Sunland

Guy stared over the shoulder of the girl perusing back issues of The FSView on the computer screen in the student newspaper’s office. She scrolled downward slowly, intent on reading every word of the articles related to the Sunland Mental Institution, a now-abandoned hospital that once housed mentally retarded children in the sixties and seventies.

"Jingle, why are you so interested in that hospital?" he asked. Both freshmen at Florida State University, they had joined the staff of the FSView. They met at the first staff meeting and hit it off instantly, sharing each other’s twisted sense of humor and love of indie rock groups. They complimented each other as well—while Guy was quiet and cautious, Jingle (short for Julie Ingle) was outgoing and free-spirited. Guy liked her; she had a charm that drew him in and kept him captivated.

"I’ve got an idea," Jingle said excitedly. She twisted her chair around to look at Guy. "It’ll be a great feature article for The FSView." Her eyes shone.

"And what’s your idea?" Guy asked, pulling a chair up next to her.

"In past articles related to Sunland, all that is given is history on the place, a mention that it might be haunted and some quotes from students who’ve been there who claim to have seen ghosts. Well, I was thinking of writing an article that had all that in it but also adding another part to it, chronicling my experience in the hospital."

"I never knew you went there," said Guy, intrigued. "When did you go?"

"Well, I haven’t gone—yet."

"What are you talking about? You can’t possibly mean…" Guy trailed off and looked helplessly at Jingle. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "Are you crazy? Have you heard about all the shit that people have seen or heard over there? Not a good idea." She just sat in her chair looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, it’s all hearsay until I experience it for myself," she said. "As far as I know, it could be a harmless old building with a few rats that reside there."

"I know about that hospital," Guy said. "Even if the paranormal rumors aren’t true, there’s still the threat of asbestos poisoning as well as arrest for trespassing. And you can’t go by yourself. Who would you get to go with you?"

"That’s where you come in," Jingle replied, a mischievous grin playing across her lips.

Guy stood up. "No way. NO WAY. I’m not chancing possible arrest for a story. You’ll have to find somebody else."

"Oh come on," Jingle said, standing up and facing him. "Two journalists’ sojourn into the depths of the haunted Sunland Mental Institution? It makes for a great story. Besides, I know you’re curious about the place—don’t tell me you aren’t. A part of you wants to find out if those rumors are true." She looked at him questioningly. He averted her gaze; she was right.

"Look, we’ll only be there long enough to hit up the hot spots then we’ll leave. And we’ll park far enough away so we can walk over and not arouse any suspicion. What do you say?"

Guy looked back at her. "What hot spots?"

"I want to check out the basement," Jingle said, getting down to business. She walked back over to the computer and scrolled over the article. "It supposedly has a morgue and a crematorium from when it was a tuberculosis hospital. And I want to check out the third floor. It was where the children were kept for punishment—sometimes left there for days on end."

Guy shuddered. He didn’t want to venture near Sunland but if he didn’t go with Jingle, she would go by herself—she would do anything for a good story. He knew if he let her go alone he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to her. He sighed in resignation.

"When?"

Jingle’s eyes lit up and she turned around to face him. "I got an email from my professor saying that my evening class was cancelled. Do you have class or work tonight?"

"No."

"Great," said Jingle, shutting off the computer and gathering her books. "Meet me at my apartment at ten. We’ll ride over there together." She moved in close to Guy. "It’ll be an evening you’ll never forget." She was about to walk out of the office when Guy stopped her.

"Wait," he said. Jingle turned around and looked at Guy inquisitively. "Did you run your idea by the features editor yet?"

Jingle smiled. "Did it this morning. See you at ten." She walked out.

* * *

As they drove over to the mental institution, Jingle babbled incessantly about the stories she read detailing students’ experiences with the place. She tightly gripped the bag that contained her flashlight, tape recorder and cell phone as she spoke.

"Some kids said they heard a little girl jumping rope," she said. "They also heard high-heeled shoes clicking on tile." Guy set his jaw and turned onto the Blair Stone Extension He was silent.

"They also say that you can hear moans and see lights, even though there is no electricity," she continued.

"Maybe it’s the light from a streetlamp or something across the street," Guy offered.

"That’s what others have thought but people who have seen the lights claim that they were too bright to be a reflection. In some cases, the lights even flashed on and off and when the witnesses looked across the street to see if it was a reflection, they found that the street lights weren’t flashing." She pointed to a McDonald’s that was just before the intersection of the Extension and Phillips Road. It was open 24 hours. "Park there and we’ll walk."

Guy obeyed and pulled into a spot at the end of the lot, near the back of the restaurant. He shut off the car and turned to look at Jingle. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. He saw a brief moment of hesitation wash over Jingle’s face and then fade quickly. She smiled confidently.

"Of course," she responded.

"Alright then," said Guy, getting out of the car. Jingle followed suit and they began the trek to Sunland. The walk wasn’t long, only about a half-mile or so and before they knew it, they were standing before the eight-foot fence that enclosed the hospital. It was a muggy night; the thick air seemed to envelope them. Guy felt beads of sweat start to form on his forehead.

"Wow," said Jingle as she surveyed the property. The five-story building loomed in front of them like it was trying to intimidate them into leaving. The lawn was overgrown with kudzu and weeds. Guy shuddered. A sense of dread filled him, but he didn’t try to dwell too much on it; he studied the fence instead.

"Great," he said. "How do we get in?" Jingle pulled her flashlight out of the bag and shone it on the fence. She walked a few yards then stopped and waved Guy over.

"There’s a hole just big enough for us to squeeze through," she said. After pushing her bag through, she shimmied through the hole until she was on the other side. "Come on," she said. Guy hesitated for a moment before following suit. Once he was on the other side, he made a quick scan of the surroundings to make sure nobody had seen them. The only thing he saw was darkness. When they got closer to the building, Jingle stopped and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket.

"What’s that?" asked Guy.

"It’s a map of Sunland," she responded. "I found it online. If this is even remotely accurate, then there should be an open entrance just beyond…" she looked up and shone the flashlight in what appeared to be a depression in the ground. "That ditch in front of us."

"A ditch? Shit," Guy said. "Do you know how deep it is?" Jingle shook her head no. Guy sighed. "Guess we better find out." The two made their way over to the ditch and shined the flashlight beam on it. It was dry and like the rest of the property, it was strangled with weeds and kudzu. It wasn’t deep.

"We can walk across," Jingle said. It didn’t take long and soon they found themselves in Sunland’s main corridor. Graffiti from previous thrill-seekers littered the walls; slogans ranging from "Fuck Miami" to "Hell lives here!" were tattooed on the once clean white plaster. Pieces of ceiling covered the floor and the air was thick and as muggy as the night outside. It nearly made Guy choke.

"This is so cool!" Jingle exclaimed. "Like something out of a horror film." She shoved the flashlight into Guy’s hands. "Here, hold this," she said, rooting around in her bag. She pulled out the tape recorder and pressed the record button. "Maybe we’ll hear something."

A minute or two passed and the only thing that they could hear was the quiet hum of the tape recorder. Guy switched the flashlight to his other hand. "No flashing lights or strange noises yet," he said.

"Still, though, you have to admit that this place is pretty creepy—even if the ghost stories aren’t true," Jingle said. She looked at Guy and then that mischievous smile once again appeared. "Kind of gives you a rush being in here, doesn’t it?" She moved close to Guy until their faces were nearly touching. "Pretty exciting, isn’t it?" He could feel her breath against his face and wondered what she was getting at. She took the flashlight from him and set it, the tape recorder and the bag down on the floor side by side. The flashlight’s beam enveloped them in a soft bubble.

"What are you talking about?" asked Guy, puzzled.

Jingle played with the hem of her shirt and smiled wickedly. "Tell me something, Guy, what’s the craziest place you’ve ever wanted to do it?"

Guy furrowed his brows and tried to figure out what she meant by the question. All of a sudden it sunk in and he raised his eyebrows. "What? Here? Are you insane?" He had often fantasized about having sex with Jingle, in various places no less, but the Sunland Mental Institution was out of the question. He looked at the floor disgustedly. She had to be kidding.

"Why not?" asked Jingle, taking off her white tank top and dropping it on the floor. Her breasts were practically falling out of her tan push-up bra.

"Well, it’s creepy as hell and dirty," replied Guy, watching her take her bra off and desperately trying not to get aroused. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on Jingle’s upper torso, making her breasts shine in the flashlight beam. "It just doesn’t put me in the mood."

Jingle walked over to Guy and moved in close. With one finger she traced the outline of his left cheekbone. "Live a little," she whispered, pressing her lips against his. As she kissed him, Guy forgot all about where they were; the only thing he was aware of was how good she tasted. He began to kiss her cheeks, neck, shoulders and any other patch of bare skin he could get to. He heard a moan and chuckled.

"We haven’t really done anything yet," he said, playfully. Jingle’s body froze.

"That wasn’t me," she whispered, eyes wide. They stood stock-still and listened. The moan sounded again and then it was joined by a scream. The sounds began to pick up in volume. Jingle tore away from Guy and began to put her bra and tank top back on, all the while the moaning and screaming getting louder and louder until it was all around them. Guy scrambled for the flashlight, tape recorder and bag.

"Let’s go check out the basement!" Jingle said, straightening out her tank top and grabbing the tape recorder from Guy. She had to shout to be heard.

"What? You still want to explore this place?" Guy shouted back, incredulous.

"Yeah!" Jingle took out the map and studied it under the flashlight’s beam then turned around and pointed towards the end of the corridor. "There’s a stairwell over there!" They made their way to it through the sea of moans and screams. At one point it sounded as if someone was right beside Jingle, moaning in her ear. She turned around and searched wildly to see if anybody else was in the corridor with them. Guy shined the flashlight in the direction she was turned.

"What?" he asked. Jingle shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. "I thought I heard someone. Right next to me."

"Sounds like a lot of people are right next to us," Guy said. "Let’s keep moving." They made it to the stairwell entrance and when Jingle got ready to open the door the moaning and screaming stopped. The sudden silence made Guy flinch.

"The silence is almost as loud as the noise," said Jingle. Guy nodded. Jingle flung open the door and they started down the stairs, their footsteps making an unearthly echo against the concrete. When they got to the bottom, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling greeted them, sending out a white glow.

"That’s weird," Guy said. "I thought this place didn’t have electricity."

"It doesn’t," Jingle said. Suddenly the bulb went out and she yelped. "Sorry," she said. Guy tested the door leading into the basement and found that it was unlocked. He pulled it open.

Cobwebs dusted their heads as they walked in. Since there were no windows, it was pitch-black and the flashlight beam only illuminated three or four feet in front of them. When Guy shined the flashlight to the right, he could see a huge iron door. As he and Jingle walked closer, he could see that the door was part of a medium-sized brick structure; a shovel leaned against one of the sides. It was the crematorium.

"Creepy," Jingle said, running her fingers along the door’s handle. She gave it a pull. It wouldn’t budge. "I wonder what’s inside."

"Probably nothing," said Guy. "If there is stuff in there it’s probably just debris."

"Yeah," Jingle agreed. She turned around and squinted into the darkness. "I wonder what’s on the other side." Moving slowly, they began their way across the floor. At one point a large metal table materialized and Jingle nearly ran into it.

"Careful," Guy warned. After dodging a few more metal tables they were close enough to shine the flashlight against the wall, revealing rows of large drawers. A closer inspection found that the drawers also ran along the wall directly across from the stairwell entrance.

"Morgue drawers," Jingle whispered. On impulse, she grasped the handle of one of the drawers and pulled it open. It was empty. She let out a sigh of relief. Guy opened the next one. It, too, was empty. They walked along the wall, randomly pulling out empty drawers. When they got to the end of the row, Guy pulled open the last drawer to reveal a brown teddy bear with a broken neck and a missing arm. Stuffing was coming out of the armhole and a button eye was hanging by a thread. It smiled unnaturally.

"Pretty damn disturbing," Guy muttered. Jingle nodded.

"Let’s go to the third floor," she said.

* * *

The trip up to the third floor was uneventful; the silence remained unbroken save for the sound of the two students’ footsteps on the concrete stairs. The image of the teddy bear stayed with Jingle; she wondered why it was in the morgue drawer since, as far as she knew, neither the morgue or the crematorium was used during Sunland’s operation. When they reached the third floor doorway, Guy grabbed the handle and was about to pull the door open when he was interrupted by a whisper.

"STOP!" it said. He turned to Jingle. Her eyes were wide with terror.

"That wasn’t you?" he asked. Jingle shook her head no. They both scanned the area but didn’t see anybody else. "Do you still want to go in?" Jingle gulped.

"Yes," she replied. Guy took a breath and pulled the door open. There was silence.

The third floor was really a big windowless room with a bathroom at the far right end. It wasn’t as dark as the basement and Jingle and Guy were able to adjust their eyes easily to the darkness. The flashlight beam bounced along the walls and what it revealed made the two students shudder. The walls were padded, Jingle assumed, to prevent the children from hurting themselves during a seizure. All along the walls were groups of five tears in the fabric, surrounded by brown stains. Jingle put her hand up to one of the groups then gasped and pulled it quickly away.

"Are you okay?" asked Guy.

"The children tried to claw their way out," she whispered. "They made their fingers bleed." She looked around at the walls. "God, what did they do to them?" Guy’s stomach churned as he looked at the walls. Then he noticed something.

"Hey, what’s that?" he said, shining the flashlight against the wall directly behind them. Something in red was written on it.

"Hm, strange," Jingle said. They walked over to the red markings. As they drew closer they saw that the markings were letters.

"‘Look in here,’" Guy read. There was an arrow beneath the message that pointed toward the bathroom.

"It looks like a little kid wrote this," Jingle said. She looked at the bathroom. "Should we go check it out?"

"Might as well," Guy said, overcome by a sudden curiosity. They walked to the bathroom, took a deep breath and stepped inside. Jingle screamed.

Brown smears covered the walls and floors and lined the sink. In one of the corners was a brown splatter where it looked like somebody hit his or her head and bust it open. A rotten stench permeated the air, causing Guy to choke and gag. A feeling of light-headedness came over him and he had to close his eyes to regain his composure. When he opened them again, he saw Jingle, wide-eyed, point to the toilet. A little girl with blonde pigtails was sitting on the toilet, her head down so Guy couldn’t see her face. She was in a long-sleeved white cotton nightgown with flowers on it; in her hand was a headless Raggedy Ann doll. She was crying.

"Help me," she sobbed. "Please help me." Guy couldn’t move. He just stared at the little girl in stunned silence.

"Help me," she repeated. Then she looked up and Guy saw that her face was deathly pale and her eyes were sunken in. Blood-red tears streamed down her face and onto her nightgown. "Please," she said, in an unearthly deep voice, "Why won’t you help me?" Suddenly Guy felt a sharp, searing pain on his left forearm and when he looked at it, the words, "HELP ME!" were carved in red into the skin.

"Let’s go!" he said, finding his legs. He nearly ran into the wall trying to get out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until he was out of the third floor and halfway down the stairs when he noticed that Jingle was not with him. Adrenaline flowing, he once again went back to the third floor and to the bathroom. It was lit with a soft glow, as if from a flashlight, but Guy noticed that his flashlight was off. Inside, he saw the little girl on the toilet, pleading for help and Jingle standing in the exact same spot where Guy had left her. She looked at Guy in wide-eyed terror.

"Guy, I—I can’t move!" she shrieked. "You’ve got to help me!" The little girl started to moan.

"Jingle!" Guy screamed. He made a move toward her but all of a sudden a door that he hadn’t noticed before slammed shut, trapping her inside. She screamed. He ran to the door and desperately tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge.

"You’ve got to help me!" Jingle screamed. "You’ve got to help me!"

"I’m going to go get help!" Guy shouted.

"No, don’t leave me!" On the other side of the door, it sounded like someone was scratching, trying to get out.

"I’ll be back, I promise!" Guy shouted. "Don’t scratch at the door!"

"I can’t control it!" Jingle screeched. The scratches got more frantic.

"I’ll be back!" Guy said, and then he ran out of the room, down the stairs and out into the open.

* * *

It took the rest of the night for the police to break down the bathroom door; one cop later said that it was almost as if an unseen force was on the other side, leaning against it, trying to keep it closed. When they finally were able to get into the bathroom, they found Jingle crumpled on the floor, eyes wide, mouth frozen into an "O." The scratching on the door wore her fingers down into bloody stumps. One policeman checked her pulse and pronounced her dead; he speculated that her heart must have stopped. The little girl was nowhere to be seen and Guy, who had gone back in with the police, went to a corner and vomited. Wiping his mouth, he looked at his forearm; the words, "HELP ME!" were scabbed over.