Sunday, July 15, 2012


She's let me go.

I don't know what happened. I've read the account here and...I remember that happening. The strings wrapped themselves around her and she...she became something else. She became the Wooden Girl.

I don't know how, but she did.

I could feel the strings wrapping around me again. I knew I wouldn't be able to move or talk or even blink unless she decreed it.

But she just let me go. I felt this searing pain and then I was back at Shady Lawn. In Grace's room.

And there was Grace. The Wooden Girl.

"Why?" I asked.

"We had a deal," she said. "You saved Grace instead of yourself. Grace was saved." She took a bow. "And now you get to go. I always keep my promises, after all."

I sank to my knees as the strings withdrew. "What about-" I stuttered. "What about the others? All the ones that were eliminated or saved? What about them?"

She looked at me. I tried to see a glimmer of Grace, but I couldn't see any expression behind that mask.

"Any who got away, I'll let go," she said. "Any who stayed...they are mine to keep. Goodbye."

And then she was gone.

I don't know what to do now. But I know what Grace would want.

I've let all the patients out of the building, all the ones that were left. I taken all the files that were in Dr. Beakman's office. I'll probably mail them to the FBI in the next few days.

And then I started pouring gasoline around. One of the patients helpfully provided me with a match.

We all watched as Shady Lawn burned.

I don't know what's going to become of me. I don't know where Beakman went or if he'll be arrested. Probably not.

Bad people are never punished. And the good suffer and become twisted.

I'm going to leave this place and never come back. I'm going out and never stopping.

And if one day, I meet Grace again?

I'll beg for forgiveness.


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

She's gone.

After you guys solved the last riddle, I wondered what they were going to do. I mean, the riddles all have something to do with my..."punishment," right? The smoke led to a fire, the cupcakes led to those razor-bladed unicorns. And now that the answer was "light," I wondered what the heck  was going to happen to me.

It was worse than I anticipated. The next morning I woke up blind.

How the hell they did that, I have no idea. I couldn't see a thing. I had to call 911 and when a doctor looked at me, he said that it was a case of "conversion disorder resulting in somatoform blindness" - what they used to call "hysterical blindness."

This wasn't psychosomatic. This was real. I couldn't do anything. I was in the hospital for about a month and then...then it went away. I could see again.

I went back to Shady Lawn immediately.

It was worse than when I left. The building itself looked...diseased. And it was so quiet. The hallways were dark, since the lights had been broken. The "P"s and "E"s that had been painted on several doors were smeared. I checked in on some patients and they all looked asleep. I couldn't see any other doctors or nurses around.

And then I checked Grace's room and saw that she was gone.

And in her place was a note:


And two files.

Patient 1: Grace Smith

Condition: Dissociative Identity Disorder

History: Ms. Smith came to us after a psychotic break. In her childhood, she would imagine herself to be another person, "Karen," with a brother named "Derek." "Karen" would take all her bad memories away, while "Derek" would provide an escape from loneliness. As she grew up, "Karen" became "Kevin" and her mind began working through her problems, eventually "killing off" Derek. This proved too much for her fragile psyche, however, and "Kevin" took over completely. We have successfully dealt with the "Kevin" persona and brought back Grace.

Patient 2: Robert Zanetti

Condition: Low self-esteem

History: Mr. Zanetti came to us for a job and we have provided him one as an orderly. He suffers from extremely low self-esteem - despite having a degree in English, he has instead worked a series of menial jobs. But perhaps we can put him to good use.

I...I'm supposed to choose between Grace and myself?

How? How am I supposed to do that?

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Next Riddle

A sticky note with a riddle was left on Grace's door this morning. I woke up (not sure how I fell asleep to begin with in that fucked up place..) to find patient files dumped in my lap and a very grumpy looking Mr. Bun glaring at me. Fuck, those stitches are creepy..

The riddle:

Wzzv ez esp mprtyytyr, mlnv ty esp oljd hspy Rclnp hld hszwp lyo Vlcpy hld detww ty stotyr. Espcp, jzf htww qtyo jzfc dtxawp ctoowp. Dzwgp ez xlvp esp Zcopcwj awlj zynp xzcp. Tryzcp zfc xpddlrp, lyo xzcp htww otp.

Patient 1: Ruby Walsh

Condition: Trichophagia

History: Ms. Walsh started eating her own hair when she was in her early teens. It became something of an obsession with her, culminating in an operation where a trichobezoar had to be removed from her stomach. As a consequence, Ms. Walsh insists that that her head be shaved every month.

Patient 2: Lee Smith

Condition: Paranoia and hypochondriasis.

History: Mr. Smith was admitted to the hospital in 2003 for a herniated disk. During his stay in the hospital, he became increasingly paranoid that he was being observed and that the doctors were administering various diseases to him. Subsequently, he was deemed mentally unfit and transferred to the psychiatric department and subsequently to Shady Lawn.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

No, I'm Not Dead

Grace isn't doing so well..

They've shipped off half of the fuckin' inmates here. Every other cell is just empty, rotting from the inside out with claw marks up and down the sides. Some blood's splashed around theatrically, but I'm not sure what's blood and what's paint. Why would there be paint? Because the bastards, the Misfits, have been fuckin' around with us in their off time and throwing the paint around to make us think there are victims nearby. If someone's wounded, we're supposed to at least try to help them. These days, though..

We don't go past a hallway or two on our own without going in doubles, never coming or going without a group when we leave to go home. Matty's tires were slashed a few days ago. When he bent over to look at the damage, he got a switchblade between the ribs. Someone thought that was REALLY funny. Since then, well, we're a bit more careful. More jaded. None of us dare to stay home after what happened to my apartment.

I'm rambling again. Fuck, I've been afraid to post, afraid to even look at this blog. I just sit on my rusty little folding chair outside of Grace's room, checking on her on the hour, looking around nervously. Hoping I won't get singled out again. So long as I'm her "Guardian", I've been able to avoid getting hurt. The drawback, though, is that I haven't been able to save anyone. No riddles left for me means, well, I don't know.

I'll figure it out. I think they're fucking with us now..

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Uh, guys? A little help here..

I found Grace last night, slumped over on her bed and unconscious. She was bleeding from the mouth, the blood was everywhere. There shouldn't have been anything in the room for her to harm herself. I.. I panicked. I started screaming, calling for help and the doctors on staff to come look at her. I grabbed a blanket off the chair by her bed, wrapped her up and held her while we waited for somebody to hear us. I know I wasn't supposed to, I know I probably messed up a "crime scene" or some shit. I didn't care.  Dammit, she was shaking and she looked sick to boot. When I looked closer, I figured out where all the blood was coming through. Her bottom lip was bitten through, though I have no clue if it was deliberate or not. She looked so miserable. I just had to hold her. I'll probably get some kind of a meeting with Dr. Beakman later over it.

She's.. okay now. She's in a room a little farther away from the others for now, and I've (so far) been assigned to look after her until we know more about what's going on. I'll still have my rounds, but it's been strongly suggested that if I want to "protect" her so badly, then I need to try a little harder to do so.

Teofilo's door has a giant blue P on it. As with all the other times, no one will talk about it.


There was a riddle waiting for me when I got home from all this insanity, with another two patient files beneath it. I suppose this is serious time. 


Patient 1: William Hogarth

Condition: Suffers from intense paranoia and delusions

History: Once worked in criminal justice. Following a string of gruesome murders, he was arrested by the police. Hogarth maintained that he did not kill anyone, and that a whispering monster had done it. Because of his belief, he was institutionalized. After about a month, he was transported from England to the United States, and placed under Dr. Beakman's care in Shady Lawn Sanitarium. He has begun to slowly recover from his condition.

Patient 2: Jasper Oakley

Condition: Comatose. Repeats words that people say and responds to stimuli via attempted mimicry.

History: Father of two children. His wife died in a car accident last year. Reportedly, he became an alcoholic soon afterward. Entered into his comatose condition around the beginning of the year, after he was found unconscious in a lake, where it is believed be tried to drown himself.

Saturday, April 28, 2012


One of you solved the riddle while I was at work. Thank you for that. I'm sorry for not responding sooner. I finally hauled my ass in to work. Proxiehunter, to answer your question, some of the doors now have giant red "E"'s on them. The rest of the staff have unanimously decided to ignore them. I even tried directly asking people about them, to no effect. No one will admit they're there.

Forgive the terrible pun, but it's beginning to feel like a madhouse in here. The crazies (fuckin' Misfits) are running around doing whatever they want, while the rest of us are stuck trying to do our jobs. Cleaning up after their messes, letting Grace into random rooms and sneaking her out after curfew to go on wild goose chases. Why? Apparently if we don't, Dr. Beakman brings us into his office and "talks us into helping."

I'm skeptical. I know the people that work here, and some of them wouldn't be helping ICP rejects run around making the situation worse on the rest of us. I think maybe he has something over the staff's heads or a way of convincing them.. I don't know. I haven't been called in. I HAVE gotten a few mutterings about pushing you guys to solve the riddles faster so we'll get a break at work. To whoever answered the riddle last night, thank you so much for doing it while I was at work. I wasn't looking forward to another fire.

I opened a supplies closet only to have a cascade of rainbow colored My Little Pony dolls fall on my head. It wouldn't have been so bad, maybe even funny if it weren't for the razor blades stuck in their sides. You heard me right. The damn things cut me pretty fucking deeply. Some were decapitated, itsy bitsy little nails were shoved in a few of their hooves, and most were covered in fake blood. At least.. I think it was fake blood.. I never thought ponies could be horrifying until I saw about thirty of THOSE fall on me.

What do ponies have to do with "cupcakes?" Is this some kind of punishment for the players not choosing an inmate to Protect? For my not wanting to play? Or is Jester just the creepy little bastard we all think he is, and this is just another pointless game while he wastes our time. He HAS to have a point here.. what is it? AND WHAT THE HELL DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH PONIES?! Ugh. Fuck this.

The riddles have been solved, and I'm off of work and about to crash. Players, please do me a favor and choose which inmate you want to save.