Read Online The Asylum for Fairy-Tale Creatures by Sebastian Gregory - Free Book Online

Death. Although never directly told about in stories, Grandfather Death was always there. When a princess was locked in a tower or a witch placed a child in a cooking pot, or a boy climbed a beanstalk like a fool, Grandfather Death would lurk in the cracks, waiting.
    Thumbeana turned to Red. “Goodbye,” she said. “Leave safe, for me.” She smiled.
    Before Red Riding Hood could question, Thumbeana threw her arms outstretched, walking into the darkness, and was instantly taken the same way as the others. Except this time Grandfather Death twisted and turned in an apparent silent agony. For Grandfather Death could only take life and Thumbeana was not life. She an un-child; born from death and as poison to the grandfather. It shook for a moment before shrivelling like a worm left in the midday sun. Bones rained from the dark in a clattering crescendo before nothing but a haze the texture of floating ember was left and Grandfather Death was gone.
    Red fell to her knees at the loss of her friend. She felt herself collapsing inside as if her very soul were hurt. It would have been easy to lie there amongst the bone and die of too much heartache, if not for that moment her grandma’s words filling her head.
    “Stick to the path, girl, and you will always be safe.”
    She stood upright again and wiped the tears from her eyes.
    “I will, Grandma,” she said. “I will.”
    Red Riding Hood limped through the bowels of the asylum. Using the keys taken by her friends, she made her way through door after door. It was silent in this part of the asylum, for Grandfather Death had been quarantined as there was no greater madness than death itself. Eventually, unopposed, Red found her way to a set of small stairs that led upwards. She passed a girl on the stairs. The girl was tall, lank and terribly thin. Her bones were as if painted in skin and her straight jacket dripped from her. However even as her blond hair was wasting away by the clump and her crystal blue eyes sat in deep sockets; there was a memory of Beauty about her.  She muttered to herself with cracked lips and black teeth.  “Mustn’t sleep, mustn't sleep, sleep for a hundred years I must not, will not, sleep again.   
    She slid along the stone wall with exhaustion dragging her down. Until finally she fell to the floor in a bony heap and slept the slumber that all living things must eventually surrender to. 
    Slowly Red continued to climb for an unknown amount of time. Stopping to catch her breath and energy, she followed the cold stone beneath her feet. Until finally she came to another door and, fumbling for the right key, she unlocked it.
    Light blinded her, but it was welcome to do so; fresh air bathed and soothed her. She held her hand to protect her eyes. When she adjusted she was in the courtyard of the asylum. The dark crumbling buildings stood like broken giants. Smoke rose from them in places in angry spiralling plumes into the blue sky where ravens circled. Windows were smashed and scattered. Iron bars ripped from the very stone and debris had been thrown to the gravel. The sounds of mania deep in the background of the asylum rose thicker than the smoke. Red limped past the dead and dying and the lost and the insane. No one stopped her. Anyone who had survived the night gave her no attention.
    She saw a girl sitting on a tuffet, eating spiders with curds and whey. A naked man ran past screaming about his set of new clothes. The great black gate had been opened wide and all the asylum’s horses and all the asylum’s men had left, never to be seen again. Red simply stepped through to freedom, for whatever magic had previously parted the forest of thorns had not done so now. The carriages and horses along with any passenger and driver had gone to their doom. Broken and twisted, the corpse of carriage and flesh alike. They were held fast by thorns like broken baubles on a horrific Christmas tree. She walked to that wall of twisted tendrils of the evil