The Warden's House

The mystery and turn of time is ever present
Captured, preserved, endless within these historic buildings
Abandoned they remain, yes. Still they are timeless.
The damp heavy smell of asbestos reeks from the shredded wallpaper
Where the spirits of the insane dead once clawed at, ripped at.

A creek in the floor...
The ancient and worn wooden boards whine tiresome under our feet
A squeak in the door...
Shattered glass and splintered wood amidst the broken brass knobs

Scattered across the dusty floorboards are yellowing book pages and papers
The letters date back to the early ages of the the nineteen hundreds
The rotted banister leads up to the hot aired, heavily enchanted attic
Broken chairs and cabinets have been casted and thrown about the room
The air up here is oh so tight, it is difficult to breathe, lets go down...

Descending the rickety staircase, there is a clear view of dried blood on the wall
As if someone one had a most unfortunate step down the steps and knocked their head
This must surely be blood after all, for its dried an almost black crimson
There is no answer to such poor evidence, only inferences can be made.
Most curious indeed...

The kitchen still seems in good condition, despite the smoldering counters
Although, it is quite odd that even though the entire room is obviously aged
The curtains remain hanging as if they were brand new, oblivious to time
Intriguing how the fabric does not appear to have experienced wear and tear.

The white boards swing carelessly and loosely from the walls where they belong
Faintly indicating the proper time and amount of medication followed
The correct procedure that should be issued by the local warden of Letchworth Village
In desperation for fresh air I walk out the broken doors covered with poison ivy
The others proceed down into the depths of the darkened basement while I wait outside

Soon they come running out in complete fear with wild shock still on their faces
As they describe the horrible stench emaciating from the laundry room
The acknowledgment of crimson, blood stains on purely white towels in the hamper
A confirmation of the smart choice I made to wait outside when they went down.

Still the terrible events and crimes that were committed within these walls
Will never be revealed, only remaining untouched by fearful visitors
Awaiting the rush and thrill from the hauntings at this abandoned asylum.