The Asylum (650 word short story)

(Originally written as an entry in a short story competion of 650 words)

THE ASYLUM

The old Victorian asylum had been closed now for a little over 15 years but somehow the lingering smell of disinfectant still roamed the stale air like that of a rotting corpse. The official word stated that the building had been condemned as structurally unsafe, but the rumours told of something quite different, something much more terrifying. It had been said that there had been an uprising of evil, paranormal events that had plagued the building culminating on that unholiest of days, Hallows Eve, when the building was finally closed.

James had never given into this chain of thought. As far as he was concerned the tales of horror that had been bred from what was now just some unfortunate blot on the towns landscape, were just that, tales, and very tall ones at that. Ghosts, the paranormal, James had never believed in all that. Alex, his better half, had however, and now it had come down to this, a stupid dare of staying the night in what some believed to be the home of the dead.

James forced open the large wooden door with surprising ease. As it fell away from its rusted iron hinges it opened up a path of darkness, broken only by the stray rays of orange light streaming through the broken skylights as the sun began to set. As James entered he started to think that maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea he’d ever had, but there was no way he was going to back out now. Besides he had it all figured out, he was just going to find some relatively draft free dorm and crash out in his sleeping bag till morning. It wasn’t as if there was any hard work involved. Despite this a fearful sweat began to develop on James’ brow as he slowly walked deeper and deeper into the heart of the asylum. For the first time James began to have doubts. What if there was some truth to the stories? There was a lot of them after all. Maybe just maybe, ghosts did exist.

James found a suitable room at the end of the corridor and settled down for the night. He rested his sleeping bag on an old mattress he’d found that had come as a pleasant surprise. This night was going to be more comfortable than he thought.

3 am, the chiming of a grandfather clock rang out through the asylum disturbing James from his sleep. Startled, James clambered out of his sleeping bag to investigate. He was sure he hadn’t seen a clock or for that matter anything else on his journey through the asylum, the place was pretty much stripped bare. It then dawned on him that he’d never heard the clock before. Why now at 3 am, why not at 11 or 12 when the noise would be at its worst. Just then the voices of a thousand tortured souls began to echo down the long corridors of the old Victorian asylum. The broken bulbs in the light fittings suddenly began to flicker into life,

on...

off...

on...

off...

In a panic James began running towards the main exit, tripping over wheelchairs and trolleys, items he was sure weren’t there when he first entered. All the time the voices kept getting louder the screams more painful. As the exit neared the whole building began to shake violently, throwing James once again off his feet. With that a violent crash released a steel beam from the ceiling above, pinning James helplessly to the floor. Within moments the walls surrounding him buckled and collapsed as his world fell in around him.

It took four days to retrieve his body and a further three to bury him once more. No-one understood why it had happened, why James was there. In irony, the event gave credence to the claims of the buildings structural safety, but Alex, she knew different of course, she knew the truth, but she would never say.