"Craig, I can't see shit!"
Johnny huddled against an old rusted rod-iron gate. He gripped it as if the prison itself would drag him back into its deepest abyss!
"hang in there man, I'll have to go to base-camp and grab more batteries." Craig said with a worried tone.
"I can't believe this shit is happening! You assured we wouldn't split up: I'm stuck on one side of this god awful gate and you're on the other!"
Each word resonated with pitch perfect accuracy in the primordial prison. Its long hallways and aged stone walls amplified any sound.
"Johnny, stay put. I'll be back in fifteen minutes and then everything will be fine!"
Craig shuffled down the lengthy hall of the prison ward, heading towards their initial base-camp. His footsteps echoed amongst the iron bars, stone walls and high ceilings. The daunting darkness of the ward smothered all accountability of time.
Johnny's muscles pulsed against the weathered rod-iron gate as he pressed his ear to its rusty bars. Soon nothing could be heard.
He was alone!
***
Venzula Penitentiary sits on top of a hill, abandoned in rural Australia. Built like a castle it's designed to house the "twice transported" prisoners or outcasts of society.
Off the beaten path, the main resolve was to cleanse inmates of their sins by isolating them twenty four hours a day. Warden Howard M. Stein, believed penance through God can purge the dishonesty and sickness each prisoner possessed. Socialization of any form was forbidden. As seen by its isolated location, no outside influence can inhibit their treatment. Unfortunately true, any scream or cry for help was also swallowed by the vast outback.
In the early nineteen hundreds, the prison was shut down for inhumane treatment. Abandoned, the antiquity of its archaic stone walls was imprinted with the spirit of time. A sense of overwhelming sadness and anger, lingers amidst the lonely halls.
People would have you believe the place has ghosts or inhabitants who never left. So it stands, as do most dilapidated primitive prisons, haunted.
***
"Johnny, come here and check this out."
Craig hunched over his computer clicking the mouse enthusiastically. He sat at the desk in their hotel room.
"This place looks pretty legit; I think the old prison is about an hour from here? Looks like a good thrill before we head home," Craig said.
"Ya, I saw a special on the TV about the prison last night, after you dozed off. It is supposed to be haunted!" Johnny mewled.
"I think we should at least talk with one of the locals about this place." Craig said excitedly.
Johnny moved over to the desk and stood behind Craig. A picture of the prison illuminated the small screen. Its immense towers, formidable walls and inner court yards gave Johnny an uneasy feeling.
"This is hell on earth," he said as Craig started to read the excerpt beneath the picture.
"Venzula Prison closed in nineteen thirty-two. After multiple inquires and indictments of malpractice the federal authorities shut the prison down and never reopened the facility."
Craig took a deep breath and scrolled further down the page to another picture. A giant blurry man standing in-front of a white iron gate, appeared on the screen. Craig again read the brief explanation.
"Pictured above is Dr. Walter E. Dauss. He is the first doctor to use electroconvulsive therapy, torture and medical experiments against the prisoners. He tormented death row inmates by dressing up as an executioner. There are two documented executions he personally carried out. Countless others are rumored but not validated. Dr. Dauss executed the two prisoners by beheading. Their heads lop off with an axe, just to create fear amongst the prisoners."
"Holy hell, this guy is a nut job! Doesn't surprise me one bit around here though," Craig said and continued reading.
"Dr. Dauss believed that the mental psychosis of the inmates could be mended only when in their weakest and most venerable state. The reign of terror at Venzula finally caught up to the Dr. He was eventually bludgeoned with a large axe by his own assistant. He is called The Executioner because it is said you can hear the large man drag his axe up and down the halls, looking for his next victim."
"Mwahahahah!" Craig cackled loudly, making Johnny jump.
"Damnit man, you scared me." Johnny, yelped.
"Don't be a puss; this is some bull-shit site anyways. I say we go and take a look."
"I told you before, prisons are off limits. We can jump out of a plane or drink until we puke, but I will not step foot into that place." Johnny stared down at Craig sitting in the chair.
"Come off it, you know we need a new experience, besides countless people have been in that place over the years and nothing much happens. Maybe a whisper or footstep is all anyone ever hears."
Craig stood up and put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. He could tell his comrade wanted nothing to do with this prison but their summer trip was almost over and they needed a good story to tell their friends back home.
"You know Anna will love it when she finds out you had the balls to explore the "Scary" prison in a foreign country." Johnny said in a schmooze voice.
Craig could tell he got the gears moving in Johnny's head. He has liked Anna since they were little kids and would do anything to impress her.
"You have a point but if I got into that prison, we stick together." Johnny stated with a now more enthusiastic tone.
"Yes sir, Master Chief," Craig belted as he saluted Johnny and started to laugh. "This will be a night to remember, the best way to end our vacation!"
**
Johnny turned and faced the other side of the hall leading into the very heart of the prison itself. He could only make out a few feet in front of him. The moon gleamed through broken windows and eerily shadowed the primitive prison cell doors, hanging loosely on their hinges.
"Damnit! Why won't this thing work" Johnny said to himself as he tapped the flashlight against his hand. He hated this situation and couldn't believe he let Craig sucker him into exploring this place.
The ting of an iron bar rung in the empty hall.
Johnny jumped, smacking his head against the rustic gate. He screamed out in agony and felt the hard dirt-covered stone brush against his leg. Smothered in dirt and sweating profusely he felt consumed by the darkness. As did everything in this prison even its most vigilant adversaries.
For the first time in any of their adventures, his best friend was gone and he was left to fend for himself.
A high pitch scream sung out through the prison, rattling the very marrow in his bones.
It was Craig.
Moments later another scream again filled the darkness accompanied by a loud metal clunk.
"Craig!" Johnny yelled out whipping his body around stirring up dust and kicking small pieces of rock.
No answer came back.
Johnny rubbed the sweat off his brow and spit the dirt out of his mouth.
"Come on buddy. Please answer me!"
He looked down the long dark hall but nothing was there. Only the twinkle of dust in the moon-light showered the vast dark ward.
Minutes passed as Johnny again clung to the rod-Iron Gate. The only safe haven he had left. It was only the sound of something dragging a heavy object down the hallway that snapped him to his senses.
As he turned to face the looming darkness a large figure started to take form.
His enormous muscles bulged out of his tight black vest. The black executioner's mask sunk into is boney face. Long dark stringy hair hung shoulder length and his broad frame stood large in the dark empty hall.
Johnny whimpered. He finally noticed the long heavy axe, dripping with blood, clanging against the stone.
"Craig!" Johnny screamed.
The dark masked man lifted the blood-soaked axe above his head.
"Welcome to my Prison, I am your executioner!" He spat. "I see your soul"
"Please God, someone help..." Johnny cried out.
The executioner contorted a satisfying, greedy-grin, and swung downward with all his might. Cracking bone shook the old prison as the axe sunk into Johnny's skull.
Leaving the cleaver in Johnny's head the big dark man turned and faded into the darkness.
Johnny's body lay against the weathered rod-Iron Gate. Blood pooled at his sides. Eyes wide open, seeing everything but seeing nothing at all.
He was abandoned!