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Tuesday 14 October 2014

Short Story: The Ghost of Glenside

This is my first attempt at a short story for a magazine in a long time! The magazine asked for a Halloween-esqe short story, so this is based off of my girlfriends university accommodation that was once a asylum for the insane. Relatively generic I know, but who doesn't look a classically cheesy horror story for Halloween? Exactly.


Click click click THUD. Click click click THUD. The monotonous beat beats on. Three taps of the knuckle, one slam of the skull. Click click click THUD. The patriotic sound of the insane asylum, the national anthem of the crazy box. Wallow knows this song all too well. She knows it will continue long after the box has consumed her, long after it has consumed everything. When every star has been devoured by supermassive black holes, every quasar of light vacuumed from every galaxy, all that shall be left is the void – and the everlasting click click click THUD; the national anthem of the crazy box.

Wallow still remembers the days before the box claimed her. Before it’s surgically dressed minions stole her from the twilight of her father’s farm, from the smell of pollen and rapeseed, revealing their dirtied souls in the process which the clinical cloaks withheld. She remembered running through the forest, feeling the tickle of branches, playing hide and seek with the invisible forest creatures, inevitably losing (for who can beat an invisible creature at hide and seek?) yet relishing in the chase nonetheless. She remembers creating dens underneath the roots of great oaks, how the walls and the dirt and the creatures made her feel so secure, so strong. It was the same reason she hid underneath shelly, the victim of a misfired shot of her father, when he came looking for her. It was the same reason the clinical minions had to drag her from her mother’s cold arms before she would be taken to the box. It was the same reason why she was a part of the box, and the box a part of her.

The box understood her, it relished her company and she relished its. When they forced her outside, to wander the grounds and watch the squirrels, hoping nostalgia and oxygen might set her asphyxiated mind straight, she would sob and screech and scratch herself until she was returned to the box, its four strong walls. No mountings, no furnishings, nothing but the confinement of space, the playground of her soul.

But one night they violated her sanctified temple. The clinical men. One night they had the audacity to interrupt her anthem. Click Click Cli.. Nothing. They dragged her out from her box. Against the scraping and snapping of nails, the biting, carnivorous and wild, would not stop them either. Kicking and screaming, Wallow was taken away, the red of her blood staining the whitewashed walls.

Before she had felt so strong, so secure, yet she knew that the box giveth, so the box may taketh away. It minions were relentless and colossal, pinning her into the chair. Screams, chants, curses – nothing deterred them. Wallow did not stop howling until the needle was lodged between her eye and into the recesses of her mind, allowing her the sweet release of lobotomised dreaming.

She can no longer find her way back to the box. The corridors get longer, the light source dims until she wanders putting faith that this place would not place something in front of her, it would not hurt her. Creeping through the endless labyrinth, she drags her nails all the way, scratching the plaster from the walls, a twisted trail of breadcrumbs.

Wallow was wrong. The box was not her protector but her captor, her puppet master. Long after the asylum was shut, long after the streams of young nurses began to move into the box to study the profession of the clinical minions, bringing with them the innocence of youth, the blessing of a healthy mind, Wallow continued to wander. Forever searching again for the safety of her confinement – her playground – leaving nail scratches, much to the confusion of the nurses, all the way.

Click Click Click THUD. Eternal and omnipresent, the beat beats on.

 

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