The Echoes of the Abandoned Asylum

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, eerie glow over the old, dilapidated asylum. The group of friends had gathered for an evening of thrill-seeking, but little did they know that their adventure would turn into a nightmare from which they would never fully awake.

Draven, the leader of the group, had always been fascinated by the supernatural. He had heard tales of the asylum's haunted history, of patients who had vanished without a trace, and of the eerie sounds that echoed through its walls at night. The others, however, were more skeptical, but curiosity got the better of them.

As they pushed open the creaking gates, the air grew colder, and a shiver ran down Draven's spine. "Let's not waste time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to find the records room. There's something important in there."

The group navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. The air was thick with dust and the scent of decay. They passed the empty cells, each one more disturbing than the last, with peeling paint and rusted bars.

Finally, they reached the records room. The door was slightly ajar, and the light from the flickering bulb cast long shadows across the room. Draven pushed the door open and stepped inside. The others followed, their eyes wide with fear.

The room was filled with shelves of dusty files, and in the center was an old wooden desk. Draven approached the desk, his heart pounding. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. The title was faintly visible: "The Lost Souls of Blackwood Asylum."

As he flipped through the pages, he found the entries of patients who had disappeared. The last entry was particularly disturbing. It spoke of a woman named Eliza, who had been admitted with a mental illness and had vanished without a trace. The last entry read, "Last seen wandering the halls at midnight. No sign of body or remains."

The group exchanged nervous glances. "We need to find her," Draven said, his voice trembling. "She might still be alive."

They split up, searching the asylum for any sign of Eliza. The halls were silent, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. They found a hidden room behind a loose panel, and inside was a makeshift bed, covered in cobwebs. There was a small, handwritten note on the wall: "I am here. Help me."

Hope surged through Draven. "We found her," he said, leading the way. The others followed, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

When they reached the hidden room, they found Eliza. She was weak, her eyes hollow and her hair matted with dirt. She looked up at them, her voice barely a whisper. "You must help me. They... they won't let me go."

Draven knelt down beside her. "We will find a way to get you out of here," he promised.

As they were trying to figure out a plan, the room began to shake. The walls trembled, and a chilling wind swept through the room. The air grew colder, and a ghostly figure appeared at the doorway. It was the image of a woman in a long, flowing dress, her eyes filled with despair.

"Leave her," the woman's voice echoed through the room. "She is mine now."

Eliza screamed, and the room filled with a cacophony of ghostly wails. The group tried to run, but the walls seemed to close in on them. They were trapped.

Draven turned to Eliza. "We can't leave you here," he said, his voice steady. "We have to find a way out."

Suddenly, the walls began to crumble, and a hidden passage opened before them. Draven grabbed Eliza's hand and pulled her through. The others followed, their hearts pounding as they made their way to safety.

When they emerged from the asylum, they collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. They had made it out, but the experience had left a lasting scar.

Back at the car, Draven opened the leather-bound book one last time. The last entry was still there, but this time, it was signed: "Eliza."

They had freed her, but the spirits of the asylum were not so easily forgotten. The echoes of the abandoned asylum would haunt them for years to come, a reminder of the darkness that lies just beyond the veil of the unknown.