It's just so dark here! It's to be expected, of course, long-abandoned buildings usually are. It's when they aren't that you should worry.... The architecture in question is one Saint Mary of Mercey, now a crumbling shell of a once prominent hospital.
Oh, it had been grand in it's day, simply marvelous! I had known it well, for, you see, it had been my father's place of business. He was head resident, and the patients had always been fond of him. That was, until the Horror came.
I had been all of eleven years upon this Earth, when the remains of Richard Greyson were wheeled in. Mr. Greyson had been pronounced D.O.A., and the police were only moderately sure that the corpse was, indeed, his.
Greyson had, it was surmised, been caught in a chemical fire when one of his amatuer experiments had gone awry. The fire was quickly contained by the small house's automated sprinklers, and Mr. Greyson had been such a recluse that it was a full three days before the body was discovered. They believe he lived at least twenty four hours from the infliction of his wounds.
Needless to say, the body was in much disarray. It was brought to the hospital, as was the custom in those days, for a complete autopsy. This procedure garnered startling conclusions.
Though in all outward appearances Mr. Greyson was a completely normal middle-aged American male, his internals had a much different story to tell. There was an unsettling lack of organs inside the man, and those that remained had mutated beyond recognition.
The death was deamed accidental, and the police went ahead and had the body interred, against my father's frantic protest. After the shock of the thing wore off, no more was spoken of the matter for quite some time.
My father closed the hospital a year later.
Oddly, though, he began to spend more and more time at the old facility. Always when confronted he claimed he was still clearing out all that could be salvaged before he sold the property, even though that had been accomplished some time before.
One night, my father was found strangled just inside the main hall. A local vagrant was blamed for the murder, and the hospital was sealed and left to rot. After my mother died two years ago I was going through an old chest I'd found in the attic and found my father's journal.
In it I read of my father's continued experiments on one "Remarkable subject" and Richard Greyson's name was mention more than once. That's when I decided to come here. The entries mentioned a room in the sub-basement, G-13. That is my current destination.
I leave this message here so that any who may follow me here will know why I ventured thus, and in the unlikely event that I don't return. I wholey intend to pick this up on my way out, though.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the main hall of the sub-basement, Oswald Carter found a gasoline generator that was still in working order, and rather well-maintained for having been abandoned for so long. He shrugged off the feeling of trepidation that had crept over him, and started the generator, pocketing his electric torch.
He stalked slowly down the dimly-lit corridor until he reached room G-13. He opened the door and was almost blinded by the brilliance within. This had been his father's lab for the two years prior to his demise, but still should not have been quite so well-off after fourty years.
A noise from behind startled Carter from the old books over which he loomed, and that which he saw was unbearable.
"O, God! Turn out the lights! I can see no more!" Carter screamed when his paralysis broke. There was motion in the room, and then he they were alone in darkness.
Oswald Carter never returned for his notepad.
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