Case File 006 — Field Report, Agent Nocturne
Location: Black Pines Asylum, Briar County
Date: [REDACTED]
Status: Containment Failed / Site Abandoned
Black Pines has been on our watchlist for decades.
Originally established in 1893 as a psychiatric institution, later reclassified, later condemned, later forgotten. The paperwork says “structural instability.” The locals say something else.
We received notice after an independent paranormal investigation team—self-identified as the Ghostfacers—entered the property without clearance. Their footage circulated briefly online before being scrubbed. What remains in our possession is incomplete, distorted, and punctuated by long stretches of static.
There were three of them.
Two did not leave.
Official reports list them as missing persons. Unofficially, we have reason to believe the building did not allow them to leave in the same way they entered.
Black Pines does not behave like a structure. It behaves like a system.
Interior layouts shift. Hallways extend beyond architectural possibility. Patient rooms documented in 1931 appear intact despite fire damage recorded in 1974. Audio from the Ghostfacers’ equipment captured overlapping voices — some identified as the team, some not.
One clip in particular loops in our archives.
A male voice — unidentified — whispering:
“It’s not abandoned. It’s waiting.”
There was one survivor.
Name withheld. Status: Alive at time of extraction.
The survivor was found three miles from the asylum grounds at dawn, barefoot, hypothermic, and unable to articulate what occurred inside. Repeated attempts at debrief resulted in fragmented statements:
— “The fifth room.”
— “They kept the doors locked from the inside.”
— “It remembers your name.”
Within two weeks of release from medical observation, the survivor disappeared.
Bank accounts drained. Phone records terminated. Social media accounts deleted. The digital footprint goes dark in under forty-eight hours.
Dead End attempted contact. No response.
I reviewed the final interview transcript tonight. The survivor asked one question before walking out of the facility:
“Does it follow you home?”
I have not been assigned to Black Pines. Not yet. The higher-ups cite risk escalation and structural volatility. The file remains open but inactive — a wound sutured without cleaning it first.
Still, there’s a pattern here.
Buildings that dream.
Orchards that hum.
Asylums that wait.
Black Pines is not a ghost story. It’s an ecosystem.
And ecosystems don’t close.
End log.
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