Edge of Insanity
Part I
Trixie Belden zipped through the streets of Sleepyside in her compact car, the open sunroof making her curls dance wildly in the breeze. She was on her way to the television station for a strategy meeting about her newest assignment.
“I still can’t believe I’m doing these segments that show viewers fun things to do around town,” she crowed. “And I’m having so much fun doing it.”
A few months earlier, Trixie had accepted a position as a weekend event reporter with a television station in White Plains. Her job was to showcase local happenings and places that denizens could visit or engage in during their leisure time. So far, Trixie had explored paddle boarding, a horseback riding stable that provided therapeutic services to kids, a zipline course at a local park plus many more fun and interesting activities. “Gleeps! How lucky can a girl get?”
Pulling into the station’s parking lot, Trixie grinned when she noticed the dots of light that bounced and reflected around her car and across her dashboard. Turning off the engine, she paused briefly to admire the diamond ring she now wore on her left hand.
“Gleeps again!” she exclaimed softly. “So many good things have happened. I can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next.”
After passing through the station’s front door, she gave a friendly wave to Chelsea, the receptionist, then headed down the long hall to the conference room. The scheduled meeting today was to map out a special “about town” segment.
Grabbing a cup of tea from the beverage station in the corner, Trixie doctored up her drink then sat down. A few minutes later, her producer, Mr. Haas, and cameraman, Oliver, came in.
“Good afternoon, Trixie,” boomed Mr. Haas, his height towering over the conference table. “We’ve got a lot to go over so let’s get to work.” After opening his laptop computer, Mr. Haas continued, “You brought this idea to me a few weeks ago. I checked it out and I think it’s a good one.”
Trixie grinned cheekily. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist an abandoned insane asylum. Who could?”
Mr. Haas pulled out the paperwork the legal department had prepared, which outlined the station’s responsibilities and obligations while filming on the site. There were also the requisite release forms, which they all signed. Then he scrolled through his computer until he found the website he was seeking, the abandoned insane asylum that was situated on forested acreage half way between Sleepyside and White Plains.
“We have several possibilities with this asylum story. We could focus on the current renewal process that’s changing it into a shopping, dining and art center. Or we could focus on its history. And last, we could explore the myth that it is haunted.”
Trixie’s hand shot up. “I vote for the haunted aspect of the asylum.”
Mr. Haas smiled. “I was pretty sure that would be your choice. However, we do have to remember that we serve a host of people with different interests. In my opinion, I believe we have ample material to do more than one shoot out there.”
“Really?” asked Trixie. “So the haunted asylum isn’t off the table?”
Mr. Haas shook his head. “Not at all.”
With a few maneuvers, Mr. Haas had his computer connected to the large screen television that was mounted on a wall near the conference table. He opened up the map of the historical compound so they could get a better feel for how the grounds were laid out. Having already done some research, Trixe knew the general history behind the facility but she hadn’t had the time to be as thorough as she would have liked. Flipping through a series of photographs, Mr. Haas pointed out potential spots of interest and where he thought parts of the interview could be staged.
Oliver agreed with several of the choices. With a few clicks on the computer, Mr. Haas marked those select sites.
“I believe you’ll be able to get inside the buildings,” he said, “as long as the curator is willing to take you in.”
“That’d be cool,” said Trixie.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Haas. “And, as usual, all the details will be worked out before you ever step foot on the grounds. And Trixie, you’ll need to do more research than usual for this segment. This is an important site with a lot of interesting facets. But, I don't want to waste precious air time with irrelevant discussions. I want you to get to the heart of the stories and myths regarding this place. Also, people are more interested in it now since it’s being infused with a lot of taxpayer money. As I recall, getting people excited about something is your area of expertise.”
Trixie grinned. “I’ve had my moments. But I’ve already started my research and plan on doing a lot more. This facility is fascinating, including some of the programs that were established to help the residents when it was functioning as an asylum.”
Mr. Haas nodded. “Of course, when we shoot the segment, you’ll have an expert curator with you but you’re going to have to guide the questions so we get what we want from the interview.”
“Of course.” Trixie bobbed her head briskly in agreement.
The three focused on the logistics of the television shoot, then adjourned. Trixie nearly skipped out of the station, she was so excited about the segment.
“This is going to be the best one yet,” she said as she got into her car and sped back home to her computer where she could continue her own research.
***************
When Tad, toting a bag of delicious smelling hamburgers and onion rings, arrived at his fiancee’s apartment that evening, he was met by an excited Trixie. She couldn’t wait to show him what her latest research had uncovered. Ignoring the overwhelming aromas from Tad’s bag, she opened up her laptop and displayed the abandoned asylum’s website.
“Look at these pictures,” she exclaimed excitedly as she rapidly scrolled through the site. “And look at all that wild graffiti on the buildings. I bet some really crazy people did that.”
Tad paused Trixie’s hand and studied a vivid shot of the main building.
“Wow!” he whistled softly. “That architecture’s amazing. It’s such an excellent representation of a late 1800’s institution.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Trixie, sitting back on the couch. “I keep forgetting you studied architecture. Can you imagine how gorgeous these grounds must have been in the day? Those oak trees are huge. I bet they’re over 250 years old.”
Tad studied Trixie. “Still struggling with math, I see.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“Silly,” Tad gently flicked her nose. “The asylum isn’t even 150 years old. And, by looking how the trees are arranged, I conclude that they were planted after they completed the buildings.”
Trixie frowned. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Tad slid the computer onto his lap so he could study the pictures more thoroughly. Leaving him to his contemplations, Trixie went into the kitchen then returned with two plates and drinks. She unbagged and plated the food while Tad continued to stare at the computer.
“Look at those arches.” He traced the outline of one of the structures that surrounded the lead glass windows with his finger. “And it’s all done in brick. I’m glad they’re keeping this facility. Sometimes, people think it’s better to tear down and erect something new.”
“Yeah, it will be a neat art community with all those studios and shops. Plus, there’ll be restaurants and small cafes.”
“It will definitely be a fun place to go.”
“I agree.” Trixie popped an onion ring into her mouth. “Let’s go out there as soon as some of the businesses open. And I bet Diana will be dying to visit the art galleries out there.”
Tad studied the pictures on the website. Suddenly, he turned to Trixie.
“Why wait? I say we go over there tomorrow and look around.”
“Tomorrow? But I have to work until four.”
“And I have to work until three. We’ll go after you get off. We’ll have plenty of time and the website says the grounds are open until 8.”
Trixie felt a familiar shiver run up her spine. “Gleeps! I say yes.”
“I knew you would.” Tad took a big bite from his hamburger and grinned. “When did you ever pass up an adventure?”
***************
The next day at work, Trixie told Imogene, propietor of Ingram's Antiques, about the assignment at the old insane asylum and when she would be filming it.
“Remember when you first told me about that abandoned compound,” began Trixie.
Imogene, humming softly under her breath, nodded.
“Well, after our conversation, I looked into it then took that idea to the station and they liked it. We’re filming there next Saturday.”
Imogene clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’m so glad. That place is a gorgeous snapshot in time. When I heard that a developer had decided to rejuvenate it, I was thrilled. By the way, did I tell you that they’ve contacted me about putting a small antique shop out there?”
“No.” Trixie neatly lined up an old set of Mcguffey readers.
Imogene nodded. “Yes, they thought my shop would be a good fit with the other small businesses they hope to attract.”
“Are you going to do it?”
Fiddling with the usual rhinestone brooch attached to her work apron, Imogene sighed. “I don’t know. That sounds like a lot to handle. I have this shop, the restaurant and the garden center.”
“That is a lot,” agreed Trixie. “But Mart takes care of the garden center and Ian, your favorite chef, handles the restaurant. A satellite Ingram’s Antiques might be good for your overall pocket. Tell you what: I’ll do an assessment when I’m out there filming and then give you an
opinion.”
“That sounds lovely, dear. Now, let’s go pack up that set of china that we need to ship out today.”
“By the way,” said Trixie as the two headed to the backroom. “Tad and I are going to go check out the asylum today after we get off work.”
Imogene stopped. “Oh” She frowned. “Well, I guess that should be okay but you don’t want to be there after dark. They say it’s haunted.”
“I read that online. But I’m not sure I believe it. I bet what a lot of people claim are ghostly happenings are really the antics of some bored kids.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “And believe me, I know several kids who would do something like that.”
Imogene scratched her cheek nervously. “I don’t know. People have seen flickering lights when there’s no electricity and some swear they’ve heard footsteps on the floors above them. And others claim to have heard children playing and laughing when there are no children around. I had to drive by the asylum one night and I swear I saw ghostly wisps all over the place.” She shook her head. “No, thank you. If I do put a shop out there, I will definitely close up at five and not a minute later.”
Imogene bustled ahead while Trixie pulled out her phone and sent Tad a text. “Do you think the asylum could be haunted?”
Tad’s reply text was to the point. “No.”
Slipping her phone back into her pocket, Trixie allowed her imagination full rein. “Maybe it’s haunted and maybe it’s not. But that would be so cool to actually see a ghost.”
After getting off work, Trixie drove to Tad’s apartment where the two had agreed to meet. Pulling into the apartment compound, a groan escaped her lips when she saw her brother’s car sitting next to Tad’s in the residents’ parking lot.
“Gleeps! Why isn’t he at work? I know when he finds out where Tad and I are going, he’ll want to tag along.”
After grabbing a fleece hoodie from her back seat, Trixie hurried up to the second story flat. A few minutes later, Trixie’s prediction proved to be correct.
“Come on, Trixie. Allow me to be a compatriot in this historical quest. Besides, you never know when you might require the presence of a third person,” pleaded Mart.
“I need a third person for playing musical chairs and London Bridge but not for checking out an old asylum,” replied Trixie, giving her brother a menacing look.
“Have you given any serious thought to the possibility of it being cursed by ghostly entities?”
“What if it is?” countered Trixie. “That would make this trip even more fun.”
“Well, if we engage with an unearthly being, I promise to canter slower than you and Tad which will allow ample opportunity for you guys to escape any potential suffering.”
Trixie looked at Tad. “He does have a good point.”
Tad laughed. “Okay, Mart. But remember, we’re going to hold you to your word, no matter how many ghosts we might encounter.”
“So, I can come with you?” exclaimed Mart, his eyebrows raised in a disgustingly pleading manner.
“Sure,” answered Tad.
“Excellent! I call shotgun.” Mart dashed to the door.
“Stop right there,” ordered Tad. “You are not riding shotgun because we’re taking your car. Mine is too low on gas. You drive and Trixie and I will sit in the back seat and we’ll be….never mind what we’ll be doing.”
Mart made a face and shuddered. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll drive and you two can sit in the back, but no funny stuff. I have to save my horrification tolerance for the asylum.”
Tad shrugged, “Suit yourself. Ready, Trixie?”
“Right behind you,” she replied as she shoved Mart aside.
The three hurried out of the apartment and ran down the stairs to the car. After a useless back and forth debate between Trixie and Mart about seat belts and foot room in the back seat, they pulled out and headed toward White Plains. Forty-five minutes later, Mart drove through the old, ornate wrought iron fence that surrounded the grounds of the century- old insane asylum. He followed a winding, crumbling drive until he arrived at a large structure surrounded by a muddy parking area and idle construction equipment.
“This is the main building,” explained Trixie. “I remember that from the website. But it looks way spookier in person.”
The main building was a large, brick, three- and- a- half storied structure with gabled windows along the top and annexes flanking each side. Scraggly, overgrown hawthorn bushes, weighed down with brightly- colored berries, covered the stone foundation where barred windows peeked out from behind. Crumbling stoops fronted doorways that had large pieces of plywood nailed over them. Grungy windows, with gaping holes marked by jagged edges of broken glass, stared coldly at the three. Scattered around the vast grounds were smaller buildings which, according to Trixie’s research, had been used as family cottages during the asylum’s bustling period. Beyond those buildings were other structures in various states of construction that would eventually become shops and eateries. Since it was later in the day, traffic around the grounds was almost non-existent and the construction areas were silent. The only sounds that permeated the peaceful area were the gentle breezes that wafted through the large willow trees and the trilling of small brown wrens. Mart pulled into the dirt lot, parked his car, then the three climbed out, the slamming car doors shattering the peaceful silence.
“Look at these buildings,” exclaimed Tad, turning slowly to capture all the beauty. “They’re amazing.”
“Yes, look at that one.” Mart pointed high up on the front of the main building where someone had painted:
“I assume he had to ventilate his internal emotions somehow, but spraying graffiti at that absurd height is ridiculous and inherently dangerous, '' noted Mart.
Trixie shivered involuntarily. “I bet this place is really creepy at night.” Looking at Tad, she added in a low voice, “Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out.”
Trixie studied the main building then the nearby empty cottages that had once housed the patients. Their windows were blank, but it didn’t take much for her to imagine old, decrepit ghosts, with manical smiles, peering through the wavy, leaded panes.
“Come on, let’s go see if we can get in the building,” urged Tad.
The three walked around the main structure and checked several doors until they finally found an unlocked one near a loading dock in the back.
“We’re in luck, this one’s open,” Trixie whispered excitedly.
“And why are you orating with such a discreet voice,” questioned Mart. “Afraid a spook or two might be lingering on these mysteri …” Mart stopped himself abruptly and shook his head. “I almost said the 'M' word. I meant to say … chilling premises.``
Trixie scowled. “Just open the door already. I’m dying to see the inside.”
Mart slowly opened the door, wincing at the loud squeak that accompanied the motion. He looked back at Trixie and Tad. “I should have known it would sound like that. I bet the floors creak and chilly, unexplained air currents will be gliding through the building.”
“Now who’s afraid?” taunted Trixie. “You know, Mart, you can always wait in the car.”
“No, he can't,” said Tad. “He has to run slower than us if we meet a ghost. Remember, that was the deal.”
Trixie snapped her fingers. “Gleeps! I forgot about that. Never mind, Mart. You stay.”
After slipping through the door, the three entered into a large room, warmed by the criss-crossing rays of sun that poured through the numerous bay windows, some of which were cracked and some of which had already been repaired. The old, hardwood floor was covered with shards of broken glass and piles of work supplies were stacked in the corners. Trixie, Tad and Mart quietly moved through the room, peeking into corridors that fed off it.
“I think I’ll see what’s down this hall,” said Trixie.
She tiptoed down a narrow hallway where she found several tiny rooms. A dilapidated metal door marked the entrance to each room and one tall window provided the room with abundant light.
“These must have been patient rooms,” murmured Tad, who had walked up behind her.
Trixie jumped. “Gleeps! Don’t do that. Stomp around and let me know you’re coming. This is one creepy place.”
“Hey, look what I found!” called Mart.
Trixie and Tad crossed the main room and went down another passageway where they found Mart standing in what had clearly been a shower room. Gaping holes, where plumbing had once existed, lined one wall while old, cracked sink basins lined another. At the end of the room was a tall window that overlooked a broad field. Rusty hooks dotted the length of another wall.
“I can’t imagine having to live in a place like this,” commented Trixie. “I like my privacy when I shower.”
Tad took her hand. “Come on. I saw a staircase when we came in. Let’s go see what’s upstairs.
The three cautiously climbed the old staircase, being careful to hold on to the ancient, carved railing. Upstairs, they found a layout similar to the floor below them, including narrow corridors with small rooms attached. Suddenly, Trixie called out,
“Guys, look at this!”
She pointed to a spot, in a corner and near to the floor, of one of the small bedrooms. The three knelt down and each ran a hand over a long series of jagged chicken scratches.
“Do you think somebody was keeping track of how long they were here?” asked Tad.
“Or counting the days till they got out,” suggested Trixie.
“Or, an even ghastlier hypothesis is someone was maintaining a record of the number of people they killed.” Mart offered the two an evil grin.
Trixie stepped on his toes. “Stop it. I know where you live and I’ll make your life hell.”
Tad added, “And I’ll help. Gladly!”
Trixie stared out the window and studied the grounds beneath her. Noting the sun’s position in the sky, she spun around.
“Let’s not waste any time. There’s a lot more I want to explore. Come on.”
The group went back downstairs, then followed another staircase that led to a lower level. Pushing through a metal door, the trio found themselves in a large room that was full of boxes, broken furniture, and old coal bins. Peering around a corner, Trixie found a door that opened into a small, dark hallway that ended at a short flight of steps.
“Guys, what do you think? Should we see where it goes?” she asked as she raised two sets of crossed fingers in the air.
“I’m game.” Tad shoved the door open further and the group carefully crept down the dark passageway and the stairs. In a tense silence, they set foot on an old brick floor that was part of a deeper, underground level. Barely any light permeated from the levels above so Tad pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight app.
“Gleeps!” gasped Trixie as she slowly turned in a circle. “Where are we?”
“I would say we have descended to another level. Did you not notice the stairs?” smirked Mart.
“What?”
Mart sighed. “You see, in some buildings there exists space beneath the basement called the sub-basement.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “I know all that. But…” she motioned around the dark enclave. “This. What was this area used for?”
The three stood in the middle of a small room that had three tunnels leading out of it in different directions. The tunnels were constructed with the same type of brick as the buildings. Two were dark but the third one, wider than the other two, boasted a lone lightbulb that hung from the ceiling.
“What do you think these are?” asked Trixie. “I don’t remember reading about any tunnels on the website. Do you?”
Tad shook his head. “No. But they sure are cool.” He walked around and peeked down each passageway. “I wonder what they used them for?”
Mart switched on his own flashlight and studied the area. “I have no idea.”
“Let me pull up the website on my phone and see if it mentions tunnels.” Tad scrolled through his phone, then switched back to the flashlight app. “No service down here. The walls of this place must be really thick.”
“Do you think inmates built these tunnels as a means of escape?” asked Trixie.
Tad shook his head. “No. These were built when the rest of the institution was built. Look, the brick matches and so does the architectural style.” He walked the perimeter of the room, checking each passageway. “Maybe they were used to transport food and other supplies.”
“I don’t know,” worried Trixie. “Maybe they used them to drag screaming and crying patients so nobody could see or hear them from the outside.”
“I see your illogical and unreasonable imagination is still with you,” remarked Mart drily. “I was hoping you’d left that in the car.”
Scowling, Trixie continued. “They may even have kept them shackled or something like that. I bet some never even saw the sunlight.”
Tad shook his head. “No, Trixie. Remember the rooms above us. They had huge windows. In fact, every single room had a large window with a good view. And your research pointed out that the general practice for the inmates was plenty of fresh air and sunlight. I bet this was just a convenience.” He knelt and studied the large, rusted iron pipe that ran the length of the tunnel, near floor level. “I bet they pushed steam through this pipe as a means of heating the buildings,” he said.
“You know what I think?” asked Mart, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I think we'll find an old laboratory down here. You know, like where they would practice the barbaric act of electro-shock therapy.”
Trixie punched Mart in his side, “Stop it. This place is creepy enough without you adding your stupid ideas.” She walked to the largest passage. “So, do we explore one of these tunnels or not?”
The three congregated at the entrance of the largest tunnel. Its floor was made up of the same construction bricks which, over time, had shifted, creating an uneven and treacherous path. The far-off lightbulb cast faint and indistinct shadows along the walls while another rusted, iron pipe traveled the length of the tunnel. The rhythmic sound of dripping water added to the dank, eerie feeling. Tad lightly tapped the damp bricks, seemingly lost in thought.
“I’m trying to remember the map I saw on the website where it showed how everything was laid out and how that might match up to these tunnels. I think if we go down this one, we could end up in one of the cottages.”
“We could also end up in the river,” suggested Mart.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “That would make this tunnel an awfully long one. The river is miles away.”
Tad chuckled, “She’s got you there, Mart. I can’t see any of these tunnels leading to anything except another enclosed space. If you think about it, why would they want the tunnels to lead to freedom? That seems risky to me if somebody was determined to escape.”
“So, we go down this one?” asked Trixie as she edged into the dark passageway.
Tad nodded.
Even with the one lone light in the tunnel, all three turned on their phones’ flashlights. They moved cautiously, avoiding the murky puddles of water that had collected along the brick floor and the random nails and pieces of glass. Nobody spoke as they crept along. Finally, their journey ended at a short, narrow staircase which the three carefully climbed. At the top was a metal door. It took both Mart and Tad’s weight against it to move the door, but it finally opened, creaking loudly in its resistance. Then the three stepped into a dark hallway.
“Just as I thought,” said Tad. “I bet if we go up that flight of stairs, we’ll be in one of the cottages.”
Holding onto the damp, metal railing, the three ascended another flight of stairs before arriving at a small landing. Peaking around the corner, Trixie saw a large room, similar to the central room in the big building they had just left. From her vantage point, she could see four bedrooms and a small shower room. Against one wall stood a large, stone fireplace. Beyond that, Trixie could see a small kitchen area.
She sighed. “This is definitely better than the first building we were in, but I still wouldn’t want to live here.”
Mart looked out the one large window. “I believe the residents of the cottages were better equipped to handle conditions and circumstances and also had earned a higher level of trust.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Trixie.
“Well, for one, I haven’t seen any chicken scratches on the wall. And second, if you noticed the windows in the main building, they all had hardware that would have held bars in place. These windows don’t have that.”
“Good eye, Mart.” Trixie moved next to her brother. “Look how spooky that big building looks from here.”
“And the late-day sun doesn't help. We should probably get going,” advised Tad.
The three went to the cottage’s door that led outside but, despite their best efforts, they were unable to open it. They tried another door but they were met with the same fate.
Trixie smacked her forehead. “I just remembered. All these doors were covered with plywood. Now what do we do? “Are we locked in?” Her eyes were wide.
“Of course not.” answered Tad. “We'll just go back through the tunnel.”
After descending the stairs, the friends crept along the passageway toward the main building. Mart and Tad paused to examine a number of old barrels that had been stacked in a dark, miniscule alcove while Trixie kept going.
“I bet they think they just found an old stash of beer,” grumbled Trixie. “And if that’s what’s in those barrels, I am not helping them carry them out of here.”
Seeing the tunnel and the lone lightbulb reflected in the dark, murky puddles, Trixie thought it would make an interesting photo to show Diana, who recently had become quite proficient in photography. Switching off her flashlight, she held up her phone, looked through the camera lens, then froze.
“Gleeps. What’s going on here?”
Trixie lowered her phone and looked at the shadowy tunnel in front of her. She saw nothing. But when she looked through the camera lens of her phone she saw dozens of green orbs flitting around the dark passageway. Some seemed to fly directly toward her and some appeared to bounce off the brick walls. Lowering her phone again, she only saw a long, empty passageway and the one lone light bulb. Looking through her camera, she again saw the small orbs.
“Tad! Mart! Come here,” she yelled.
“What is it?” asked Tad, running to her side.
“Look.” Trixie pointed at the passageway in front of them.
“What?” Mart squinted through the shadows. “The lightbulb? Yes, sister, that was a valuable invention made through the trials and tribulations of Thomas Alva Edison.”
“No. Much more than that.”
Mart groaned. “You saw something you think is mysterious, right?”
“Look.” Trixie handed them her camera phone.
First Tad, then Mart looked through the lens, then back at the tunnel.
“What are those?” asked Mart in a hushed voice.
Trixie shook her head. “I don’t know. They only appear when I look through my camera. But they’re all over the place.
Tad studied the passage in front of him through Trixie’s phone. “I don’t know what they are either, but I’m thinking it’s time to get out of here.”
“But…but how will we get through all those….those….things?” sputtered Trixie.
Tad studied the length of the tunnel. “I say we make a run for it. For all we know, we may have actually come through them on our way to the cottage but just didn’t know it. Anyway, we don’t have any other way out so let’s get going. But remember, as per our agreement and I think this qualifies, Mart has to go last in case they're ghosts or something.”
The trio now hurried along the dim passage, not bothering to wade carefully through the puddles or step around the pieces of glass. When they got to the main building, they quickly climbed the stairs then headed out the door through which they had entered.
“Phew!” exclaimed Mart. “I thought it would be cool to come out here, but I never thought I’d see something like….like… What did we just see? I’m not sure what that was. I think that, for once, words escape me.” Mart dragged his hands through his blond hair.
“I’d have brought you here sooner if I’d known that would happen,” Trixie noted, then shivered slightly. “ But I think I’m done with this place for today.”
“Me too” echoed Tad. “Let’s get out of here.”
The three exited through the loading dock then trudged back to the car. Mart opened his door, then scowled when he saw Tad opening the back door for himself and Trixie.
“Seriously,” he complained. “Wasn’t once enough?”
Tad looked at Trixie. “Is once enough?”
Giggling, she shook her head. “No.”
Mart held up his hand. “Stop! Just stop! If you’re going to sit in the back and leave me looking like an Uber driver, then just make sure you two sit on opposite sides of the car. Sheesh!”
Grinning, Trixie and Tad got in and buckled their seatbelts. Mart started the car and prepared to leave the grounds. But while the three had been exploring the buildings, someone had parked a work trailer across the entrance to the parking lot, effectively blocking them in. In addition, another work trailer sat on the road, making it impassable.
“Now what am I going to do?” wailed Mart.
Trixie twisted around in her seat. “I think there’s another entrance beyond where we parked. Maybe that one will be open.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Mart turned his car around and drove back through the dirt lot, easing his vehicle over the deep ruts and potholes. He was relieved to find an open entrance when he got to the rear of the lot. “Thank goodness.” He turned out onto the winding road, then stopped. “But how do I get out of here?”
Tad studied the area. “Try turning right.”
“But that will take us in the opposite direction from where we want to go,” argued Mart.
“Yeah, but I can see that the road to your left is pretty torn up. And if I remember correctly from studying the website, this main road winds all through the compound and eventually comes out at the highway. If we stay on this road, I think we’ll be all right.”
“We better be,” grumbled Mart.
He drove slowly along the winding road, staying in the center as the trees’ shadows grew longer. As he crested a small hill, Trixie called out suddenly,
“Stop!”
Mart slammed on the brakes. Tad looked at her, a puzzled look on his face.
“Why are we stopping?” asked Mart. “And it better not have anything to do with the word ‘mysterious.’”
“But I did see something.” She turned to look out the back window. “Just when you came to the top of the hill, I was looking out the window and I saw something.” She sighed. “Just back up a bit so I can show you.”
Mart backed up his car to the top of the hill. Trixie jumped out and studied the wide expanse of grounds in front of her. Then she pointed. “There. That’s what I saw.”
Tad and Mart looked in the direction she was pointing.
“What do you think that is?” asked Trixie.
Mart shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I’m fairly certain I’ll regret you seeing it.”
From their location at the top of the hill, the three could see a sheltered, brick stairway that led down into a small glen. Beyond the shadowy passageway was a large angel statue atop a heavy concrete base. With the sun setting behind the angel, its wings appeared to be aglow.
“I’m going to check it out. You two coming?”
Trixie started to run down the narrow, stone steps but the shifting and settling that had occurred over time impeded her descent. Ivy clung to the uneven brick wall that sheltered the steps and old, dead leaves huddled in the eroding corners. The smell of rotting flora lingered in the stairwell.
After treading carefully, she landed on the bottom step then stepped out into a large overgrown field. Giant weeping willows, their branches sweeping the ground, created dark niches that concealed small, chipped concrete benches. Wading through the long grass, Trixie noticed that the uneven ground was dotted with cracked, square marble bricks that were embedded in the dirt, weeds covering all but the center of them. Stooping down to take a closer look, she saw that each brick had something etched on it.
“What’s this?” She leaned down and brushed away dirt from one of the stones. “125,” she read.
“What?” asked Tad who had caught up to her. “125? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Following Trixie’s discovery, Mart also checked several nearby stones. “Hey, one of these says 101 and the other says 57.”
“That’s weird,” puzzled Trixie.
Standing up, she surveyed the area then joined Tad and Mart as they discovered more bricks. They also found several more broken angels and finally, a pile of broken and shattered headstones.
“Why would you plant marble stones in the ground?” wondered Trixie aloud. “What would be the significance?” Suddenly, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “I know what this is!”
“What?” demanded Mart.
“I think it’s the cemetery for the asylum?” She turned to Tad. “What do you think?”
Tad nodded. “That kinda makes sense to me.”
“Well, now I’m really ready to go,” declared Mart as he headed toward the crumbling stairwell.
Trixie wandered through the rows of stones while Tad knelt and inspected several of them.
“But they only have numbers on them,” she fretted. “ Why numbers and not names? Tad, do you think they were assigned a number when they came in and that number stuck with them through death?” She kicked at the ground. “I don’t remember seeing anything about this on the website but I’m going to make a point of asking the curator about it when I shoot my segment. I want to know what this is all about.”
“That makes two of us,” replied Tad.
“From what we’ve seen, these inmates were kept locked up, guided through tunnels and probably didn’t even have a decent burial when they died. This place is horrible.”
Trixie started to walk away but Tad stopped her. “Be careful rushing to conclusions, Trixie. We saw a lot of different things at this asylum but we don’t have a complete understanding of them. “
Trixie frowned. “You’re telling me to get all the facts, right?”
Tad nodded.
Trixie sat down at the base of the large angel and studied the overgrown and neglected cemetery. Tad came and sat next to her and for a few minutes there was complete silence. Even the songbirds were silent and the trees no longer rustled with the light breezes. Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted by the impatient honking of a car horn.
“Why’d you bring him anyway?” demanded Trixie as she shot a menacing scowl towards the top of the hill.
Tad shrugged. “I’m wondering the same thing myself.” He looked toward the western sky which was now turning bright shades of orange, crimson and gold. “Come on. It’s time for us to go.”
Helping Trixie to her feet, the two carefully made their way back up the stairs then got into the back seat of Mart’s car. Nobody spoke as Mart followed the winding road through the asylum compound. When they finally pulled out onto the main road, there was a palpable feeling of relief.
“That was interesting, to say the least,” said Mart. “Anybody hungry?”
“Actually, I could go for a strawberry shake,” said Trixie. She twisted in her seat and looked out the back window where the setting sun lit up the sky behind the buildings of the insane asylum, its’ dark windows still taunting her with their blank and silent stare.
“I could definitely go for something stronger,” answered Tad.
“I’m with you,” said Mart.
“Hey!” complained Trixie. “A strawberry shake is my quintessential comfort food. And I really need my comfort food right now.”
“Quintessential,” remarked Mart. “Pretty big word for you. I’m almost impressed.”
Trixie stuck out her tongue. “Oh, yeah. Well, we all knew who sat in the car while Tad and I checked out the cemetery.”
“My keys were in the car,” protested Mart. “And I didn’t want it to get stolen.”
“If that’s your story…” said Trixie.
“It is,” confirmed Mart.
Tad reached for Trixie’s hand. “First your shake, then back to the apartment. I can’t wait to get on the computer and read more about this place.”
“I know,” agreed Trixie. “But where do we start? Tunnels? Strange lights? Cemetery?”
“All three,” answered Tad. “All three.”
Back in the guys’ apartment, Trixie and Tad immediately got on the computer and pulled up the website for the asylum.
“Ok. Here’s the map I remember and here’s the main building so this,” he traced a line with his finger, “must be the cottage we were in.”
“Is there any mention of the tunnels?”
“Hang on a minute. I want to read about these cottages. Hmm. Mart was right. The less afflicted got to live in those smaller residences. I guess they were basically group homes.”
Slurping her milkshake, Trixie rolled her eyes. “You would have to say Mart was right.”
“He was.”
“I was what?” asked Mart who was relaxing in his massaging recliner with a cold beer.
“You were right about the cottages being less restrictive than the bigger building.”
“Natch. That assumption seemed to provide the most obvious answer.”
Trixie frowned at her brother, then tapped anxiously on the computer. “Now to find out about the tunnels.”
Tad searched through the menu but couldn’t find anything specific about them.
“Let’s look through the pictures,” suggested Trixie.
Sitting side by side, the two scrolled through the site’s photos.
“There,” said Trixie as she pointed to one of the pictures. “There’s a pic of one of the tunnels. I bet there are more.”
Scrolling slowly through the collection, Tad and Trixie found several more pictures of the tunnels.
“But there’s nothing written about them.”
Tad took a long pull of his beer. “I guess that will have to be one of the questions you ask your guide when you go out there for your segment.”
“If I can wait that long.” Trixie sipped at her milkshake. Abruptly she got up and disappeared into the kitchen with her milkshake. When she sat back down, she held a full wine glass in her hand.
“So, you decided to go for the strong stuff, huh?’ remarked Tad.
Trixie shrugged. “The wine will have to do. You didn’t have any strawberry pop.”
Tad sighed. “We really need to work on your definition of strong.”
Trixie took a sip of her wine. “Definitions are not by specialty. But by all means, discuss it with Mart.” She nodded toward her brother.
Mart sat up. “Don’t involve me in this discussion. I, for one, will not discuss the merits of strawberry pop since I am certain there are none in existence.”
“Whatever.” Trixie took another sip of her wine. “But I, for one, do know the merits of strawberry pop but won’t waste my time discussing them with you.” She made a face at Mart, who had returned to lounging in the recliner.
Tad closed the laptop. “Come on, let’s forget about that asylum for a while.”
Abruptly, Mart sat up and looked at the two with an incredulous look on his face. “Seriously, Webster. You should know by now that my sister never forgets anything. Not ever!”
NEXT
Author notes: A huge thank you for the Jix community who has encouraged me for the last 7 years! I’ve never met a group of people so willing to jump in and help, no matter what the trouble is.
I also want to thank my sister, Judith, for her editing skills. Nothing like having an English professor check your grammar!!!
And, a big thank you to Dianafan (Mary) for her assistance with anything “website related.
This story is based on my visits to the Traverse City State Hospital in Traverse City, MI and the Athens Lunatic Asylum, in Athens, Ohio. Both were in operation at the same time and both have had new life breathed into them in the same way the complex in this story has. Although I never toured the interior of the Athens Lunatic Asylum, it did have the odd cemetery. I have toured the Traverse City State Hospital and found it fascinating. I hope to do a night or a haunted tour someday.
McGuffey Reader-these were some of the first textbooks in the country that provided an increasing challenge as the student got older.
Uber - a ride service based in San Francisco.
The pictures are mine and taken at the Traverse City State Hospital.
word count - 7044 (9569 for total story)
background tiles from 