The Ghastling Submission # 2
In 1908, a young boy complaining of headaches, and thereafter, voices and beasts, was brought to the newly opened Pennhurst Asylum.
Relentless in his accusations of whispering evils, he was committed.
Countless terrors insured at Pennhurst, some given human accountability, others unexplained in their nature. Predictably, however, these unexplained terrors became a thing to fear when the boy arrived.
He would shriek and beg for mercy from the head splitting pain at the base of his skull, to which no wound could be found accountable. “A frontal lobotomy,” began his attending physician, “has been known to aid in the clarity of, and the quality of life for the individual.” he said, setting down a tool of a grisly nature, used, while the boy sat calmly for the first time in what had accumulated from days to years.
There after, with the boy in his bed, still and sedated in a scrambled prefrontal cortex type of way, unable to proclaim that the pain still occurred, his temples ached. Unable to announce that as the blood moon approached the pain grew deeper, stronger, more unbearable, unable even still, to grasp his aching skull.
For the next thirteen years, the employees of Pennhurst Asylum feared the blood moon.
Once a year, after their last round of bed checks, they locked themselves away as well.
Screams rang down the halls. Not the usual screams, the extra screams, the actual screams.
The screaming one did when filled with unequivocal terror.
The employees of Pennhurst Asylum crouched in closets and under desks with their eyes squeezed tightly shut, and their hands over their ears the night of the blood moon.
In the morning, with shaky hands, puffy red eyes, and tear dampened shirts, they cleaned what remained of those heard screaming.