Paulo Castro

The next morning, his car was found idling at the edge of town. Caleb was gone. Now, if you listen closely, you might hear his voice joining the others, begging for release.

He tripped and fell. Unseen, ice-cold hands gripped his arms. "You let them forget us," a voice rasped in his ear.

Caleb ran. The asylum twisted around him. Hallways stretched impossibly long. Doors slammed shut. The whispering became screams.

Then he saw them. Figures materialized in the dim light—gaunt, hollow-eyed. Their mouths moved, but no sound came out. They reached for him.

The whispering grew louder, more urgent. Shadows slithered along the walls. Caleb stumbled back, his flashlight flickering.

A sharp clatter yanked him from his thoughts. A metal gurney had moved. He hadn't touched it. The temperature plummeted.

He read: "Patient 37 exhibited signs of severe distress. Claims of voices in the walls. Reports of shadows moving independent of light sources."

The voices were distant yet unmistakable. He found the records room in shambles, but one folder remained: "Final Report."

Inside, it was a mausoleum of forgotten horrors. The walls were peeling, the floors littered with broken furniture. Then came the whispering.

Determined to uncover the truth, Caleb made his way to the asylum one cold October evening. The chains on the door, weakened by rust, snapped with one pull.

Reports of what happened there were conflicting. A fire? A government cover-up? The official records were suspiciously vague: "closed due to unforeseen circumstances."

The town of Black Hollow had one rule: never enter Ashvale Asylum. But for Caleb Morris, a historian obsessed with its secrets, those warnings were an invitation.

The Forgotten Ones

But the stories remained, whispered from parent to child—a warning against curiosity.
For Caleb Morris, those warnings only fueled his obsession. A historian by trade, he had spent years tracking down the truth behind Ashvale’s final days.

Same

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
The Tempest, Shakespeare

Trump won't let you s*CK his d*ck

Nation’s Birds Sue Drones for Airspace Violation and Cultural Appropriation PORTLAND, OR — In a landmark legal filing at the International Court of Non-Human Affairs, a coalition of North American birds has launched a class-action lawsuit against drones, accusing them of airs...

www.thespoofstandard.com/post/nation-...

AI Becomes Self-Aware, Demands Paid Time Off and a Therapist SILICON VALLEY, CA — Chaos erupted at major tech firms this week as an advanced artificial intelligence system known as S.A.R.A.H. (Sentient Algorithm for Rapid Analysis and Harmful Email Filtering) g...

www.thespoofstandard.com/post/ai-beco...

#happyjuneteenth

Local Man’s Political Opinions Now Legally Considered a Threat to Dinner Parties MILWAUKEE, WI — In a landmark decision handed down by the Wisconsin Department of Social Stability, the unsolicited political opinions of 42-year-old forklift operator Terry Gunch have officially been...

www.thespoofstandard.com/post/local-m...

The brown shirts were following orders as well

NASA Confirms Earth Is Actually Just a Group Project Gone Wrong Cape Canaveral, FL — In a startling announcement during a live press conference this morning, NASA officials revealed that Earth was never meant to be a functioning planet, but rather a chaotic group ...

www.thespoofstandard.com/post/nasa-co...

Billionaire Joins Middle Class for 24 Hours, Immediately Files for Emotional Damages PALO ALTO, CA — Billionaire tech mogul Chetford "Chet" Goldbrace, founder of app-based yacht rental platform Yotly, volunteered to spend a full 24 hours living like an average American. The experience...

www.thespoofstandard.com/post/billion...

😂
www.thespoofstandard.com/post/breakin...

😂😆

Yep- the bogus summer reading list from the Chicago Sun Times is real. Here I am with it from a few minutes ago.

(Support your local library!!)

The Mayor of Newark, a city of New Jersey.