Read Online Asylum - 13 Tales of Terror by Matt Drabble - Free Book Online
Authors: Matt Drabble
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crowd. A large dark salon car had swerved sideways and two wheels had mounted the pavement. There was a female body laying sprawled across the car bonnet and her dead eyes stared back up at him through heavily made up smoky black lids.
Two days later Duncan was sitting in a quiet café nursing a coffee; the once hot liquid was now rapidly cooling. His hands were wrapped around the still warm mug and the sharp tension of not sleeping was now being replaced by a soft foggy haze. The voice was now a part of him; it governed his life and shaped his days. He no longer had the fight left in him to even argue, if the voice told him to jump then he would only ask how high. He was vaguely aware that he must be suffering some kind of breakdown but his sleep deprivation had left him unable to process the facts.
The waitress walked past his table; her not unappealing pert behind jiggled past inside a black cotton skirt. He merely obeyed and reached out with a finger and thumb in a pincer motion. The waitress yelped and whirled around angrily; she slapped his face and he took it with a growing acceptance. The voice laughed riotously inside his head; it seemingly never tired of the familiar prank. He had pinched more bottoms than he could count in the last two days. He had been slapped, punched, threatened, abused and even propositioned once. He had found that if he obeyed his orders then no-one came to any serious harm. So far the voice seemed content with relatively harmless, almost childish actions. He didn’t like to think about the day when immature pranks would no longer suffice.
He stood and wandered out of the café; his weary body shuffling across the linoleum floor, accompanied by the harsh glares of the other patrons. His natural anonymity had so far meant that no-one had provided the police with any detailed descriptions. He could only hope that they had bigger fish to fry than a bum pincher.
“In there,” the voice directed him to a supermarket.
Duncan could only follow; part of him wondered just how long this was all going to take. If he was truly going mad then surely at some point he would either collapse, be arrested, or sectioned.
The voice was whispering again, he’d missed it through his sheer exhaustion; it wasn’t a good thing to try the voice’s patience he had already found to his cost.
“I can’t,” he said after catching the instructions laid out for a second time. His voice was hoarse and desperately sad, “Please just let me sleep.”
A woman serving behind a deli counter suddenly began coughing violently; her skinny body began jerking and retching. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and pretty, her curly blonde hair fell in waves from under her white hygiene hat. She wore a white overcoat and matching apron; her nails were manicured and sat beneath clear gloves as she worked. Under other circumstances Duncan might have watched her from afar, not quite daring to approach her for conversation, instead ending up with a multitude of unwanted delicacies from her counter. But now he could only watch as her face turned blue and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as her coughs were silenced and she began to choke soundlessly.
“Alright, alright,” he told the voice wearily.
The woman suddenly began to hitch and cough noisily again as her chest heaved in great gulps of precious air. Her male companion on the counter pounded her on the back in panic. Her face began to fill with color again and she slapped the back thumping hand away.
Duncan did as he was instructed; he climbed up onto a large display advertising washing detergent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted loudly, “Your attention please,” he said following his internal script. “Today’s special, sausage, buy one get one free.” With that he dropped his pants and fluttered free in the breeze. All the while during his humiliation he watched the girl from the counter; she was shaken but apparently thankfully unharmed.
He
Two days later Duncan was sitting in a quiet café nursing a coffee; the once hot liquid was now rapidly cooling. His hands were wrapped around the still warm mug and the sharp tension of not sleeping was now being replaced by a soft foggy haze. The voice was now a part of him; it governed his life and shaped his days. He no longer had the fight left in him to even argue, if the voice told him to jump then he would only ask how high. He was vaguely aware that he must be suffering some kind of breakdown but his sleep deprivation had left him unable to process the facts.
The waitress walked past his table; her not unappealing pert behind jiggled past inside a black cotton skirt. He merely obeyed and reached out with a finger and thumb in a pincer motion. The waitress yelped and whirled around angrily; she slapped his face and he took it with a growing acceptance. The voice laughed riotously inside his head; it seemingly never tired of the familiar prank. He had pinched more bottoms than he could count in the last two days. He had been slapped, punched, threatened, abused and even propositioned once. He had found that if he obeyed his orders then no-one came to any serious harm. So far the voice seemed content with relatively harmless, almost childish actions. He didn’t like to think about the day when immature pranks would no longer suffice.
He stood and wandered out of the café; his weary body shuffling across the linoleum floor, accompanied by the harsh glares of the other patrons. His natural anonymity had so far meant that no-one had provided the police with any detailed descriptions. He could only hope that they had bigger fish to fry than a bum pincher.
“In there,” the voice directed him to a supermarket.
Duncan could only follow; part of him wondered just how long this was all going to take. If he was truly going mad then surely at some point he would either collapse, be arrested, or sectioned.
The voice was whispering again, he’d missed it through his sheer exhaustion; it wasn’t a good thing to try the voice’s patience he had already found to his cost.
“I can’t,” he said after catching the instructions laid out for a second time. His voice was hoarse and desperately sad, “Please just let me sleep.”
A woman serving behind a deli counter suddenly began coughing violently; her skinny body began jerking and retching. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and pretty, her curly blonde hair fell in waves from under her white hygiene hat. She wore a white overcoat and matching apron; her nails were manicured and sat beneath clear gloves as she worked. Under other circumstances Duncan might have watched her from afar, not quite daring to approach her for conversation, instead ending up with a multitude of unwanted delicacies from her counter. But now he could only watch as her face turned blue and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as her coughs were silenced and she began to choke soundlessly.
“Alright, alright,” he told the voice wearily.
The woman suddenly began to hitch and cough noisily again as her chest heaved in great gulps of precious air. Her male companion on the counter pounded her on the back in panic. Her face began to fill with color again and she slapped the back thumping hand away.
Duncan did as he was instructed; he climbed up onto a large display advertising washing detergent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted loudly, “Your attention please,” he said following his internal script. “Today’s special, sausage, buy one get one free.” With that he dropped his pants and fluttered free in the breeze. All the while during his humiliation he watched the girl from the counter; she was shaken but apparently thankfully unharmed.
He
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