Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum by Stephen Prosapio Read Free Book Online Page A

will,” she said. “I’ll save the network a whole lot
of money and I’ll move on to another project. I don’t need this shit.”
    Zach was pretty sure that she was bluffing,
but she sure sounded convincing. He wondered if his own face had turned as red
as Bryce’s had. Nearby patrons had paused their meals, stopped being coy and
were just staring at them.
    “Or,” her diatribe continued, “we can all
play nicely. Put aside our egos and give this project two days of intense
focus. We need some good stuff. Yes, Zach, some dramatic stuff.”
    “Sara, I told you, we can’t control how
dramatic our findings are.”
    “Yes, but you know this place. You’ve seen
the case file— it’s ripe with legend and strange activity. People are not going
to want to see a Halloween Special that merely debunks urban legends for ninety
minutes. Some of the rumors have to come from authentic paranormal activity.
How could it not be? The place is a former insane asylum.”
    “Former psychiatric hospital .”
    “Zach.”
    She had a point. This case had more
potential for what they called in the business an “intelligent haunting,” than
any case they’d filmed during their abbreviated first season; the “trial
season” as Sara had called it.
    “Listen,” Bryce said, looking at Sara. “You
know that I can be as good of a team player as the next guy. I agreed to use
you as our producer rather than our own, and I’m cool with that. I just don’t
want my team treated as an afterthought.”
    Sara fixed her steel glare on Bryce, and
then alternated it on both him and Zach. “Look guys, I know the potential is
here for a phenomenal show. If we do this right, the network may even give both
shows two or three year deals. That doesn’t include syndication, specials,
foreign rights, licensing, etcetera, etcetera – provided neither of you fucks
this up.”
    “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones,”
Zach said.
    Bryce nodded. “Ditto.”
    Zach held his hand out across the table.
Bryce shook hands firmly, but Zach couldn’t help but notice that the entire
length of the handshake Bryce Finman never made eye contact.

 
    Chapter Six
     
    After the uncomfortable truce, things had
gone moderately well at lunch—Zach even agreed to allow Bryce his infamous
“BryceCam,” a tiny video camera which he wore attached to his belt buckle. It
rarely contributed videos of anything except images of chaotic activity, but
Zach didn’t want to make a stink over something so trivial. After lunch, he had
needed to clear his head and had driven east through a few questionable
neighborhoods to Pullman.
    Zach arrived at Rosewood Psychiatric
Hospital just as the sun was setting. The clear autumn sky held captive
peach-orange hues and illuminated Rosewood’s grounds in a peculiar glow. As
Zach peered across the weed-strewn lot at the three-story asylum, he felt as if
he was staring at a sepia-toned photograph. He could imagine the property as it
might have been a hundred years ago: The inclined path to the brick asylum
would have been well kept and welcoming. Two massive oak trees spaced forty
feet apart and standing between the pathway and 115th Street may have been mere
saplings when Rosewood opened. The asylum’s clock tower in the center of the
wide angled L-shaped building would be sturdy instead of besieged by the
elements. As opposed to having its hands stuck at 12:43, the clock would keep
accurate time. Had he stood there a century earlier, the fountain in the middle
of the circular driveway in front of the building wouldn’t have been cracked or
damaged; water would have jettisoned into the fresh country air plummeting down
into a basin pool, flowing over into the main receptacle.
    A line of trees concealed the back fence,
but in Zach’s vision, the wooded area extended as far as the eye could see.
Visitors, men in derbies and women wearing Victorian hats, strolled along tended
garden paths near the south end of the property. Others