The Orchard and the Asylum

The sun had set and I was as good as dead.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. I wasn’t really in physical danger, but if I didn’t find my way out of here, I would have a heart attack by night’s end.

I was in an abandoned building, an old hospital, I believe, watching the shadows elongate across the dusty tile floors. The windows were high, spaced evenly along the western wall, with hard iron frames and bars, though if they were placed to keep things out or in, I don’t know. Old stretchers and other hospital paraphernalia littered the hallway, all gathering a thick layer of dust. The few rooms I had entered were Spartan; no windows, a single bare bed, a locked cabinet, and a mirror that was rusty and cloudy with shadows that moved in the setting sun, like there was something hidden inside of it. I noticed that all the doors were missing the handles on the inside.

As I stood watching the sun throw bloody beams of red light through the barred windows, wondered how I got to this point. I wondered how I could get so lost, where I had been so convinced that I knew my way around these parts. I had gone apple picking in this orchard every year from the time I could walk. It’s been ten years since I last saw the place but I was sure I could get around. I had gone back for nostagia’s sack, just to see the place I loved so much as a kid.

The orchard was thick with trees on the east side, but on the west side a plague had caused all the trees to wither and die. The east side was typical as far as orchards are concerned; fallen apples littering the ground, barrels dotting the neat rows. The west had certainly gone to seed; the trees had forgotten their neat rows and branches clogged the paths. Marking where the life ended in between the two sides was a scarecrow. He had been there for as long as I can remember. He looked out at the east side and his face was grim as if he was guarding the west side; like he was making sure everyone stayed on the east side, where it was safe. As I wandered through the trees in the late afternoon, I found myself standing at the base of his post. I chuckled at his appearance, wondering how I was so frightened of him as a child. I ignored his warning and continued walking deep into the west side. Before I was too deep into it, I was thoroughly lost. I tried to use the sun as a guide to find my way back east but I just kept getting more and more turned around. As I was beginning to panic I heard the sounds of children playing and with relief ran towards them, pushing branches out of the way. I followed the sounds of their voices until I was sure they were playing directly in front of me and all I had to do to see them was to push away a final low hanging set of branches. I burst through the orchard but there were no children. Only the base of a tall hill and a steep cliff over looking the town. I had to cover my eyes to look over the edge of the cliff; the sun had begun to set and it was burning bloody red right in that direction. I was able to discern that the cliff was far too steep for me to ever attempt to climb down. I turned around with a desperate sigh, my eyes flicking to various objects, hoping that I would recognize something and be able to find my way out.

I recognized nothing.

But the children were playing again. Now the sound was slightly farther away but clearer. I could hear them singing “Ring around the rosy”. I looked wildly around for a source but found none. Then my eyes rest upon a circular white tube poking out of the hillside. A tunnel leading through the hill. And this was definitely where the sounds were coming from. I rushed into the low tunnel, barely able to fit through. There was a shallow puddle of water on the floor and the walls were covered in mud and a sticky brownish substance I told myself repeatedly was not blood. I was thankful when a light bloomed ahead of me and I broke through the end of the tunnel just as the chorus of “Ring around the rosy” came to an end.

But there still were no children. There was, however, a playground. The machinery was all rusted and looked as if it had not been touched in a century. A lone swing squeaked frightfully as it moved back and forth in the wind. The see-saw groaned as the wind caught it and tilted it back. I walked very quickly through this playground, seeing a light glowing faintly a little ways ahead. The building it was coming from was tall, perhaps five or six stories. It was covered in ivy, as if nature was trying to reclaim it. The windows were horribly grimy, I could barely see through them. But I was able to see a watery, flickering light coming from the first floor. I rushed up the cracked marble steps, noticing that the building was made of red bricks underneath the tendrils of ivy. A frame of a sign was visible to the right of the door but plant life had so obscured it I couldn’t read what it said. I pushed open the double front doors and with a last glance at the outside world, entered the shadowy entrance area.

A piece of fabric, like the edge of a skirt, shot around the corner.

“Wait!” I called, chasing after it. I never saw whoever it was up close, only the dirty edge of a long white skirt as it stayed one step ahead of me. I couldn’t say how long I chased the skirt around the building but by the time I stopped, out of breath, I couldn’t tell which way was up, never mind out. And this is where I remained, watching the sunset and getting more and more frightened by the moment. I buried my head in my hands hopelessly, trying to calm down.

“Ring around the rosy…” A child’s voice whispered. The second I looked up it had silenced, making me doubt my sanity. But I remained very still and silent, waiting. After a moment it sang again. This time it did not stop. I rushed around the corner of the hallway, thinking that a child had gotten lost in this abandoned hospital as I had and it was her who I had chased around. It made sense in my twisted, fearful mind. I stormed into the room where the voice was certainly coming from, but there was no one inside.

“Don’t worry, I just want to help you.” I called out. There was no answer. I turned to leave, my heart pounding.

The door had shut.

It was just the rotting wood, I told myself. It’s not very sturdy, probably never stayed open. I reached for the handle. There was no handle. I remembered all the other rooms I had been in. None of them had handles. I clawed along the edge of the doorframe, trying to pry it open. But it was sealed tight.

“Somebody help!” I called out, knowing that no one could hear me. I was trapped in this hospital, no this asylum I realized with a jolt. I stopped clawing at the door, taking a step back. It was then that an icy hand clasped my shoulder and I never stopped screaming.