Episode 22 - Disappearances in an abandoned mental hospital
The narrative unfolds a chilling account of a series of inexplicable disappearances within an eight-block radius in Atlanta, a phenomenon that has come to be known as the Vanishing Blocks. For over nine months, fifteen ordinary individuals have vanished without a trace, inciting media frenzy and public panic, yet law enforcement remains baffled, unable to establish any significant leads or connections among the victims. As the investigation progresses, two detectives, Deborah Tilton and Marcus Holt, grapple with the mounting pressure to solve the case, ultimately confronting the eerie legacy of St. Augustine's Hospital, an abandoned psychiatric institution shrouded in dark history. The detectives’ skepticism is challenged when they consult a self-proclaimed psychic medium who claims that malevolent forces residing within the hospital are responsible for the disappearances. What ensues is a harrowing journey into the heart of darkness, where reality itself begins to fray, leading to an unsettling conclusion that raises more questions than answers.
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Transcript
Imagine a world teetering on the edge of the familiar, a place where the fabric of the everyday begins to unravel, revealing glimpses of the extraordinary lurking beneath.
Speaker A:You're about to embark on a journey into the enigmatic, where the peculiar and the perplexing intertwine, where every tale twists the mind and tugs at the spirit.
Speaker A:It's a descent into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained.
Speaker A:This is when reality frays.
Speaker A:New episodes are published every Monday and Thursday, and when Reality Phrase is available everywhere, fine podcasts are found.
Speaker A:Before we move on, please hit that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted when new episodes are released.
Speaker A:Today's episode contains one story entitled the Vanishing Blocks.
Speaker A:Now let's get to the story.
Speaker A:Heat and humidity had settled over Atlanta like a suffocating cloak.
Speaker A:It was June and already shaping up to be a long, miserable summer.
Speaker A:But for the people who lived and worked in the Arts District, an eight square block area near downtown, the weather was the last thing they worried about.
Speaker A:A silent predator had staked its claim.
Speaker A:But this wasn't a serial killer.
Speaker A:At least there was no evidence so far to support that label.
Speaker A:Instead, people were vanishing.
Speaker A:Over nine months, 15 ordinary people had gone missing.
Speaker A:The media was in a frenzy dubbing the area the Vanishing Blocks, and the police were no closer to identifying a suspect than they'd been when the disappearances began.
Speaker A:These were normal, everyday people with no history of or ties to anything nefarious.
Speaker A:The first Victim was a 38 year old schoolteacher, an Atlanta native and by all accounts an all around wonderful person.
Speaker A:Then a father of four, a mechanic at one of the largest auto dealerships in the state.
Speaker A:Next came an office manager, a delivery driver, a plumber and a paralegal, all with homes, families and mundane routines.
Speaker A:The only connection between the victims, the police had been able to establish, was that each had vanished within the same eight blocks.
Speaker A:There had been no bodies, no abandoned belongings and no witnesses.
Speaker A:The disappearances were as clean as if the victims had simply been erased from existence.
Speaker A:The only connection tying them together was geography.
Speaker A:All went missing within a tight grid centered on St.
Speaker A: nstrosity abandoned since the: Speaker A:Its crumbling brick facade, boarded windows and graffiti tagged walls loomed over the neighborhood.
Speaker A:It had been marked for demolition for years, but perpetually ignored by a city too busy to care.
Speaker A:The police had searched it, along with several other abandoned buildings within the area, but no trace of the missing was found.
Speaker A:Surprisingly, detectives had not been able to pinpoint the precise location where each victim had vanished.
Speaker A:Despite the assistance of the cell phone carriers, the coordinates of each phone at the time of disappearance couldn't be determined.
Speaker A:What is normally a track that is accurate to within less than 4ft of a phone's physical location became useless whenever a phone entered the eight block area.
Speaker A:So the detectives and a small army of uniformed officers had scoured the area, searching abandoned buildings, knocking on doors and talking to any and everyone they encountered.
Speaker A:And they came up with nothing they didn't already know.
Speaker A:Detectives Deborah Tilton and Marcus Holt were assigned the case.
Speaker A:Deborah, 38, was a skeptic who trusted only what she could see and prove.
Speaker A:Her sharp tongue and relentless focus on evidence had closed dozens of cases, and she was confident the day was coming when she'd find a clue that broke the case wide open.
Speaker A:Marcus, 42, was was her calm, steady and introspective.
Speaker A:The case weighed heavily on them both.
Speaker A:Deborah couldn't shake the faces of the victims families, their desperate pleas echoing in her dreams.
Speaker A:Marcus kept a photo of the latest missing person, Lisa Monroe, a 29 year old kindergarten teacher who vanished in her yellow sundress taped to his desk as a reminder.
Speaker A:The investigation was a pressure cooker.
Speaker A:The media wasn't letting go of the story and public panic was rising.
Speaker A:They combed traffic cams daily, reinterviewed neighbors they had already talked to, and scoured the victims lives for any connection they'd missed before.
Speaker A:And they found nothing.
Speaker A:It's like they're being swallowed whole, deborah said, tossing a file onto the conference table during a late night briefing.
Speaker A:Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and her coffee sat cold in a cup.
Speaker A:Marcus was staring at a map of the area, his focus lingering on the hospital.
Speaker A:This place, he said.
Speaker A:Locals avoid it.
Speaker A:Say it's cursed.
Speaker A:Debra snorted in frustration.
Speaker A:The hospital had been searched three times.
Speaker A:The K9 unit had even run a pair of dogs through and found nothing.
Speaker A:The next morning a call came from Evelyn Cross, a self proclaimed psychic medium.
Speaker A:Her voice trembled over the phone, urgent and raw.
Speaker A:She claimed to have had a vision in which she saw what was taking people said it was something lurking in the old hospital that wasn't human and that the disappearances were going to continue until it was stopped.
Speaker A:Deborah hung up, muttering about frauds, but Marcus hesitated, staring at the map.
Speaker A:With no leads and pressure mounting, he convinced Deborah it was worth following up.
Speaker A:They visited Evelyn at her cramped midtown apartment.
Speaker A:Her shades were drawn tightly and the air was heavy with incense.
Speaker A:Evelyn, in her mid-60s, was frail, her pale skin almost translucent with dark circles under her eyes that suggested sleepless nights.
Speaker A:She clutched a silver pendant etched with a spiral.
Speaker A:Her fingers trembling, she told them that evil had taken up residence in the hospital.
Speaker A:Dark, ancient entities lived there, feeding on fear and the lives it had claimed.
Speaker A:She said the darkness was growing stronger and would continue taking people until it was cast out and sent back to where it had come from.
Speaker A:Deborah leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Speaker A:She met Marcus gaze and rolled her eyes in dismissal of the woman.
Speaker A:Evelyn's gaze sharpened, her eyes boring into Deborah.
Speaker A:With a deep breath, she told her about a woman in a yellow dress that she had seen pulled into a wall and a man with grease stained hands running down a hall before he was consumed by something so black it was more shadow than substance.
Speaker A:Marcus had spoken quickly, cutting off Deborah before she could respond.
Speaker A:Why now?
Speaker A:The hospital's been empty for decades.
Speaker A:Evelyn cast a sideways glance at Deborah before explaining that St.
Speaker A:Augustine's had been a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane in the 50s and 60s.
Speaker A:They performed electroshock therapy, conducted lobotomies, and ran even more horrific experiments that no one would discuss.
Speaker A:Patients died in agony and unless they had family that would take their remains, which was extremely rare, they were buried in unmarked graves behind the hospital, their pain soaked into the ground in the building, opening a doorway to something old, something that thrived on fear and suffering.
Speaker A:The city's neglect had let it grow and it's hungry.
Speaker A:Deborah pushed off the wall, scoffing, but Marcus persisted, convincing her that they should make another sweep of the old building.
Speaker A:Evelyn nodded tightly, gripping her pendant and insisting she should come with them.
Speaker A:She needed to be there because she could see and feel things they couldn't.
Speaker A:Deborah opened her mouth but Marcus cut her off again.
Speaker A:She rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air in surrender.
Speaker A:They arrived at St.
Speaker A:Augustine's just before sunset.
Speaker A:The hospital loomed, its three story silhouette dark against the horizon.
Speaker A:Broken windows gaped like empty sockets and graffiti was scrawled on every surface.
Speaker A:Weeds choked the courtyard and a rusted sign hung crookedly, its faded letters barely spelling Saint Augustine's.
Speaker A:Deborah's skin prickled despite her skepticism as Marcus scanned the building with uneasy eyes.
Speaker A:He approached the chained entrance, bolt cutters ready, but stopped in surprise.
Speaker A:The padlock one of the police search teams had put in place lay on the ground, half melted into a glistening puddle as if liquefied like wax left under a scorching sun.
Speaker A:He nudged it with his boot and glanced at Deborah, but she dismissed it as neighborhood kids screwing around, or maybe even the Homeless, breaking in for a place to sleep.
Speaker A:Marcus tugged and the doors creaked open, exhaling a breath of decay.
Speaker A:Inside, darkness pressed against them, thick with a stench of mold and mildew.
Speaker A:Their flashlights cut narrow beams through swirling dust, revealing a lobby littered with debris.
Speaker A:Overturned chairs, shattered glass, a child's shoe.
Speaker A:Inexplicably alone.
Speaker A:Evelyn stumbled, clutching her head.
Speaker A:They're here, she whispered.
Speaker A:So many voices.
Speaker A:They slowly moved deeper, their footsteps echoing unnaturally.
Speaker A:The first room held rusted electroshock equipment, its dials frozen and copper wires dangling.
Speaker A:In another room was a tray of lobotomy tools, picks, hammers, and scalpels gleaming faintly even beneath a thick layer of dust.
Speaker A:The farther they went, the colder the air became.
Speaker A:A door slammed somewhere deep in the building, the sound sharp as a gunshot.
Speaker A:They froze.
Speaker A:Another slam, closer, then a third, reverberating through the walls.
Speaker A:Deborah's pulse raced, but she blamed the wind.
Speaker A:Evelyn shook her head, her pendant clutched so tightly her knuckles were white.
Speaker A:They know we're here.
Speaker A:And they're angry.
Speaker A:Marcus tried his radio, his face tightening as static hissed back.
Speaker A:Deborah checked her phone.
Speaker A:No bars.
Speaker A:We need backup, she said, her hand moving to rest on her holstered pistol.
Speaker A:Marcus nodded, and they turned to retrace their steps.
Speaker A:But the hospital had other plans.
Speaker A:The hallway they had entered through was gone, where it had been now, a blank wall.
Speaker A:Marcus and Deborah traded a concerned look.
Speaker A:Both were certain there had been a haul.
Speaker A:Both drew their weapons, positioned Evelyn between them, and tried a different route, only to hit another dead end.
Speaker A:A door that had been there moments ago was gone.
Speaker A:It's playing with us, evelyn said, Like a cat toying with a mouse.
Speaker A:It's about to eat.
Speaker A:A scream tore through the air from the second floor.
Speaker A:Another came from inside the wall beside them, muffled but desperate, as if someone were trapped just beyond reach.
Speaker A:Deborah banged on the wall, answered by another scream and a powerful blow against the far side of the wall that cracked plaster.
Speaker A:She yanked her hand back, heart pounding.
Speaker A:Footsteps began slow, deliberate, echoing from nowhere.
Speaker A:Deborah and Marcus whirled in search of the source, but saw nothing.
Speaker A:The steps drew closer, then stopped abruptly.
Speaker A:It's here, evelyn said, clutching her pendant with both hands.
Speaker A:A whisper brushed Deborah's ear, too faint to decipher, but it sent ice down her spine.
Speaker A:They pushed deeper, driven by instinct and dread.
Speaker A:In a surgical ward, they found a gurney stained with dark, sticky smears that looked fresh.
Speaker A:A child's laughter, sharp and piercing, echoed from a stairwell.
Speaker A:Deborah's flashlight died.
Speaker A:Marcus's going out half a second later, and darkness swallowed them.
Speaker A:Deborah hissed for Everyone to stay close as she flew, fumbled with her phone.
Speaker A:Its weak light barely pierced the darkness, casting long shadows that seemed to writhe.
Speaker A:She called out for Marcus.
Speaker A:Silence.
Speaker A:She whirled, her phone's weak beams sweeping the room.
Speaker A:Evelyn stood alone, her eyes reflecting terror.
Speaker A:Deborah shouted for Marcus.
Speaker A:Her voice cracking.
Speaker A:Evelyn clutched her arm, nails digging in Deborah's phone.
Speaker A:Light flickered off for a few seconds, then came back on.
Speaker A:Marcus lay sprawled on the floor, his face unrecognizable, eyes gouged, mouth twisted in a silent scream, blood pooling beneath him like a dark mirror.
Speaker A:Deborah gasped a sob.
Speaker A:Something moved in the corner, a ripple in the darkness too fast to identify.
Speaker A:Deborah fired.
Speaker A:The shots were deafening and plaster exploded.
Speaker A:She hurried forward, finding only bullet holes and plaster dust.
Speaker A:Spinning back, she saw it.
Speaker A:A tall, dark figure looming behind Evelyn.
Speaker A:Its form was wrong, a void of writhing shadow, featureless, yet alive with malice.
Speaker A:Its presence rooted her to the form floor.
Speaker A:Evelyn, sensing the entity, whirled to face it.
Speaker A:Her scream cut short as it enveloped her and vanished into the darkness.
Speaker A:The figure reappeared feet from Deborah, the edges of its form flickering like dark lightning.
Speaker A:Deborah bolted.
Speaker A:She ran through halls that twisted back on themselves.
Speaker A:Doors appeared where walls had been, then visible, vanished.
Speaker A:A voice called her name.
Speaker A:Marcus voice, impossible but clear.
Speaker A:She followed it, desperate, her phone light dying.
Speaker A:Shadows clawed at her, fraying her clothes and brushing her skin with icy fingers.
Speaker A:A stairwell opened before her, its steps slick with something wet.
Speaker A:She climbed, her breath ragged, hearing whisper whispers pursuing her.
Speaker A:At the top, light came through a large crack in the wall.
Speaker A:A voice called, detective, over here.
Speaker A:A uniformed officer stuck his head into the room and reached out a hand.
Speaker A:Deborah grasped it and was pulled through the hole into another room.
Speaker A:The officer helped her to her feet.
Speaker A:He smiled at her, then wrapped her in his powerful arms and pulled her to his chest.
Speaker A:Deborah screamed and fought as the officer transformed into the tall, dark figure.
Speaker A:But she was no match for its strength and was enveloped and lost to the darkness.
Speaker A:By midnight, Atlanta PD launched a frantic search.
Speaker A:The detectives department issued sedans sat outside St.
Speaker A:Augustine's inside the hospital, investigators found scattered evidence.
Speaker A:A flashlight, Evelyn's silver pendant and a blood streaked floor in a room that shouldn't exist.
Speaker A:But the detectives and the medium were gone, as if the earth had opened and swallowed them whole.
Speaker A:The disappearances stopped as abruptly as they had begun.
Speaker A:The case remained unsolved, a failure the department buried under bureaucratic silence.
Speaker A:Families of the missing held vigils, clutching photos of their loved ones.
Speaker A:But answers never came.
Speaker A:Six months later, the city razed St.
Speaker A:Augustine's its walls crumbling under wrecking balls.
Speaker A:A parking garage rose in its place, sleek and sterile, a monument to forgetting.
Speaker A:But shadows lingered.
Speaker A:Late at night, drivers reported glimpses of a tall man in black, his form flickering in the garage's dimly lit corner.
Speaker A:Security guards heard footsteps on empty levels, doors slamming in locked stairwells.
Speaker A:Cameras caught nothing, but those who saw the figure felt a chill, even on the hottest of nights.
Speaker A:Some described it as a hunger watching from the dark.
Speaker A:Rumors spread among the homeless who slept nearby, whispers of voices in the garage's lowest level calling names in the night.
Speaker A:The city dismissed it as urban legend, but residents of the art district know that evil still wanders their streets.
Speaker A:That's it for this episode.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the stories, please support the podcast by buying me a coffee.
Speaker A:The link is in the episode Show Notes, and I would greatly appreciate your support.
Speaker A:New episodes of the When Reality Phrase podcast are released every Monday and Thursday.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the journey into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained, be sure to press that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted whenever an episode drops.
Speaker A:Until next time, thank you for listening to When Reality Phrase SA.
