Blondie B. Happy: Hey everyone! ChildOfWisdom (a really awesome author) and I have made an account together, and this is our first story! I hope you enjoy! I got the idea of this story from American Horror Story: The Asylum, and from Nellie Bly's asylum expose in the nineteenth century.

ChildOfWisdom: Hi, guys! I'm working with Blondie B. Happy (An incredible author) on this story! She came up with the brilliant plot! I hope you guys like it!

Blondie B. Happy: Enjoy, readers! Chapter two will be posted soon! Sorry about any typos!

Chapter One: 'Local Attractions'?

"I have a job for you."

Finally! I nearly screamed. After being unemployed for four months, living off of what I could scrape up from my dad and stepmom, I finally had a job. After pestering this man constantly for three weeks, he'd finally given me something to do. I felt extremely happy.

Wait… what was the job?

"Great," I said, smiling with fake-sweetness. I wasn't going to be genuinely happy after waiting so long. "So… what is it?"

Mr. D took a sip from his can of coke and then scratched his neck with his greasy fingers. Why was I working for such a pig? The world may never know. "Tell me again, Anniebell-"

"Annabeth," I corrected. Mr. D is such an idiot.

"Whatever. Tell me again, Annabeth, where you used to work."

"The SF times, sir," I answered.

He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm supposed to know what that stands for?"

My shoulders slumped. Before I could flip him off, I calmed myself down and told him, "San Francisco, sir."

"And why did you move here?"

"Personal reasons, sir." He didn't need to know my whole life story, the fat pig. It's not like he'd ever done anything besides eat potato chips and boss people around.

He rolled his eyes. "Hmm, okay. So you've had experience before. And you are how old?"

"Twenty-four, sir."

"Young," he said, studied the desk in front of him. "You're much too young to be doing this report for us. You can go home and call up someone else."

Oh, HELL NO! I have waited too long from him to send me home. What kind of job was he talking about? I'm sure I can handle it…and I really needed this job.

"Sir, please, just tell me the job." I couldn't believe I was begging him.

"You young folk are so annoying," he groaned. "Especially women." THAT SEXIST JERK! I felt like yelling at him, tell him things that I really shouldn't, but I bit my tongue. I couldn't risk losing this job. I just nodded like I understood what he meant. He took this as a sign to continue. "Everyone else had turned down the job. But you seem oh so eager… Well, it's an undercover story. How good's your acting?"

Acting? Is acting what he needed? It took me a second to make up a plan in my head.

I broke down into tears and put my face in my hands. I sobbed into my hands and whipped the wet tears away from my face. I looked up at him after a minute. I knew my face was red. "I-I can't act, s-sir." I let out a huge sob. "This is-isn't for meeee. I should just get up and le-eave."

He looked partially outraged, partially confused. "What in God's name, Anniebell? This isn't any reason do start crying. Just go find a new job at Subway or something."

I perked right up and cracked my neck. "Sir, I am perfectly fine. What are you talking about?" I smirked a little bit.

He cocked his head to one side, and I could see the tiny little wheels creaking inside of his brain. The he let out a laugh. Not the oh-funny-get-out-of-my-sight laugh, but the you're-good-kid laugh.

"Okay, then. How funny. You're a good actress girl. But still, this isn't for the faint hearted."

"What is it?"

"For a few years, we've wanted someone to go undercover in Kingston to the 'local attraction'. You know what I mean?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid not sir. I'm new to the NYC area."

"Ah, I can see." He coughed, and then lit a cigarette in front of my face. I tried not to choke on the smoke. "Well, Kingston is about two hours north, give or take a few depending on the traffic. Beautiful little town, you know. Main Street was named one of America's most beautiful streets. But that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"Don't rush me, girl. Even though Main Street is a great place to go to, the 'local attraction' is on the outskirts of town, in one of those big old houses from the nineteen forties or around then. But it's called Half-Blood Mad House- I mean, Mental Institution."

"I thought mental institutions were hospitals."

"Well, sweetheart, this place is more like a Mad House. It's where you go when you don't have enough money to pay for the good stuff." He said as he leaned back into his chair.

"Lovely. Now, why is this the 'local attraction'?"

"Well, doesn't it just spark your curiosity? People hear screams coming from it all the time. There are a lot psychos in there. But when people come in, they don't come out. Dun, dun, DUN!" He took a puff and then stubbed the cigarette in the ash tray. "But, people like to go there, reminds them of Halloween a bit."

"So, what do you want me to do, sir?"

"People have tried to talk to the owners and patients, but the doors are always locked, and the windows are always closed. I guess they don't like to be bothered. So I want you to go undercover and fake insanity to get in. From inside, I want you to keep a diary recording what's going on. Interview the people in there. We'll get you in about two months."

If I had been drinking water, I would've have spit it all over him. He wanted me to fake a mental illness and stay in that place for two months. "Two months?" I exclaimed. "Why in the world would it take that long?"

"A lot can happen in two months, girl. But, no one's taken the job because of that. All of the reporters here have families and people they need to look after. We're looking for someone who is desperate and had nothing to go back to. If that isn't you, then you can leave."

I gulped. He'd explained my situation pretty well. My dad didn't have time for me, now that he had his new wife and two sons. He claimed that he did, but with his own job and everything, I knew he was stressed enough. And I understood that it was time for me to find a job. Plus, I needed a paycheck, or I would be on the streets dancing for spare change. "No, sir, its perfectly fine. I can do this.

He looked a little shocked. But his expression changed very quickly to indifference. "This is an asylum we're talking about, girl. These people could come and murder you while you're asleep. Are you even prepared for this?"

"Sir, they could also come and have a tea party with me. They are crazy, after all. I won't know, and no one will ever know until someone finds out."

"Alice, listen to me."

"Annabeth," I insisted.

"I really don't care. But, what I was trying to say was that I don't think you're ready. Get a job with another newspaper and come back in a few years. I don't want someone going missing on my shoulders."

"Please. I need the money and no one else is excepting jobs. I'm already going into debt because of the move. I really need this job sir."

For a minute, nothing was said at all. I stared at him, and he stared at his cigarette.

For a while, I stared at him, and he stared at his cigarette. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he set it down in his ash tray and rubbed his hands together. "I want you to report back here on Monday. You got the job. I just hope insanity looks well on you, because I don't see it."

I couldn't believe it…he accepted! If Mr. D had had better hygiene, I would've given him a big hug. "Thank you so much, sir. You won't regret your decision."

"I better not," he grumbled. "If you do what you're supposed to, then your two month salary will be about 4,000 dollars. Plus, if this is actually an interesting report, who knows what you can do afterwards? You can write a book if you want to. Or hold a seminar. Or start a petition or something, I really do not care. The possibilities are endless."

The possibilities are endless… Who knows what I could do? This could make me rich! I could become famous! I could be anything I wanted!

Or, of course, I could lose my job or be killed. Maybe they would never be able to get me out. And if they couldn't get me out, there go all my hopes and dreams. But those were all just risks. I needed to leave my old life behind. Plus, I could do it. I'm Annabeth Chase. I can do anything.

I mean 4,000 dollars? That is amazing in my opinion. I rent my one room apartment for only 500 dollars a month. That left me with about 1,000 dollars for gas, food, electric, and all of those necessities. And then 2,000 dollars in a savings interest account. It would be perfect!

"What time, sir?" I asked.

"Come back to see me at 9 AM. Wear your best clothes. You're going to need to meet some doctors and stuff in the next week. We'll need to make preparations. You'll need a new cell phone, one with a really good camera and audio recording. Obviously, we'll be taking that out of your paycheck though."

I nodded. I should've expected that. "Of course, sir."

Mr. D reached into his desk and pulled out a few papers. It was those normal 'sign here', 'phone here' sheets. After I was finished filling it out, I gave it back to him. He analyzed them for a few seconds, and then turned back to me.

"If I need to get hold of you, I'll give you a text. If you don't answer that, I'll call. And I don't care where you are, you better answer me, or you're done."

By the tone of his voice, I noticed he was dead serious. I nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He stuck out his hand, which I eyed for a minute. Then I realized that he wanted to shake on it. With great reluctance, I shook it once and then pulled back.

"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed."

I left his office and then walked down the number of different hallways. All of the rooms had glass doors, and as I looked inside, every room seemed to be the same. I saw people with sorrow etched into their skin, and people with smiles just as big as mine.

And as I walked out of The New York Times Company and onto the busy New York streets, my smiles got even bigger. I looked at all the people passing me, all the cars...I finally had a reporting job.

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