The Echoing Asylum of Silaos: Where the Patients Never Left | SEASON 1
A Legacy of Brutal Experiments and a Hungry Presence; Can Faith Survive a Presence That Demands a Rite? Sshhhhh Come Let's Find out..
Chapter 1
ARCHIVAL NOTES: Case File #73-B, The Silaos Exorcisms. Location: Silaos Asylum, Silaos, Argentina. Date: Winter, 1978.
Father Elias stood at the rusted iron gates, the wind whipping his cassock around his gaunt frame. The Silaos Asylum was a monstrosity of crumbling stone and shattered windows, a place where sanity went to die.
A place where it had been tortured. Decades of abandonment had not softened its presence; if anything, the isolation had made it more menacing. He had been a priest for twenty years, a man of faith and unshakeable conviction, but the documents he carried felt like a weight, a blasphemy he was unprepared to accept. The Bishop had been clear: "This is not a haunting, Elias. It is a presence, and it demands the rite."
His assistant, a young, nervous seminarian named Mateo, gripped his briefcase tightly. "Padre, are you certain this is… proper? The local clergy..."
"The local clergy is terrified, Mateo," Elias interrupted, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "They call it 'El Devorador de Mentes'...The Devourer of Minds. We are here because the girl, Sofia, is dying. Her family is begging for help. Our duty is to save a soul, not debate protocol."
The gates groaned as Elias pushed them open, the sound echoing through the dead, silent courtyard. The air grew colder, thick with the smell of mold and something else...something rotten and coppery, like old blood.
DOCUMENTED FACT: The Silaos Asylum was built in the early 1900s to treat patients with severe mental afflictions. It was known for its experimental and often brutal treatments. The last patient, a young girl named Isabella, was committed in 1952. She was declared a "miracle cure" after a spontaneous recovery, but records show her body was never discharged. The last entry in the hospital log simply reads: "She did not leave."
Chapter 2
They entered the main hall, a vast, oppressive space where dust motes danced in the thin light filtering through the grimy windows. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the silence. The whispers had stopped.
Mateo: "I don't like this. The air... it feels heavy."
Elias: "Focus, Mateo. This is a place of suffering. That's all you're feeling. A lingering sadness."
He lied. He knew this was not a place of sadness. It was a place of hunger. He saw the patient files scattered on the floor of the administration office, untouched by the elements. A chill ran down his spine. The papers were crisp, the ink still black.
DOCUMENTED FACT: Several local families have reported strange occurrences since the Asylum's abandonment, including disembodied whispers, flickering lights, and the disappearance of small livestock. The whispers are always described as sounding like a young child's voice, speaking in reverse.
They found the case file for Sofia's family, the Rivas, on a desk. It was marked with a recent date...just three days ago. On top of it sat a small, unnerving relic: a child's porcelain doll with a cracked face and empty, black eyes. The doll was cold to the touch.
Mateo: "Padre... this is not a hospital file. This is an invitation."
Elias ignored him, his eyes fixed on a note scrawled on the file in a child's handwriting. "He is waiting for you."
Chapter 3
The further they delved into the asylum, the more the air grew frigid. They found Sofia in the common room, a vast space that once held patients but was now a tomb. She was bound to a chair, her eyes wide with terror, her body a grotesque parody of a human form. Her limbs were twisted at impossible angles, and a low, guttural growl came from her throat.
UNOFFICIAL REPORT: Local physician, Dr. Benitez, noted that the girl's physical condition defied all medical logic. He recorded that her heart rate would spontaneously drop to zero before returning to a normal rhythm, and her body temperature fluctuated between freezing and dangerously high. He concluded the girl was suffering from a 'psychotic break,' a diagnosis he later recanted in a panicked, final report.
Elias approached Sofia, his crucifix held high. "Be still, child. I am here to help you."
The low growl from her throat became a high-pitched shriek. It was not a human sound. It was the sound of something ancient and hungry, a cacophony of lost souls trapped in one body.
Sofia: "He... is not here. He... is waiting."
The voice that spoke was not Sofia's. It was a deep, resonating voice, filled with a profound, soul-deep grief. It was the voice of the asylum itself. It was the voice of "El Devorador de Mentes."
Chapter 4
Elias: "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I command you to reveal your name!"
A low, guttural laugh echoed through the common room, a sound like grinding stone. It seemed to come from the walls, from the floor, from the air itself. Sofia's head snapped back, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her body, a grotesque parody of a human form, began to shake uncontrollably.
The Entity: "I… am… many."
Mateo: "Padre, what is happening?"
Elias: "Be silent, Mateo. The entity is trying to confuse us."
The Entity: "I… am… the… lost. I… am… the… forgotten. I… am… the… hunger."
The walls began to bleed. Not with blood, but with a thick, black, oily substance that smelled of decay and despair. It was the essence of the asylum itself, a manifestation of the decades of suffering and pain trapped within its walls. The entity was not a single demon. It was a legion. And it was hungry.
Chapter 5
FATHER ELIAS’S JOURNAL: Entry 1: The entity is not a demon, as we know it. It is a psychic parasite, a conglomerate of all the suffering, all the grief, all the madness that has ever been within these walls. It has no will of its own. It is an instinct. A profound, soul-deep hunger. It wants to consume.
Elias began the rite of exorcism, his voice a low, grim whisper in the vast, oppressive space. The words were ancient, a profound, soul-deep lament, and they filled the air with a power that was both sacred and terrifying. The entity in Sofia's body writhed, her limbs twisting into more impossible angles, her bones groaning under the pressure.
The Entity: "You… cannot… defeat… us. We… are… too… many."
Elias: "Then I will free you all."
He continued the rite, his voice a low, grim whisper. The entity screamed, a profound, mournful lament that seemed to shake the very foundations of the asylum. A new voice, a young girl's voice, a voice filled with a profound, soul-deep grief, echoed through the common room. It was the voice of Isabella, the last patient who had been admitted to the asylum.
Isabella: "He… is… not… the… demon. He… is… the… keeper."
Mateo: "Padre... what does she mean?"
Elias: "She is trying to confuse us. Be silent, Mateo."
He had to end this. He had to free the souls of the lost. He had to save Sofia. He had to save himself. But the entity's screams were now joined by a chorus of whispers, a symphony of sorrow and despair. The whispers were coming from the walls, from the floor, from the air itself. The whispers were now a roar. And they were coming for him.
Chapter 6
FATHER ELIAS’S JOURNAL: Entry 2: The whispers. They are not random. They are the patients. They are crying out for help. The entity… it is a collector. A profound, soul-deep grief. It is a king. And it is not alone. It has a queen.
The whispers grew into a cacophony of voices, a symphony of sorrow and despair. They came from the walls, from the floor, from the air itself. Elias, his face a mask of profound despair, looked at the asylum. It was not a building. It was a being. And it was a being that was hungry. It was a being that was waiting.
Mateo: "Padre... what is happening?"
Elias: "It is a keeper, Mateo. Not a devourer. It keeps the souls of the lost. It is a profound, soul-deep sorrow. It is a king. And it is not alone. It has a queen. And she… she is waiting for us in the cellar."
The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and a new sound, a low, rhythmic thrumming, filled the air. It was not the sound of the wind. It was the sound of a profound, soul-deep grief. It was the sound of a queen. It was the sound of a profound, soul-deep rage. It was the sound of a hunter that had finally found its prey.
The rhythmic thrumming grew louder, more insistent, and the air grew colder, and a new figure, a silhouette of a woman, tall and gaunt, appeared in the shadows. It was not a woman. It was a projection. A physical manifestation of the asylum’s grief. It was the Queen. She was here. And she was not alone.
Season 1 Ends
STAY TUNED FOR SEASON 2 ... OUT SOON!
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Tales That Breathe at Night
I write what lingers in the dark—true horrors veiled in fiction, fiction rooted in truth. Some tales are whispered in graveyards, others buried in silence. If it gave someone nightmares, I’ll write it. Some stories remember you, too.
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Comments (2)
Omg, that doll was so creepy! I could almost smell that thick, black, oily substance of decay coming from the walls. Great work as always!
Wait... are these "Documented facts" ACTUAL facts?? Or facts made up for your story? Because they're insanely creepy and if I ever heard a small child speaking in reverse, I would immediately run in the opposite direction!😬😬 Creepy story! Patiently awaiting season 2!