In a not-so-well known corner of Germany, there is a highway that twines through a pine forest. There are surrounding provincial towns that are easily accessible at any turn off from the road. If one takes a twisting route further up into the incline, to where the blue spruces grow more erratic, they would meet an iron gate. Expansive gardens roll up to the iron barriers in skeletal waves.

A hidden building looms here like an ancient dragon, secluded in its forgotten fortress. Its many peaked windows stare out onto its domain, filled with an imperceptible personality. They light up with orange light at night like gleaming fires, where mysterious pagan rituals take place behind those secretive walls… at least for the children who have listened to the old wives tales, and peer with wide eyes into the house of the mentally insane.

People call it the Schmerzen Asylum. The name itself seems ominous, but no one ever bothered to change it after decades of it being that way. Animals on two legs covert this place, wrapped in lab coats, jeans or straitjackets, the good doctors oversee that nothing becomes “too out of hand,” and that the disturbed do not overrun their ranks. Despite its new additions, one can’t deny that the place is whispering old secrets. The patients will sense the walls trying to communicate at some point during their stay. Behind those whispering walls are tales, but for now, Schmerzen and its residents wait for someone to expose them.