Emily Parker wasn’t the one to back down from a challenge. With her college tuition climbing higher than her part-time waitressing job could manage, she found herself scanning obscure job boards late one night. That’s when she stumbled upon an ad for a night shift at the Crestwood Asylum, a long-abandoned mental institution on the outskirts of town. The job paid very well, promising $500 for one night.
“All you have to do is monitor the security cameras,” the ad read. “Easy money.”
Emily hesitated, then shrugged. The building’s eerie reputation didn’t faze her. People in town whispered about the asylum’s grim past, the unethical experiments, missing patients, and lingering spirits. But Emily didn’t believe in reputations based on rumours. Bills were real, and fear wouldn’t pay them.
The Beginning of the Shift
On the evening of her shift, Emily pulled into the asylum’s cracked and overgrown parking lot. The massive structure loomed ahead, its shadow stretching across the frost-covered ground. A faint wind howled through the broken windows, carrying with it a metallic tang.
She was greeted by a man named Roger, who appeared to be the facility’s caretaker. His hands shook slightly as he handed her the keys. “Just stay in the security office,” he said, his voice low. “Doors lock automatically at midnight. Don’t go wandering. And no matter what you see on the cameras, stay inside.”
Emily’s stomach flipped, but she nodded and walked inside. The security office was a small, windowless room filled with a variety of old monitors displaying black and white feeds from various parts of the asylum. Dust covered every surface, and a flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead.
At first, the shift was uneventful. Emily sipped her coffee and scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing at the screens. The asylum was as lifeless as expected, its empty hallways stretching endlessly, lit only by the faint glow of emergency lights.
Unsettling Discoveries
Around 1:00 a.m., something caught her eye. On the monitor displaying the east wing hallways, a faint figure moved at the edge of the screen. Emily frowned, leaning closer. It looked like a woman in a hospital gown, her back to the camera.
She rubbed her eyes. “Must be the wind,” she muttered. When she looked again, the figure was gone.
An hour later, another monitor flickered. This time, she saw the same woman standing at the far end of the west wing, facing the camera. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken. Emily’s chest tightened.
She reached for the walkie-talkie Roger had given her. “Hey, Roger, I think there’s someone here. A woman in a hospital gown. Can you check this out?”
Static.
“Roger?”
The walkie remained silent.
Emily stood, her nerves fraying. She grabbed a flashlight and opened the security office door, peeking into the dim hallway. “Hello?” she called, her voice echoing. “Is someone here?”
No response.
She returned to the monitors, her heart pounding. The woman was now in the south wing, standing directly beneath a flickering light. Her head tilted unnaturally to one side, and her lips moved as if whispering.
Then, the asylum’s power cut out.
The Asylum Comes Alive
Emily’s flashlight sputtered to life, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. The monitors went dark, except for one, which displayed a single word screwed in blood-red letters: RUN.
Emily stumbled back, her pulse racing. She grabbed her phone, but it had no signal. Panic set in as she heard faint footsteps echoing down the hallway outside the security room.
“Roger?” she called again, desperation creeping into her voice.
The footsteps stopped.
Gathering her courage, Emily stepped into the hallway. The air was frigid, and the stench of mildew and decay was overpowering. Her flashlight danced across the peeling wallpaper and rusted gurneys.
At the end of the hall, she saw the woman again. Only now, her hospital gown was soaked in blood, and her eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
“Who are you?” Emily whispered, taking a step back.
The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she raised one skeletal hand and pointed to a door at the end of the hallway.
Against her better judgement, Emily approached the door, her breath shallow. She pushed it open, revealing a small room lined with filing cabinets. Inside, a single folder lay open on the desk. It had her name on it.
The Horrifying Truth
Emily’s hands trembled as she flipped through the pages. They contained medical records, photographs, and detailed notes about her life, her childhood, her family, even her current struggles with tuition.
Her blood ran cold when she read the final entry: Subject will begin her trial on January 10th, 2025.
“Today’s date.”
“What is this?” she whispered.
A sudden memory hit her like a freight train. The week before, she had signed up for a psychological study to earn extra cash. The recruiter had been vague, but she hadn’t asked many questions.
The door slammed shut behind her, and the woman’s chilling voice echoed in the room. “They’ve been watching you, Emily. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.”
Emily spun around, but the room was empty.
She bolted for the exit, her flashlight flickering wildly. As she ran through the asylum’s maze-like corridors, the building seemed to shift around her. Hallways stretched infinitely, and doors led back to the same rooms she had just left.
“Let me out!” she screamed, banging on a metal door.
From behind her, a chorus of whispers grew louder. She turned to see a crowd of ghostly figures, their faces contorted in agony, advancing toward her.
The Final Revelation
Emily collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Why me?” she sobbed.
A familiar voice answered. “Because you signed up for this.”
Roger stepped out of the shadows, his face eerily calm. “Crestwood isn’t just an asylum. It’s a testing ground. And you’ve proven to be a fascinating subject.”
“What are you talking about?” Emily demanded.
Roger smirked. “You’re part of an experiment- one designed to study fear and survival. None of this is real, Emily. But your reaction? That’s very real.”
Before she could respond, everything around her dissolved into darkness.
Epilogue
Emily woke up in a sterile white room, her wrists strapped to a hospital bed. A group of researchers stood over her, their expressions clinical.
“She’s awake,” one of them said.
“Good,” another replied. “Prepare her for memory erasure. We’ll need her for Phase Two.”
Emily screamed, but no one listened.
Writer : Eva Jain
Grade : 9 (Year 2025)
Place : Virginia, USA
