Day 8
Full Disclosure:
They toured the house with the real estate agent.
"We love it," he said. "Is there anything we should know about the house's past?"
The agent looked down.
~~~
Of course the agent had planned his response, should this question be brought up, but nothing he could say would mask the true history of this house.
In 1940, a break through in psychological health had been made by Freeman and Watts. The infamous Lobotomy. Lobotomies for psychiatric patients were sweeping the globe. It was the miracle cure that these patients needed! Which is just what Jack Writte had thought.
Dr. Writte was an eccentric man, always buying in to the latest fads whether it was for fashion or for fun. His job included closely working with psychiatric patients on the daily. He was always attempting to understand the way their minds worked. He was also a little bit crazy himself.
Dr.Writte, upon hearing about the newest trend in crazy care, decided that he himself had to see what all of the fuss was about. Being a doctor and all, he thought what could go wrong?
One slow afternoon at the psychiatric ward, Dr. Writte had an epiphany. He had discussed with his colleagues earlier in the day about starting on a trial for lobotomies. His colleagues were much less enthusiastic about the supposed cure for all, which left Dr. Writte in dejected spirits. But then came the epiphany! He decided that if the hospital wouldn't back him, he would have to take matters into his own hands.
From the outside, this beautiful 3 bedroom home did not seem to come from the hell of histories past.
Patient after patient slowly began to vanish from the psychiatric ward, much to the shock of the hospital, they seemed to vanish without a trace. 4 in total were gone by the end of the week. Police had come to investigate the manner, but there were no clues as to where they could have gone and the investigation soon ran cold.
Dr. Writte was a sly man, until his deathbed, his actions had rested only with him and his many victims, both patients and not.
It was only after his death were the bodies slowly discovered, in walls, under the cellar floor boards, buried next to the rose bushes in the front yard. Yet worst of all, was that all of the deaths had appeared to be from botched lobotomies.
The sun had set enough to perfectly align with the slit of the blinds, blinding the agent and bringing him back to the present.
With a smile, the agent remarked, "Why, of course not! Don't you worry about a thing, this house is as clean as a whistle."
