Pennhurst Asylum

“Kill them.” ”Kill them.” ”Kill them.”



Over and over again, the voices in my head tell me the same exact thing.



I’d hate to admit, but the offer sounder tempting. As I look at the other people sitting at the table across from me in the hospital cafeteria. I believe I forgot to mention that I am in an asylum deep in the back roads of Pennsylvania. I’m sure that you haven’t heard the true story of this place due to the fact that some of the world’s worst experimentations have been held here and for the sake of the people, the events that have happened here have been mostly covered up. This place is called The Pennhurst Asylum.



The Pennhurst Asylum, as you may know, is today known as a haunted tourist attraction. But, I remember it as the hell hole that I called home for many years. I leave here for you, my journal entries during my time in Pennhurst while under the experimentation of Dr. Heinrich Chakajian.



October, 1982



I have been transferred to this place from my former prison in Europe. My new home is called Pennhurst and I guess it was an old school and hospital. Honestly, I wonder why the fuck I was transferred here in the first place. Well, I guess I have no right to complain since I’m sentenced for life. It’s better than the alternative. Actually, now that I think of it, I’d almost rather be dead. To know that all I have to look forward to is the eventual occurrence of death...the desire to go on slowly fades away as the days drag on. I heard rumors from the other cell mates that there is a doctor here who has inmates taken to him and they just…disappear. I can tell now that I do not wish to meet him. Hopefully I don’t.



February, 1983



Over the past four months, the inmates have been disappearing more and more. Even my newly made friend, Darren. Darren and I met during lunch about two months back. He and I hit it off very well. Turns out he also used to live in Pennsylvania just as I have before we were transferred to Europe to our new prison home. We discussed why we were here in the first place. I was sentenced for the murder of a family of six. He was sentenced for man-slaughter of, I believe, two people. Funny enough, we did not let our past actions corrupt our friendship. We actually looked at it as a form of common interest. But, Darren was taken away a few days ago. I’m not entirely sure why. I need to find out what happened to him and I hope I’m not next.



<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">April, 1983

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">The guards in my section seem to be taking different inmates away. I can tell my time is coming. I don’t know what to do. Escape? I’m not sure how the hell I’m gonna get out of this place. It’s too heavily guarded. I…I hear them coming to my cell. I don’t want to die…

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">March, 1984

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">He took me…he took me away and…did things to me. Unexplainable things. The flash of lights, the blur of red mist. My entire back is burning. He cut it open and performed some kind of surgery on it. I can feel the stitches in my back, sealing up where he cut into my back flesh. But wait…I feel something in my back. In the center of my back on both sides of my spine…I feel some form of lump on each side.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">May, 1984

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">The lumps in my back seem to be growing larger. It feels as if they’re about to burst. I can’t take the pain anymore. I must find out what the fuck Dr. Heinrich did to me. I’m cutting open my back and taking out whatever it is he put in my back.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">May, 1984 (later that night)

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I cut my back open with a piece of the mirror that was in my cell. I can’t seem to take the lumps out and they seem to keep growing. What the fuck has he done to me? I hear screaming coming from the upper floors. More prisoners being taken away? Why am I lasting so long? What’s so special about me? Why can’t he just kill me already? I have so longed for death and this sure as hell isn’t helping. I may as well slit my own throat with this mirror shard. You know what? I just may do so…..Wait. I hear the guards coming. Oh God no. Not again. I don’t want to see the doctor again. He’s gonna do those horrible experiments to me aga-

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">August, 1985

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I’m surprised I’m still alive. I guess I’ve been unconscious for over a year now. I’m now horribly thin and, well, almost dead. I wish I was. The lumps on my back have grown into large, hornlike bones sticking out of my back. The bones ripped through my back flesh and now my back is completely covered in blood. I should be dead. I should be dead. I should be FUCKING DEAD by now. But no. He won’t let me die. That fucking insane doctor. If only I could get my hands on him. I’ll tear his throat out.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">November, 1985

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I hate how the other inmates look at me in the cafeteria. They see what Heinrich has done to me and they stare in fear at the monstrosity that he has created. Actually, I’m surprised they even feed us at all in this damned place. Although, the portions of food are usually a small plate of steamed chopped potatoes or something simple like that. The fearful eyes of the other inmates focus upon my torn and bloodied back. I can feel their stares burning into my mind. ”Kill them.” ”Kill them.” ”Kill them.” I hear those voices through my head and the thought of killing every single one of these motherfuckers sounds absolutely satisfying.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">January, 1986

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I heard the inmates were planning an escape from this hell hole. Sounds like fun. I hope to take this opportunity to kill Dr. Heinrich myself and maybe a few of the other inmates that glare at me whenever I’m eating. I’ve decided that I’m going to eat THEM. Those horrible fucking people I have to deal with on top of the agonizing pain from the experiments that Dr. Heinrich has done to me. I can’t take it anymore. The time to act is now. I WILL be free from this damned facility. I will start with the assholes in the cafeteria. Kill them off as quickly and as brutally as possible. Then I will make my escape. I’m ready.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">January 1986 (later that day)

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I have decided to keep this journal with me so I can remember all the shit I went through in my time at Pennhurst Asylum. Truly, it was a living hell. My favorite part, though, was the very end of my stay. I helped myself to the flesh of the other inmates. I was so hungry. Not anymore, though. Tearing my way through the asylum, I found the body of my old friend, Darren. So, I did all I could think of: I took the body with me. Supposedly, the building burst into flames on the second floor of the administrative building. Good. That building deserves to burn down.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">I have retreated away from the Pennhurst Asylum. I can’t stand the look of that place. I keep Darren with me in my new home that’s a couple miles away from Pennhurst. A small, rusty old shack, but it’s a better home than any other place I’ve ever known. The rotting stench of Darren’s corpse is getting unbearable, though. So, I guess I’ll have to eat him. I wouldn’t dare bury him. I don’t want him to waste away into the ground. So, why not become a part of me?

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:19.5px;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-family:'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;">Lately, I’ve been so hungry. No more bodies to feed on. Normal food just isn’t the same no that I have tasted human flesh…I must feed. Soon. There is a small town nearby. The young ones look so delicious. Such new and soft skin. Oh, it’ll be wonderful. I’m sure the adults wouldn’t mind if I just took one…or a few.