The Lost and the Damned by Dennis Liggio Read Free Book Online Page A

aren’t from around here,” she said, “and I know you’re not here to see the sights.”
    “No,” I said with a smile, “definitely not for the sights.”
    “Relative?” she asked, nodding her head in the direction of the hospital.
    “Nah,” I said. “I just like going off the beaten path.”
    She poured me coffee without even asking. “Nothing wrong with that, not typical though. You write for a travel magazine or something?”
    “Maybe someday,” I said, “But not now. I just like seeing hidden America.  And it seems like this place is very hidden,” I said, looking around.
    “Not really hidden, sugar,” she said. “Just old, forgotten. Old places like this aren’t popular locations. Why would people want to see an old broken down mental hospital when they could see some colonial inn or battle site? We don’t get many tourists.” She chuckled. “Any. We really don’t get any tourists.”
    “But then why are you here? How do you stay in business with only the 200-some-odd residents of the town?”
    She laughed. “Don’t believe that sign out there. The town doesn’t have two-hundred residents. Not how you’d think. Most of the two hundred are up there,” she said, nodding toward the hospital again. “There’s only a handful of us in town. I do most of my business with visitors. Relatives, friends, doctors. It’s the only reason I’m still here. Sometimes I even wonder why I stay…”
    “So the hospital is still open?” I said, genuinely surprised. “I mean, it looks so… I thought it was closed down.”
    “It was. Well, almost,” she said. Since the diner was empty, she was very talkative. “Its heyday was back in the thirties. My grandma told me what it was like at that time. Construction going on continually, not enough room for all the patients. It was not only mental patients but also some patients with chronic health issues. But as time went on, mental health care changed. Institutionalization was unpopular and there were budget cuts.  They started shutting down entire wings. In the Eighties they had to discharge a bunch of people due to big budget cuts. That was a dark time for this town. My mom retired during that time, said she didn’t want to run a diner that no one went to. I took over the diner and nearly went bankrupt keeping it afloat. If it wasn’t for my regulars, I’d be out on the streets. In the mid Eighties, there wasn’t anyone coming to visit, because almost no one was up at the Beast. Then –“
    “The Beast?” I asked.
    She had an embarrassed smile, like I had caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. “That’s… That’s what we call it,” she said, nodding toward the hospital again. “Locals. In private. It’s just… when you look it up there on that hill, especially at night, it just looks… horrifying….” She trailed off, she smile disappearing from her face as she stared into space. She caught herself and smiled at me. “You won’t tell anyone, right? I try not to say it in front of visitors. Nobody wants to think of their loved one at ‘The Beast’. But you don’t have anyone here, so it’s okay, right? I’m sorry if I offended, but…”
    “It’s okay,” I said reassuringly, “I won’t tell.”
    “The name fits it perfectly, doesn’t it?” she laughed. “Just so creepy up there. I don’t even go any closer to it than here and I’m still sometimes scared to get into my car at night. Imagine me, a grown woman, afraid of a glorified haunted house!” She laughed again. “I don’t know if it’s haunted, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I wouldn’t be surprised.”
    “I’m not much for ghosts anyway,” I said. “But you were saying, back in the mid Eighties?”
    “Oh yes, I completely derailed myself!” she said. “I’m just a talker, hun, so bear with me. I ramble. Oh, did you want something to eat? I gave you coffee but maybe you want something else.”
    “For now, I’m mainly looking for a cup