Through the pitter-patter of what seemed like rocks hitting the roof, and the howling wind, you could faintly hear that blood curdling shriek off, miles away in the distance, from that one night long ago.
15 years ago, there was a dark and rainy night just like tonight, where the howling wind was blowing the amber autumn leaves around like a dancing ghost. With me was my two best friends Zeb and Marco. We were walking through the dark woods of the Appalachian wilderness when we encountered an eerie building. I looked up towards the face of the building and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise as the cool winds pierced my skin like razors, and and an anxious feeling washed over me.
“Somethin’ bout this place don’t rub me the right way,” claimed Marco. He was always the first to point out a sketchy feeling.
“Oh stop being such a wuss,” Zeb whispered as we slowly approached the building.
The building was large and weathered, stains of orange and lighter red covered the massive brick walls. The building had 6 stories of windows, and at the top of the middle of the building there was an enormous steeple. On the wall to my left there was a terrifying message carved into the brick, reading: “Darro Lykas,” my name.
Marco then shuddered: “Well I’m officially terrified,” realizing what I was looking at.
“I know you boys are soiling yourselves as we speak but..”
“I ain’t scared!” Snapped Zeb, cutting me off.
“That wasn’t the point pea-brain, what I was trying to say was that this place gives me familiar feeling.. like I’ve been here before,” I said.
“Jeez Darro, what’ve you been smokin? There’s no way you’ve been here, I doubt a souls been here in a century.”
“Well then let’s go in and find out, shall we?” I say.
I receive a couple of reluctant nods from my friends. The massive door to the main entrance creaks on its rusted hinges as I push it open. A shiver runs down my spine as a strange feeling that it wasn’t me that was here, but my soul, washes over me.
“I’ve figured it out guys,”
“Figured out what?” Marco says timidly.
“My soul has been here,” I say flatly.
“What n’ the heck is that supposed to mean boyo?” Retorts Zeb.
“Jessie Maddison,” I say seeming to remember. “Jessie Maddison was my name in a former life,” I started spewing out information about the person, as my friends sat there in horror. “It’s all coming back to me now. If you two don’t believe me, there’s a file cabinet on the wall over there that has my record in it.” My friends grow even more terrified as there is a file cabinet where I said there’d be. They open it and find the file of the name I claimed there’d be. Both of their mouths drop in disbelief. They both are as pale as a couple of ghost. They look up at me in dismay. Both silently until Zeb says:
“What.. What are you?”
“I’m me,” I say. “This is simply just my soul remembering a familiar place.”
“This is insanity,” Marco says. “This can’t be, it breaks all science..”
He is cut off by a blood curdling shriek from a room down the hall. The three of us snap back into reality and we bolt for the door, bursting through and running all the way back to our houses. We never spoke of the night again, and didn’t really say much to each other after that night. However, now it is 15 years later and this is the first time we have all been in the same room together since that dreadful night. Of all the nights since then, this is the one we hear the shriek. An eerie feeling washes over all of us. The shriek feels like it is trying to draw us back to the insane place. It’s like, a siren of insanity.