The Madness of Silence

The distant loud laughter was heard throughout the halls and rooms of the old Victorian, which had seen better days in its own triumph and glory of yesteryear.

It had once seen much action and had been the heartbeat of parties and gatherings that were the talk of the town. Being the center of attention had its own good and bad days that were the pinnacle of rumors and gossip, spread like wildfire and made to be more than they actually were in truth.

It was the days when an insane asylum was the place for experiments and for torture that was soon to become outlawed but not soon enough to save those who were the guinea pigs of greed and of ones who claimed to have the knowledge and were only seen as experts on the surface.

The broken glass was shattered all over the floor, leaving the rooms that had the shattered glass covering them like they were a carpet filled with blood and with many other things that would make your skin crawl.

You had to have a sense of humor and be serious as you heard about and were told of such things that made the insane doctors look like the owner of an ice cream parlor, instead of the deviants that roamed the hills and valleys looking for victims to destroy with the jolt of a taser or the shock therapy they dished out to unsuspecting people.

The house had seen many people come and go. Either to their death or when they were married off to become part of a different more joyous life and their future. Yet part of the house went with them and that's when things would rise up and take upon a new horrifying presence. It was to become part of all who met it and it would take a vengeance and rain down upon those who were never told what all it could do.

First, the household would become ill, then the ones who did not recover fully would become pale and thin. Those that were stricken by the inner illness, were never able to remember what they had done, unless the spell placed on them was broken beforehand.

The many objects covering the doorways, the hallways, the rooms themselves witnessed what humas could never see with their eyes. It was as if the presence of the former owners guided the presence into the human world and yet unleashed them upon those who could produce and retrieve more to follow and devour.

It was this moment, while the bride was giving birth, a presence climbed into the bed, reached out and grabbed the woman and her unborn child, merging with them both then it vanished without a trace. The only evidence that was found was a pink ribbon and a lock of hair.

The Victorian was becoming more stronger in its power to trick and offer a way out as the treat. It would send out a promoter and a guide to search for those who were lacking intellect or were feeble minded and possibly sick. The walls were filled with remains of humans long since deceased, yet they were never found and were part of the local law enforcements missing case files, which grew larger each passing year.

The records only went back to a faithful calm silent day of August 21st, 1790, where the new inhabitants of the newly discovered town, were never told the oldest and still remaining structure was the Victorian house that everything else was built around it. It was the center point, and it was built on a long since forgotten burial ground.

It was to become the Pet Cemetery of human beings who fell victim to the ones who were awaken and never found their own eternal rest after being disturbed. The list of those who had lost their final resting place, were no longer happy because of greed and deception.

The local clergyman was not able to appease the ones who approached him and grabbed him into their abyss, while all that was heard were the screams as he was taken in and vanished.

Then in 1807, around the month of August, the early crop harvest festival, that took place to try and appease those who believed it would make up for the disturbance, those that arrived first at the event, were grabbed up and placed in the vortex that allowed the disturbed ones to come and go, with their victims, they too vanished without a trace. Only a pink hair ribbon and a lock of hair from the town mayor's daughter was found.

This was the medium of the moment, when those who witnessed the event happening, turned to stone and were unable to retell all that had taken place. Outside they were stone, but they were still living, breathing humans inside. It would be many years before anything could break open their caged selves. But by this time, the damage had been done, and they fell out alive, but the fresh air melted their bodies, and they were useless as a vampire in the day sunlight, with a stake through its heart.

From the years of 1824, 1841 and 1858, all misevents were at a stand still, the only ones who were affected by the disturbed, were pregnant women, their unborn babies and those who had perished by a mysterious illness called Tickled Glands. It was death by being tickled too much for far too long.

The symptoms were nausea, dizziness, sore throat and headache. No cure has ever been found to date. The other mysterious illness is called Tragic Blurting. This is when you shout obscenities and say things backwards before you fell over dead.

The one or ones you shouted at were also affected as they followed you and fell over dead. There was a scream from being in pain, their eyes widened and they spit up blood, then they too shouted things backwards, but only they would fall over dead.

It was the Victorian that repaid all those it disliked and was then given a warning label: Beware of those who enter, for your exit will be permanently delayed. You will be removed painfully, and you will go down kicking and screaming.

Then on the hundredth anniversary, the Victorian burped.