The Shadows Inside

They said the old woman had gone mad. The grandchildren whispered it when they thought she was asleep. Neighbours who once greeted her at the gate now crossed to the other side, shaking their heads. She had begun talking to the corners of her house, scolding shadows no one else could see. When her daughter placed trembling hands on the admission papers, the destiny of the old woman was sealed.

The asylum stood at the edge of the city, surrounded by trees that never seemed to sway, as if frozen in time. Its gates opened with a groan that seemed to echo too long, as if unwilling to let her leave once she entered. The walls inside were damp, with stains that looked like faces melted halfway into the plaster. The smell of bleach mixed with something older, like dust that had been locked inside for decades.

Her room was bare: a narrow bed, steel railings, a small covered window, and a single dim bulb that buzzed at night. Silence here was different. It didn’t soothe her—it pressed into her chest until she felt she could not breathe.