The Asylum of Brookwich. Part 1.

  It was nearly half-past midnight. The cobblestoned streets were bare and dimly lit by the guttering candle-lamps. Although nearly all residents were tucked in cozily within the safety of their warm, comfortable homes, there was no silence. The unruly town of Brookwich was surrounded by the passing tracks of rushing steam locomotives. Echoes of shrieks and cries never ceased to go off day and night from the archaic building that stood in the heart of town�"The Asylum of Brookwich, est.1874.

  And there, in an immaculate cell within the juvenile ward, Katia Parker lay still; eyes open and unable to shut. Her fingers shakily clutching the iron railings of her bed as the blood-curdling screams pierced her easily hurt ears. Sleep. She wished desperately to close her eyes and rid herself of the continuous agony, if only for a while. The searing liquid they had injected beneath her skin only hours ago incited her wanting to cry out. And yet, she does not. Why must she give them the satisfaction of hearing her tortured screams? Screaming would only increase the pain, she knew without being taught. She could tell; every night as she lay awake on her cold, steely bed, usually in a daze, she heard the others’ spine-chilling cries. All of a sudden, they would stop, and the stillness that followed would frighten her more than the noise. 

  With her head throbbing, Katia sat up the edge of her bed. Running a trembling hand over her watery eyes, she walked unsteadily toward the slatted window. It had been weeks since she last did as much as peek out, which had ended with her in a straightjacket in a padded cell, detained for who knows how long; for a reason so thoroughly far-fetched that even she had felt a pang of doubt as the words stumbled hysterically out of her mouth. Never had the thought of witnessing him yet again crossed her mind, but it did, that night. Just as she did now.

  The sly glimpse of the silver-eyed stranger, the peering silver contained by nighttimes’ darkness, they rousted Katia from her endless daze. The lone window obliterated nothing from her gaze of the steep, windswept hill the Asylum overlooked.

Author's Note

What do you think so far?

Reviews

[Upinthewoods]

I thought it was great. I loved the descriptions and I'm intrigued to hear more.

[tshigg]

I like it. I want more details though. Tell me about the room, the building, her description. keep going!

[Detective Watts]

Great imagery. And your using semi-colons, put .'s after your acronyms, use the word others' correctly and seem to know what slatted means. At age 14 that's seriously impressive.

[Short.Nerd]

Nice

[Matt Pellegrini]

"And yet, she does not." The tense seems wrong here.

I really liked the first paragraph. It was a nice set up and does a great job of establishing "place" in such a short space.

I liked the end too. The silver-eyed stranger. Intriguing. I felt the middle was a little slow. I'd either go with more, and a lot more to really set the awfulness of the scene in the asylum, the screams, and Katia herself...or just go with less, since most is detail with not quite as big influence as you'd want.

Personally, I'd go with more. Can't hurt. But for the 2nd paragraph, I'd think either more or less would strengthen it.

I'm curious what those words that stumbled out of her mouth were that even she doubted.

[Joshua Smit]

weird, disturbing, scary.... Good