This place was once native territory, cursed to the white men that took their land.

What I saw as establishment, became my grandest mistake. All I could see was wide acres, for a fair price.

This was their revenge on the white man that led them to rot, along with their children. The white man will face agony, suffering, and mentally crack as they did. That was the curse brought upon this land.

This was not brought upon me by the man that sold the house, but by a strange native woman.

She had white ratty hair, and rough wrinkled skin. Her eyes were that of the sky, and when I stared into it, it was as if I was living the terrible past she had lived in during her youth. Her clothes were dirty, torn and raggedly.

I didn’t believe in curses, nor did I believe in stories told by one wretched woman. I was arrogant to listen, and arrogant to see heed her warning. That was the day I bought the land, and that was the day that the curse was brought upon my name.

I laughed in her face ,and told her off as if she was some crazed woman telling me a folklore. But as I took my eye off that very second, I could hear her voice. It was as if she was mumbling voices, chanting about something. When I glanced back from the land I was happy to buy, and to the woman, it was as if she was never there.

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I thought of it no more, as I stared upon the empty land that was mine. I thought to myself, this was will bring a bright future to the ever going city of Ravenwood. I thought I was a brilliant man to buy something in the outskirts of that city of darkness, secrets, agony. I just welcomed a curse upon my own curse, as there was no hope for the city, neither will there be any hope for what became my home.

I could remember night after night, I was filled with strange dreams. I woke up screaming in agony and fear, as it felt so real, and yet it wasn’t.

I remembered how the dream would play out, same one every night. I stand there in front of the building, with souls of the lost lined up. A sign of the building lit up in front of me, reading “Eldirtich Insane Asylum”. When I walked up the steps, twisting pushing the doors open, there she was. Her eyes glowing a green aura, and a hand on my shoulder. She was chanting words, not of English, and yet I was all I remembered was my backing away. As I backed away, the lost souls grabbed in as they sink into the ground, I with them. As I sunk low, my body decayed until there was nothing but a skull. It was a message of my death, a message of me rotting with this asylum along with those around me that died. I did not listen to this message, as I did not believe that even a dream could foreshadow my end.

I kept focusing on my asylum. as I remembered it was a warm and breezy spring day when the construction started in 1922. I could hear the birds singing, and the crows cawing, many crows cawing if I were to count. It was as if they cried murder, but I didn’t seem to bat one eye to that.

I remember it was October 31, 1923 when the building was done. Strange day for an asylum to be done on Halloween, but none the less the doors were finally opened.

Hence this is where I had my first patient, one of the most ruthless and disturbing men I ever face.