Investigations

I decided to take a chance and visit someone today. Peter Lorri was the previous caretaker and he went mad. And there was no tree when he was hired only about four years ago. I took all freeways and direct routes over on to the hospital. I don't want to stick near the forests. I don't trust the trees. When I walk by them, some of them rustle at me. Some of them fall over in the path in front of me. I don't trust the trees anymore.

Anyways, I went to the Greyson Mental Institute looking for some answers. The outside was grey. Painfully grey. Bleak and without thought or emotion. I guess it makes sense, considering some of the patients. They probably don't want them over-emotional.

In any case, I was met with Dr. Masque. I basically told him what I was here for.

"So, Mr. Mills, you say that you're here to question a poor, defenseless delusional man?"

I asked him what Mr. Lorri's mental illness was.

'A few things. Schizophrenia, auditory hallucinations, disassociative identity disorder... may I ask why you wanted to see him?'

I told him part of my situation. I couldn't tell him the whole thing. He'd have me committed here as soon as possible, or pester me into admitting myself. Whichever came first. I also told- a small stretcher. I told him it was for a chance to get into the journalism field instead of the janitorial business. He decided to allow it after about thirty minutes of conversation.

We walked along the empty, completely square, completely clean hallways. Some orderlies were passing by, gave me a quick glance then went on doing their work. The same work I do- except with some security-type activities, should the need arise.

When we entered Peter Lorri's room, the doctor originally didn't notice anything wrong. He shined a light into Lorri's eyes, and checked his pulse when he realised that Lorri was awake, but not conscious. Then he checked the back of Lorri's head. "...he's been lobotomized."

I asked him when did he get scheduled for lobotomy. He replied that it wasn't their handiwork. He then invited me to see the stitches. The stitches of web and bark. I could see the marks where branched, bony fingers tore open the flesh and skull. There was still a sharp, pointed small thorn lodged in the back of his head.

Dr. Masque ushered me out of the room. I heard the police sirens coming from far off as soon as I was about a block or two away. I don't know what happened to Lorri. The local news is still investigating the incident, trying to figure out who, how, or why. What is known is that the victim recieved a full frontal lobotomy, making him into a blind deaf-mute. ...it's terrifying to think about it. I'm going up against some psycho creature I can't explain that can have me rendered a vegetable with just a word.

But maybe this thing doesn't exist.
This thing can't exist.
The tree was uprooted from somewhere and placed somewhere else.
The lobotomy was caused by some environmentalist nutjob.
The three children's disappearances were probably some kidnapper or pedophile.
But a living creature with black, bleeding eyes?
Impossible.