sense sarcasm in your voice!”

By now they were reaching the said room and the cunning nurse gave her the boys file.

“Good luck, you'll need it!”

“Sure, thanks Sarah!” With those last words, psychiatrist Catherine O'Neil pushed on the doorknob and entered the patient's room.

Inside the room, Catherine met with the sight of a small boy. His built was frail, cheekbones sticking out, skinny hands fidgeting with the rim of his shirt. Taking a deep breath, Catherine gave the boy a gentle smile, hoping to calm him a little.

“Hello Kyle! My name is Catherine O'Neil and I'll be your psychiatrist for the time being.”

The boys attention shifted toward her voice, eyes clearly frightened. “W-What do you want?”

“Calm down Kyle, all I want is to help you....or, maybe you want to spend the rest of your life here?”

“No.”

“Good, I'm glad we got this settled. Now,” her voice got an even calmer, almost sweet tone. “lets get to know each other a little better. I'd tell you about myself, but there isn't much to tell beside the fact that I'm a doctor. Unfortunately that takes most of my time. So.... what about you telling me a little about yourself?”

The boy gave a small nod and began to speak in a meekly voice. “What should I say?”

“Well, start by telling me a bit about yourself, what kind of person you are.... and we'll go on from there.”

After giving a tired sigh, Kyle seated himself in a comfortable position and began.

“I'm not a sociable person. I always liked to keep it to myself, the solitude of my room enchanting me more than playing or talking to others. My parents were worried about me and after long fights, they decided that a change of scenery would do me some good. So we moved....”

The room was dead silent. The soft noise of Kyle voice and the scratchy sound of Catherine's pen were the only sources of sound one could hear. With every sentence, Catherine's hopes that the boy would open up to her were growing.

His face was relaxed, nearly disinterested as he spoke, relaying aspects of his personality and childhood. It all went well until suddenly, Kyle features twisted in fear, his eyes threatening to pop out of his head. He began crawling backwards until his back hit the wall. Them, he shot his hands up in a protective matter, all the while screaming.

“No! Please don't! I won't tell! I swear I won't tell...” He began rocking back and forth, beads of perspiration dangling on his forehead, eyes lost in oblivion. “...won't....tell...”

Catherine quickly noted the boys change of demeanor in her notebook and prepared to leave the room when something that sounded more like a growl than anything made the doctor turn her head, fear staring to creep in her soul as well.

“You like playing doctor?” the boys voice didn't sound like his own, his previously fearful features now morphed in a mask of anger and blood lust. “Now we'll play a little game of my own!”

Panicking like she'd never panicked before, Catherine's body reacted instantly, a rush of adrenaline giving her the momentum to escape.

Finding herself on the other side of the door seemed like heaven as the medic found the will to calm down.

“Get a grip of yourself Catherine! He's just another crazy kid....a really creepy one, but just a kid!” she almost slapped herself for her incompetence, but was brutally interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Talking to yourself again, doc'?”

“Ah! Sarah, good you're here!... Put the Mackenzie kid to sleep and give him a generous dosage of that Ritalin.”

“Sure doc'!”

“Oh and Sarah, be careful, he was going all crazy earlier.” She was glad that her voice didn't tremble, glad that the pain from puncturing her palm distracted her attention from the fear that spread like a plague inside her soul.

I saw the small nurse enter the room and stick a needle in my neck. It hurt, but I didn't care. I'd go to sleep soon, sleep in peace, or so I thought.......

The headstand clock rang, waking me up from my slumber. Slowly, the very nice dream I was experiencing began to fade away, leaving me with one option. To wake up. As my eyes open, I see it's “Aww man, why do I have to wake up so early in the morning?”

“Kyle honey! Are you up?” like always, my mom barged into my room as though she owned it.

“Come on! Today there's no time for laziness!”

“Why?” her high pitched voice hurt my ear drum and I was currently giving her a death glare that hopefully would make her turn down the volume.

“Oh Kyle, what world are you from? Today's Halloween! We were invited to a party, the whole town is going to be there! So what do you....”

“I'm not going.”

“What? Why, Kyle?”

I didn't like to see my mom disappointed, but in truth I just didn't want to attend a party, not to mention a party full of snob people whose children made fun of me with every chance they got.

“I just don't want to go.”

“I see....OK dear. Come down to breakfast then, we have graveyard cookies with blood juice.” She left my room with tiny steps.

Halloween...well in my opinion it's yet another day for people to show off. Hmph, ghosts, yet another bunch of lies....I just wish all this was gone! People out there act like they're blind to everything around them! It's like I'm in a huge loony bin!!!

I was loosing control. I felt it. It was the frustration that had been building with time, and now, it decided to manifest itself. The punch delivered to the wall broke the wallpaper, revealing a decently large cavity in the wall that contained different objects.

“What is this?”

“Kyle! Come on honey, breakfast is ready!” - again the high pitched tone.

“Sure mom, I'll be down in a second!” I have to hide this damn hole!

I feel like I'm alive. I've found something that definitely captures my attention and I won't let them take it from me!

Soon, a giant poster was stuck on the wall where previously the hole had been. Satisfied with my work, I ran downstairs to eat.

After breakfast was over, I find myself watching as my parents leave. I sit in the doorway for a few more seconds, waving at them with a fake smile planted on my lips. Actually I'm not sure if the smile is fake or not. After all, I am glad that I have the whole day to myself. Just me and my new discovery.

I quickly ran to my room and gently took the poster off, revealing the strange hiding.

It was dusty, the thick layer of dust rising into the room as I blew it off. As the dust cleared, I quickly managed to see what the hole contained.

There were different letters and a few pictures. On the back of every picture, there was the same thing: St. Patrick's mental institution.

“What the...” I have no idea why this name seems familiar to me, but it definitely rings a bell.

Getting up from my bed, I drift to the computer, hoping to find something on the Internet.

“Ha!”- I found it! - “Hail to the almighty INTERNET!”

My thorough search paid off and right now my attention was to the article I had found. “No way! It used to be here?? In Thunbridge?”

Out of the blue, everything becomes fuzzy. The whole room morphed, now containing a small wooden desk with chair, a simple, one person bed and a bookshelf.

I look around and I can't believe my own eyes. After rubbing them for a few times, I blink a little and survey the scenery once more.

The same.

“Where am I?” This certainly isn't my room anymore, so, what is this?

Looking outside the window sounded like a good option, but the outside scenery seemed to have changed as well.

“I have to calm down... try and find a phone and call mom and dad, they'll know what to do.”

After gathering enough courage, I begin walking toward the door and out in what looked like a large hallway. Images of people dressed in white robed welcomed me, each running in different directions. It looked like chaos and my eyes begin to hurt, the blurry of white robes confusing me. The best course of action would be to follow a staff member and see if maybe I can find a phone.

A nurse walked down the hallways. I followed her. It's strange, but she seems unaware of my presence, as if....I'm just not there. Finally, after minutes of walking on the labyrinth like corridors, the woman opens a door of what seems to be an operating room.

In the middle of the room stood the patient, ready for the intervention. A few minutes pass and I see the doctor enter the room and connect the man to what looks like a shock machine.

“Nurse, keep him still.”

“Yes sir.”

As the doctor pulls the switch, the nurse struggles with the patients body, trying to keep him still as the shocks pass through his body, rendering him unconscious. As soon as he passes out, the doctor turns to look at the nurse.

“Steel yourself Ellen, this is not the way for a professional to act. This is a lobotomy operation, not a walk in the park!”

“Yes doctor Peterson, I understand.” Then, she took a white towel, and placed it over the nose and mouth of the patient.

I cringe a little, the image slowly turning toward the disturbing area, but my curiosity keeps me in place. I watch with shocked eyes as the doctor peels back the eyelid and inserts an ice-pick above his eye. My knees began to tremble, but I just couldn't find the strength to run, or turn my eyes away from the sight. My own body forces me to see as he takes a hammer and taps the ice-pick until it reaches the brain. I want it to stop, I want to close my eyes and block the image, I want to shut my ears so I won't hear the sluggish sound of minced brains....But I couldn't. So I'm left with nothing else to do then watch as he wiggles the ice-pick inside the brain.

I feel my stomach beginning to constrict painfully, the remains of my breakfast spilling on the floor. The image keeps replaying in my mind, making me unable to stop gaging the contents of my stomach.

I have to get out of the room - is the only coherent thought that keeps me standing and due to it, I finally manage to get up and run for the door. Before exiting, I turn around and there he was.... staring at me with predatory eyes, like I was about to become his new testing subject on the ice-pick lobotomy operation. Fear, fear in it's rawest form. I feel it wash over me like a cold shower. I run, run for my sanity, run away from that madman.

As I run, my vision becomes blurry. No! Passing out from fear isn't an option right now! But I didn't pass out. The feeling of dizziness wasn't coming. Instead, the walls start to melt. Again, the scenery changed.

I thought it was over.... but it wasn't.

“Oh God, where am I now?” I look around and find my answer. The white walls, the smell of antiseptic, everything tells me that I'm anywhere but home.

“Still here...” At first I had the impression that I'm alone in the room. After a further inspection I realize I was wrong.

I see something in the corner.... it's a basket. I further squint my eyes and realize there's a person in that basket, a woman judging from her hair, but I couldn't tell for sure.

Curiosity tugs at my soul so I step closer. She's just standing there, all skin and bone. The nails from her hands and feet are so long that they look like claws. Hollow orbits make my skin crawl, the sight of her bruised face and missing teeth making me shudder. The word horrified doesn't hold enough meaning to express my state of mind. I'm terrified and disgusted that a person could be treated like that.

“Who would ever do that to a human being?” Pity took over and my hand began to stretch forward. I want to help the poor woman. My hand is almost on the cage's locking device when she screams. The sound fills my ears, travels through my body and triggers the fear.

I knew that if she continues screaming like that, Dr. Peterson might hear her and come here. He would get me, shock me and then insert that ice-pick in my head. I have to leave!

My feet scramble, but I manage to find the strength to run. I have to get away from the cruelty which surrounds me.

The halls seem endless as I run. I often get glimpses of other torture instruments from several other rooms and it frightens me even more. People being submerged in boiling water, or showered with ice cold water, people being shocked unconscious or locked in a box and left there for indefinite periods of time.

Each glimpse urges me to run faster, run to keep my sanity.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I arrive back in the room where I first found myself in. I'm still afraid, my heart still beats at an abnormal rate, but my mind refuses to believe the reality of the situation. “This is not true...this is not true, this is not true...”

After what felt like an eternity, I find the courage to open my eyes. Slowly, the scenery begins peeling itself again. This time, it was the right one. “Thank God, I'm home!”

I get up and run towards the window to confirm everything. The night had descended, children already beginning they're trick-or-treat game. That means that I had been out for more than three hours!

The only coherent thing that I could think is that it was a bad dream, and the logic part of my brain agreed with me. I was about to return to my computer when I heard it. A maniac laughter coming from seemingly everywhere. I turn only to see my greatest fear standing right before me, dressed in the same hospital robe I saw him operate in, blood stains speckled on it.

“Scared, boy?”

Yes, terrified actually.

I can't stop starring at the translucent image of Dr. Peterson for dear life, and my legs begin to move only when I see him get the blood stained ice-pick from his pocket. Feeling death nipping at my heels, I get out of the room as fast as I can. I still hear that evil laughter behind me as I begin descending the stairs.

When I see the stairs, the first thing I think of is salvation. Then I saw her. The basket lady, dragging herself on her skinny hands, body littered with scars. I panic and try to go back up the stairs, but they were everywhere. Coming out of every room of the house, they're walking or crawling toward me, each bearing scars of the tortures they were subjected to.

I hear someone scream....It's me, I'm screaming, drowning in fear as my heart pumps blood like crazy.

I have to get out, I can't die, I have to protect myself.

On a moment's notice, I finally find the will to jump off the stairs. My fear of heights commands me to keep my eyes closed as I land on the couch with a thud. Now, all I have to do is head for the front door.

My leg hurts. I can walk, but I still feel tiny shocks of pain that prevent me from running straight for the door. The door is my hope, it leads outside and outside means freedom, safety. I get up from the couch when I hear the front door open. I look in that direction, hoping I will see my parents. My eyes grow large with fear as more tormented patients come through the door.

Adrenaline, or maybe survival instinct allows me to move from my fear frozen state. I try to make a beeline toward the kitchen, but my leg hurts, so I resume to walking towards the kitchen, back facing a nearby wall.

With trembling hands, I grab a knife and keep it in front of myself. I will fight. I will fight for my life and struggle for sanity.

They halt for a second, then I see the doctor coming forth.

“Did you think you will escape? Your blood is tainted, betrayal written in your DNA! You will pay for what Ellen did! She ruined my career! I had no more patients!! You will be my patient now!”

I'm stunned. I have no idea what this translucent man wants from me, and I certainly don't know any Ellen. However, what I do know is that he won't just let me live. “I won't give in!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” And I charged. With the kitchen knife tightly in my hands, I charged with all my might and slashed blindly in his general direction.

My knife met resistance, but when I open my eyes I see that I missed him. However, my attack wasn't useless. I slashed the throat of one his minions.

I've never killed before, and I never wanted to kill, but did killing something that is already dead mean murder? Will I be sent to prison for killing the patients of St. Patrick's mental institution?? After all, they're dead since 1951!

“Ah....a killer, I see you have spirit kid! But....you missed.”

I hear his voice and feel the blood boiling inside my veins. I charge again, taking another swing. He jumps around, dodges and even if I do slash him, he just doesn't seem to be hurt!

“My, my boy, you amaze me!” again, his laugh echoes in my ears.

“Laugh all you can, you are the only one left! Your minions are gone!”

“My minions? Foolish little boy, you have no idea what you've done.” He laughed again, the sound of his voice sending shivers down my spine. His voice sounds filled with venom. “I'm not done with you!”

And just like that, he was gone.

I breathe a couple of times. My heart beat subsides as the adrenaline leaves my system. In a moment's notice I fall onto the kitchen floor. The last thing I remember was feeling a warm liquid with coppery smell on my cheek.

It was morning again and Catherine headed toward her new patient. Dark rings screamed lack of sleep, a yawn here and there accentuating the opinion. “Ugh, Kyle can wait...I need caffeine badly!”

Unknown to her, Kyle had no time to wait....

I try to open my eyes....I can't, it hurts. My head feel like it's been smashed with a hammer. After a few minutes of laying still and willing the headache to go away, I try again.

A vague feeling of anxiety makes me look around the room. I could feel the remains of fear, but couldn't realize where it came from?

“You forgot about me already, boy?”

The cruel voice that sent chills down my spine and the ice-like feeling that settled inside my stomach whenever he was present were real. He came back for me!

“What do you want?” I'm scared like I've never been before, but that won't help me. I have to make a lot of noise so that the nurses would hear me. “Why are you here?”

His maniac laughter fills my ears once more, giving me the creeps.

“Boy, you are more stupid than I thought! I'm here to help you.”- his voice sounded coated with honey- ”I see you are a little confused as to why you are here, so let me enlighten you.”

I narrow my eyes and regard him with suspicion. In fact, I have no idea why I'm in a mental hospital. “Talk fast!”

He grinned, exposing his rotten teeth. “As you wish. You were brought here because you are schizophrenic. Also, while you were in a frenzy, you killed three children from the neighborhood.”

“W-What?” I can't believe it! He's... he's lying! He has to be! I didn't do such a thing!

“Oh, I see you try to deny it.... There's no use! You killed them in cold blood, remember?”

My head hurts and his words sound blurry. I'm trying to remember what I did, but all I see is a series of flashback with no particular meaning. Did I kill them? Is it possible that I killed three children in clod blood?

“I see you don't remember... Fine, I'll give you a little push.”

No! he's heading toward me with a menacing glare. My head hurts so bad I can hardly keep my eyes open and I have no means to protect myself from the ghost of Dr. Peterson.

Suddenly, just like it happened before, the scenery changed. Only this time, I am just a spectator, watching myself jump off the stairs and land on the couch. I saw the door opening, just like it did back then. However, this time there are no tormented patients entering, only three kids that lived in the neighborhood.

Terrified, I watch myself run toward the kitchen and grab a knife. They try to talk to me, telling me that the knife was dangerous, but I was hearing none of it. Instead of letting the knife down, I started screaming and running toward them. I watched as I took the fatal swing, slashing one's throat, then began to blindly swing the bloody weapon until none of them were alive.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I killed three kids in cold blood, believing they were monsters.

Shock was an understatement. I just stood there, staring into space.

I think I'm back in my hospital room, but I don't know for sure. I see Dr. Peterson approaching me with a wicked smile, but I can't find the will to express fear. I think he has an ice-pick in his hand....but what would he do with an ice-pick? He bends over me and soon my vision goes black.

Someone's screaming.....it sound like he's in agony..... Oh, that's me....I'm screaming.... I think....I think I'm dying....

The reason behind Kyle Mackenzie's death remains a mystery. Soon after he died, psychiatrist Catherine O'Neil decided to look into the matter. She found out that Kyle was an adopted child, but there was no record of who the mother was.

His adopted parents said they only knew his grandmother whom had passes away a few years ago. Her name was Ellen Watson and used to work as a nurse for St. Patrick's mental institution....