New Norfolk Insanity

New Norfolk Insanity

Bang! I slam my laptop shut, having sent my report concerning the 'paranormal activity' at the New Norfolk Insane Asylum to the Derwent Valley Council. Officially, the report states I found nothing worth mentioning, a stray cat here, and a cold wind there. My house lights glare at me, for they know the truth; they know how the things that haunt Willow Court will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life; how they will continue to haunt me long after the Asylum rots into the ground.
I approached the Derwent Valley Council in the summer of last year, in the hopes I could document the 'goings on' occurring at the supposedly haunted, decommissioned Royal Derwent Hospital. Built in 1827, it was a place to house the mentally ill and handicapped persons of an infantile Van Diemen's Land. However, its purpose evolved with the military taking over at some point, using it as a barracks for invalids, before returning possession of the medical centre to the state government. The New Norfolk Insane Asylum was a place to dump the persons society deemed 'helpless', a respite for wounded soldiers and a place of rehabilitation and reintegration for those deemed mentally ill. The site was a hub of mental health care in the state, even up until November 2000, when it was closed, its assets sold and fenced off.
However, the fences didn't stop a few fire rats from creeping through the cracks and fulfilling their fantasies by setting fire to the facility. On two separate occasions arsonists laid siege to the old hospital, claiming the lives of several wards. The locals seemed to steer clear of it; I guess the stigma associated with being related to a former patient was still too much for them. The Asylum became a haunt for deviant youth whose 'art' covers walls, their images running in red paint, aired by the strategic holes they smash into windows. The Asylum remains a birthmark on the otherwise pristine Derwent Valley: the ghost of a shell of notorious psychiatric treatment.

* * *

The late afternoon sun fills Willow Court, pouring itself onto every surface and through every window. Already, shadows start to walk their way up the bottom of the clock tower, rising like the thermometers of every resident in the Derwent Valley did today. The humming of cicadas from the overgrown wilderness, already trying to reclaim the buildings, reverberates throughout the Court. The very buildings themselves seem to pulsate in time with the vibrating of the insects, distorting further in the warping, golden heat. With sweat running down my back, I inhale deeply. The heat scorches my nostrils, but not before I get the scent of decay permeating from the derelict Asylum. This is going to be a hot night, I think to myself, adjusting the camera equipment in my arms.
Three days! That's all I was given, three days. The Derwent Valley Council granted me permission for a three day investigation of the New Norfolk Insane Asylum, purportedly one of the most haunted places in Tasmania. But, when you take into account that not much paranormal activity takes place during the day; those three days equate to three nights. After years of petitioning, I have three days to get 'sufficient evidence of supernatural activity'.
"Well," I say to myself, "better get to work." I take the equipment, already gaining weight in the heat, towards the Asylum. My voice moves sluggishly through the air, like it is suspended in a thick broth, although I am too concerned with putting down the heavy equipment before my arms drop off. The council allowed me access to three of the wards, one of which bears the scars of arsonists. The footpath is a war zone of concrete and wilderness, and it looks as though nature is winning. Every step I take towards the first ward is treacherous; shell holes of concrete lined with leafy corpse's trip me up as I go. I make it to the few steps leading up to the front door relatively unscathed, having dodged the crossfire of man and nature; I place the heavy equipment down on the eroded concrete landing. 'WARD 5' the painted sign next to the door has seen better days.
I heave myself against the swollen wooden door, turning the council key in the old lock, surprised by the weight of it. The door scrapes open with a loud 'creak', a whiff of ammonia and stale air sighs out of the old building like a finale exhalation. If the outside of the ward looked bad, the inside looked... better.
The ward seems not to have even aged since the hospital's closing. Although the majority of furniture had been removed and the paint had faded slightly, the ward looked in perfect condition. Camera, I think, turning around to get it from the pile of equipment behind me. "Ah-huh!" I exclaim, fiddling with the settings as I turn to take my first documentation of the site. Lifting my eyes and the camera up ready to take the photograph, I freeze.
The interior of the ward has changed. Once immaculately maintained it has now eroded into disarray. Where there were polished floor boards, there are now holes, some bridged by sheets of tin. The faded walls are peeling and some appear to have scratch marks down them, others, running red paint. The entire ward has taken on a darker look. In the middle of the room an upturned wheel chair sits, its bent wheel turning like a warped record. Round and round and round...
"What are you doing in ward 5?" A croaky voice comes from out of nowhere. Startled, I swivel around on my heels so fast I fall backwards into the ward, landing painfully on my backside. Standing over me is a short woman, bent shorter with age, her face hidden by the sun behind her head. The sunlight dances around the edges of her frame, blurring the line between where she starts and the sky ends. Between those blurred lines, the woman stands with one arm drawn limply across her bosom, the tails of her cardigan tossed lightly by the breeze. I stare at her, she stares at me...
Slowly getting to my feet, already aware of the bruise forming on my bottom, I begin to answer the old woman. "Excuse me," I say, starting to brush the dirt off my pants. "I didn't hear you come up behind me, and-"
"You here about the spirits that haunt this place?" she cuts in, staring straight in my face, never blinking.
"Yes... H-how did you know?" I stammer, shocked by the question.
"Name?" she asks, barely blinking.
"Sorry?"
"Your name?"
"Ah, yes... sorry. Nick," I say, smiling and extending my hand warmly.
"Mildred," she responds automatically, not seeming to notice my outstretched hand. She isn't even looking at me anymore. She seems transfixed on some invisible point behind me in the darkness of the ward. Straightening herself up, her eyes widen. "Go home; forget about Willow Court before He finds out what you are doing," Mildred says and leaves without glancing back, her voice as low as the setting sun.
The apparition of Mildred and her strange words leave me feeling uneasy. For the rest of the afternoon, while I set up cameras and recording devices around the old mental hospital, I feel as though I am being watched by someone. I have a suspicion it could be Mildred, checking to see if I heeded her words; although, if it is Mildred, she is doing a fantastic job of hiding. Several times I feel there is someone standing behind me, only to turn around and find an empty doorway or the faded paint of the Asylum walls. As soon as I finish the last equipment checks, I leave the stark building and head to my hotel room, resting before the investigation that night.
"Paranormal investigation into Willow Court New Norfolk Insane Asylum, Electronic Voice Phenomenon session one, night one," I annotate to my voice recorder. My voice is stunted in the thick darkness of Ward 5. Everywhere I look, shadows seem to dart about the almost liquid black of the room, jumping from doorway to doorway.
"If anyone has something to say to me, you can say it now," I offer to the empty room. "Don't worry, I am here to help. Are there any patients here?" I pause the recording to play it back. As I lift the headphones to my ears, a loud procession of bangs resonates from the next room, almost as if someone is hitting their head against a wall, over and over. Probably just tin cooling off, I dismiss it with a shake of my head. At first there is silence on the tape, but when the recording comes to me asking if any patients are here I get something. I get an EVP over the top of my voice, a male voice saying, quite strongly 'Winston'.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound again; from just outside the room. The temperature is still very high, despite it being 12am, but it feels like the room just got 10 degrees cooler. A cold sweat breaks out as I lift my digital camera up, aim and shoot a picture facing the door. The camera flash illuminates the room in brilliant white, like an apparition of an angel. The evangelic light burns through the darkness of the night for a split second before being overpowered, leaving me swimming in a sea of night once more. Just for a second, before all the light fades, I think I see a patch of shade that refuses to budge, but it happens so fast I think nothing of it.
Get it together, I think to myself, waiting for the image to appear on the camera screen. It was probably just your imagination. A blank frame- that's what I initially think I have captured, until I take a more analytical look. Orbs, little white spheres of light, illuminate a section of the picture like the stars of the Milky Way. In one corner, a pale blue-white mist seems to be forming. I check the doorway to make sure it isn't the weather, it is not. Gotcha, I think, growing more excited at the possibility of finding something. There is a face in the mist. I didn't see it before, but sure enough, it's there. Small, pale and old looking; suspended just above the time stamp. There is something familiar about it...
The sound of footsteps from above interrupts my thoughts. My voice recorder revs back to life. "Were you a patient at the Royal Derwent Hospital?" I ask enthusiastically. "Was that your face in the corner of my photograph? Is that you, Winston?" I stop the recording with a click, take in a deep breath and start the playback. Silence, silence, silence... Silence is all I hear until a raspy voice, which sounds like it comes from behind me; exhales "Get out..."
The darkness steps closer, bathing me in its' anti-light; I feel damp from the concentration of the shade. If it was cold in the room before, it just got colder. The walls lean in towards me with outstretched arms. I get the feeling I am no longer welcome here. Polka music fills the space between shadows, warping and burbling like an old vinyl. The shadows dance around me, warping and stretching, shrinking and swaying. Before long I am joining them, turning round and round and round, the room starting to slip and elongate as I turn faster and faster.
"Stop!" As suddenly as it started, the music evaporates and the shadows melt back into the walls with furtive glances. The walls resume their normal guard and the room is filled with night light again. I freeze in place, my back towards the door. My eyes dart around the room, searching for the source of the sound but the walls are no longer animated; they give no answer. "Stop it. Leave him alone."
"W-what do you want?" I ask the cracked ceiling.
"I want you to stop talking to the walls like you belong here."
Snapping back to reality, I recognise the voice. Turning round slowly, my expectation is met with Mildred's wrinkled face. They are not the same neutral wrinkles I saw before. They are drawn taught across her features, a strange vigour sparking between the folds of her soft skin. Her look is stern, and yet slightly mothering. "Ahem- Mildred, what are you doing here?" I ask trying to sound professional.
"You need to leave," she says, her grey eyes flashing. "Leave before He finds out. Leave while you can. Leave before you get hurt!" She stumbles forward, almost collapsing into my arms.
"Alright," I soothe, "I will, I will. Let's get you home, Mildred." I take my voice recorder out of my pocket where I had put it while dancing and conclude: "Investigation into New Norfolk Insane Asylum, night one, interrupted and concluded following analysis of acquired data... and relocation of local intruders."
I turn off all the lights, cameras and various other instruments, making sure to take the laptop the data was being pooled into. I take Mildred by the elbow, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. I check the door before we amble to the frail old woman's house up the road. Slowly we walk home, her strength all but gone now. I guess I better do the same, I think to myself as I see Mildred inside, can't do a ghost investigation if I am dead.
I review the evidence from last night's investigation the next day, scanning over hours of footage and audio recordings. Most of the footage is of the same wall or empty corridor, and the audio recordings came up empty. Strangely, Mildred doesn't appear on film until she interrupts me. The silly old girl; I hope she doesn't interfere again.
Fumbling with the hand held camera, I turn it on and point it at a small torch in the middle of the room. "Paranormal investigation into New Norfolk Insane Asylum, night two, tactile interaction prop session," I say, turning the torch on and off, making sure it works. "In this session I will attempt to prompt the spirits to interact with the torch by turning it on and/or off."
Given the success of last night, and the interruption by Mildred, I decide to conduct another investigation in the same room as last night. The room is much colder than the rest of the building. I have set up a thermo-camera to measure any cold spots in the room. Already, it says that the room is 12 degrees lower than the current atmospheric temperature, and again I feel like I don't belong here. But, this time it is a different feeling; a deeper, heavier feeling is upon me, like I am ten meters under water and the pressure is pushing on my skull.
I take a deep breath, sigh and then begin the session. "Hello. It's me, Nick... From last night," My voice echoes around the room. "Is there anybody here with me that wants to communicate with me? If there are any spirits here, make the torch turn on to let me know..." I stare at the torch, it stares back. I am just about to give up and ask more questions when the torch winks at me briefly.
Excited, I continue: "Well done! Are you a former patient here? Turn the torch on fully for a yes, make it flash for a no." Within ten seconds, the small torch lights up, its beam slicing through the dank blue air. I turn the torch on and prepare for the next question, starting up the voice recorder. "Are you male or female? Flash once for male, twice for female." Torch blinks. Once. Twice. Three times...
A cold shiver washes over me like an arctic wave, leaving me dripping with the chill of the room and a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. It is like my entire being has been dipped in a vat of melancholy, an intense sadness grips me with its dead hands. The shadows start to wrap around me, cascading from the ceiling and seeping from the walls, cocooning me in disembodied emotions. My body aches with the immense weight of the emotion.
Through already forming tears, I try to look at the view finder of the camera. Pointing it around the room, I can see, within the vortex of darkness that surrounds me, faces; brief, misshaped faces stretching, half forming, glaring, weeping, and gnashing their teeth. They circle me like buzzards, waiting for me to fall to my knees and submit to their siege. They don't have to wait long. My knees begin to give way, like the weight of all the previous patients are all standing on my shoulders. I grip tighter to my hand-held, my only window into the world in which these beings operate. Through it, as I fall to my knees, all the faces have stopped circling me and float in place staring, back dropped by the still swirling darkness.
They have become stronger, their images growing more palpable on the tiny LED screen, though I still cannot see them. I can feel them, now; I can feel where they are. They float there, waiting for me to give up completely. I can feel them growing stronger as I grow weaker. I look for a way out, a way to defend myself from their psychological barrage. As I fall sideways, I spot the torch that has been on the entire time. It starts to flicker, growing brighter and brighter before starting to fade. The light dims, strangled by its stronger dark cousin. I, myself start to feel the cold hands of the darkness wrap around my neck, squeezing, slowly at first. Together, the torch and I begin to fade from existence. I hold onto the light with my mind; if it can survive, so can I. It starts to go out completely, though, and I feel myself slipping. Right now I teeter on the edge of a cavernous black pit that seems to go on forever...
My mind is all but silenced, the darkness fully consuming me, when I hear someone screaming. At first I think it is me, my last pathetic attempt at living, but I can hear it growing louder, coming closer. I know that voice...
"Nick!" it shouts. "Nick, wake up! Nick!" The ground stars to shake. Or is it me? It is me. I am being shaken. I can feel it now and the slap across my cheek. The hand feels cold and the skin loose, old.
"M... Mildred..?" I say weakly, trying to see where the old woman is. I pry my eyes open to see her face next to mine. Her features are veiled by black, like my eyes have been whitewashed with black. Behind her I can see Ward 5, illuminated in the moon light. Her lips start moving but I can barely hear what she is saying. The edges of my vision start to winkle and curl up, folding in from the corners as I slowly fade to black...

* * *

I don't know how I got back to my hotel room that night, or how Mildred ended up leaving a letter on my dressing table. When I woke up, I had pounding migraine and my body felt drained of all energy. In the letter that Mildred left me, she explained how she had found me unconscious in one of Ward 5's rooms. She apparently dragged me out and tended to me. She ended the letter with a warning to stay away from Willow Court. I would have headed that warning too, if it were not for the fact that all my equipment was there and all the evidence I had collected.
I went back for my third and final night at the New Norfolk Insane Asylum.

* * *

"Winston," I call into the dark ward. "Winston, I know you are here. Show yourself!" Another thud reverberates from somewhere in the building. The thuds have been going on for half an hour now. They started as small taps, but grew louder, angrier. As this is my final night in the decrepit building, I have decided to hold nothing back, stirring up the spirits if I have to.
"Come on, Winston! We both know you are making that noise. Show me something better than a few bumps on the wall." I taunt, hitting the wall a few times to emphasise how easy it is to make the noise. "You can't do anything else, can you? You don't know how because you are weak, worthless!" The sound of shattering glass goes off like a gun shot from within the darkness.
"That's better!" I grin, checking that the camera I set up facing me on a tripod behind me is still recording. I pull a tennis ball out of my pocket, brandishing it like one about to play a game with a dog. "Hey, Winston! Let's play catch." I lob the ball down the large hallway, as hard as I can. It stops, dead in the air, a few feet from my face. The ball and I lock eyes, a loud, muffled laugh comes galloping down the hallway towards me, accompanied by a wind of shadows.
The shadows swirl around me, like before. I can feel the energy draining from me. These shadows are angry at me now, I can feel it. They rush about me, brushing against my legs, arms and face. Everywhere they touch a burning sensation spreads across my skin. I can feel it inside me; deep, deep inside like the shadows are tearing at my core. The laughing fills my ears, echoing in my mind. Out of the darkness an indentation in the space starts to gain weight.
The shadows seem to pour into this spot, filling up the outline of a man from the feet up. I know it is a Winston, I can feel it. When the shadows fill out his face, his dark features are glaring with resentment, hatred. His eyes burrow through mine and into my mind; a million needles assault my brain. So this is what it is like to have a lobotomy, I think.
Now fully formed, Winston takes his first step towards me, his arm stretched out reaching for me. As his foot lands, the ground around him becomes polluted with an iridescent black like none other, glowing in its dark state. Winston tilts his head towards the still floating ball, considers it for a second and then snaps his head back to me, flicking the ball at me. I go to duck, but the ball hits me mid chest. It sends me flying backwards, colliding with the wall behind me.
My body is held in place by an unseen force so immense it is unimaginable. I struggle against it but there is no fighting the unseen. Winston throws his head back, his body rocking in deep laughter. But the laughter doesn't come from his mouth... It enters my mind from all around, seeming to be born from within my soul. His eyes lock on me again. He pushes me further up the wall as he walks towards me. Winston stands in front of me now, his rancid breath upon my skin. He lifts a finger to my chest, dragging it down from my collar bone to my navel. My skin parts like the red sea at his touch, blood seeps through my shirt in oceans. I choke in surprise.
He continues, enjoying every drop of blood he spills. Beginning to feel faint and completely devoid of all hope, I turn my eyes towards the other end of the hallway. There! There is something, no, someone there. What's that in their hand? A... a cross. Their lips are moving... what are they saying? I can't make it out. Whatever it is, Winston doesn't like it. Turning with a snarl, he tosses me across the room, knocking my head against the ceiling. The last thing I see is his dark form charging towards the light.

* * *

That light was Mildred. She was a nurse at the New Norfolk Insane Asylum before it closed down. She told me how Winston, even back in her time at the establishment, was well known by nurses and patients as a male hating ghost. When I asked her what she did, she said she helped Winston like one of her patients.
I decided it would be best not to tell the Derwent Valley council the full story, they wouldn't believe me anyway. Who would? They are only going to tear the place down anyway.
What was that? I could have sworn the lights just... Why is it so cold? "W-Winston? Is that you?"
A cold voice whispers in my ear, "welcome to insanity."