The moon, a spectral spotlight in the inky sky, bathed Cranbrook Asylum in an eerie glow. Its skeletal silhouette loomed against the horizon, a monument to forgotten suffering. Maya, Liam, Chloe, and Noah huddled nervously by the rusted gates, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and the whisper of the wind through the overgrown weeds.
"You sure about this?" Maya asked, her voice a little shaky despite her attempt at bravado.
Liam, ever the showman, grinned. "Absolutely! Think of the stories we'll have to tell." He pulled out a flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness. "Let's do this."
The gates creaked open with a groan that echoed through the stillness, as if the asylum itself was welcoming them... or warning them. As they stepped onto the overgrown path, the air grew heavy, thick with the scent of dust, decay, and something else... something indefinable, but unsettling.
Inside, the asylum was a labyrinth of shadows. Cobwebs, like macabre decorations, draped from the high ceilings, clinging to everything like ghostly shrouds. The floorboards groaned under their weight, each step echoing through the silent corridors, amplifying the feeling of dread.
"This place is seriously creepy," Chloe whispered, her flashlight beam dancing across the peeling wallpaper and broken windows.
Liam, ever the documentarian, tried to record a video on his phone, but the screen flickered and died, displaying only static. "Weird," he muttered. "Must be the atmosphere."
They explored the main floor, the remnants of the asylum's past scattered like forgotten memories. Rusted medical equipment lay abandoned in what must have been examination rooms, their purpose now chillingly clear. Tattered patient files littered the floor, their contents lost to time and decay.
"Look at this," Chloe said, pointing to a wall covered in graffiti. Among the scribbles and crude drawings, she noticed a pattern – strange symbols, unlike anything she'd ever seen. They resembled ancient runes, their meanings hidden in the mists of time. "These are... unusual," she murmured, tracing one of the symbols with her finger. "I've seen similar things in old occult texts."
As Chloe examined the graffiti, Noah, unusually talkative, pointed to a darkened corner. "There's something over there."
They approached cautiously, their flashlights illuminating a small, windowless room. Inside, they found a single object – a wooden chair, its legs broken, facing the wall. An unsettling chill permeated the room, raising goosebumps on their arms.
Suddenly, a door slammed shut somewhere in the depths of the asylum, the sound echoing through the building. They froze, their hearts pounding in their chests. They weren't alone. They could feel it. Something was watching them from the shadows. The whispers had begun. Faint at first, like the rustling of leaves, but growing louder, more distinct. They couldn't understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable – malevolent.
A cold draft swept through the room, extinguishing their flashlights, plunging them into absolute darkness. A collective gasp filled the silence, followed by the frantic clicking of lighters. When the lights flickered back on, they were greeted by an even more unsettling sight. The wooden chair in the corner was no longer facing the wall. It was facing them.
And on the wall, where the chair had been, a new symbol had appeared amongst the graffiti. A symbol that Chloe recognized with a jolt of fear. It was a symbol of summoning.