Read Online Whispers of Bedlam Asylum (Sigmund Shaw Book 2) by Mark C. King - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark C. King
Ads: Link
back section, but Arthur was kind enough to allow Charlotte to sit in the passenger seat beside him. She had seen this sort of police vehicle driving down the streets on occasion, but never thought she would be inside one. The driver and passenger area was high off the ground, much like a horse drawn carriage, in order to see over the large steam engine. Thankfully, this area was enclosed and decently warm. The car chugged along the cobblestone street, piercing through the rain and fog, until they approached their final turn. It was a short drive to Bedlam from Waterloo and, once again, the ride seemed to pass much too quickly.
Turning onto Lambeth Road provided the first glance of her soon to be home. Initially, she could only make out its massive silhouette, the large dome being the most striking feature. Before long, the six massive columns that stood as sentinels over the entrance could be seen. Charlotte shivered from fright. All the quiet doubts that had been getting louder over the past day were now deafening. This was happening.
Arthur, the constable, pulled the car up to the black iron-bar entrance gates. These large doors looked more than capable of holding in the madness that they protected. The pattern of the iron bars were interrupted by large circular formations that were probably for aesthetics, but looked more like large eyes keeping a sorrowful watch – the rain that dripped off looked like tears. Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat, partially to keep up the appearance of an agitated, unwell person, and partially because she was feeling particularly agitated and unwell. With her hands clasped, resting on top of her dirty and soaked dress, she snuck a glance at Arthur and saw that he did not look particularly comfortable being here either.
Charlotte was thankful that the blue-eyed constable was the one to bring her to Bedlam. His kindness was like a gentle push to keep her heading forward. Perhaps the staff at Bedlam would share his sympathy. The thrumming of the rain was quite loud but easily overwhelmed by the sharp and startling bleat of the car’s siren. Arthur started to sound it sporadically, evidently trying to get the attention of someone to come and open the gate.
Noticing her jump, the constable said, “My apologies, miss. I should have given warning. But there is no way that we are walking from here to the front door in this weather.”
After about a minute of this, a round man in white clothes, carrying an umbrella, walked out of the entrance towards them. It must have been a good hundred yards between the gates and the entrance, but the man did not show any hurry nor any evident concern about the weather. Charlotte’s heart beat faster with each passing moment. She could still get out of this. She could open her door and run, or perhaps explain to Arthur what she was trying to do…
No! She again thought of her husband fearlessly running into the smoke and fire. Perhaps, he was not as fearless as she always believed. Perhaps he was terrified. If that was the case, then it made him more of a hero that despite the fear he must have had, a fear that Charlotte had not appreciated until this very moment, he still faced the danger. She would do no less. He battled an inferno of smoke and fire; she would battle an inferno of madness. Courage , she decided, is not doing what has to be done without fear . No, courage is not letting fear stop you from doing what should be done.
With a little more determination bolstering her will, she watched the man in white open one of the massive gates and walk up to the driver’s car door. The constable released the latch on the window which allowed it to slide down so that he could talk to the man.
Despite the umbrella, the man looked wet, and not particularly happy. With the window down, water was also splashing inside of the cabin and soaking the constable. Charlotte did her best to not look interested in what was
Turning onto Lambeth Road provided the first glance of her soon to be home. Initially, she could only make out its massive silhouette, the large dome being the most striking feature. Before long, the six massive columns that stood as sentinels over the entrance could be seen. Charlotte shivered from fright. All the quiet doubts that had been getting louder over the past day were now deafening. This was happening.
Arthur, the constable, pulled the car up to the black iron-bar entrance gates. These large doors looked more than capable of holding in the madness that they protected. The pattern of the iron bars were interrupted by large circular formations that were probably for aesthetics, but looked more like large eyes keeping a sorrowful watch – the rain that dripped off looked like tears. Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat, partially to keep up the appearance of an agitated, unwell person, and partially because she was feeling particularly agitated and unwell. With her hands clasped, resting on top of her dirty and soaked dress, she snuck a glance at Arthur and saw that he did not look particularly comfortable being here either.
Charlotte was thankful that the blue-eyed constable was the one to bring her to Bedlam. His kindness was like a gentle push to keep her heading forward. Perhaps the staff at Bedlam would share his sympathy. The thrumming of the rain was quite loud but easily overwhelmed by the sharp and startling bleat of the car’s siren. Arthur started to sound it sporadically, evidently trying to get the attention of someone to come and open the gate.
Noticing her jump, the constable said, “My apologies, miss. I should have given warning. But there is no way that we are walking from here to the front door in this weather.”
After about a minute of this, a round man in white clothes, carrying an umbrella, walked out of the entrance towards them. It must have been a good hundred yards between the gates and the entrance, but the man did not show any hurry nor any evident concern about the weather. Charlotte’s heart beat faster with each passing moment. She could still get out of this. She could open her door and run, or perhaps explain to Arthur what she was trying to do…
No! She again thought of her husband fearlessly running into the smoke and fire. Perhaps, he was not as fearless as she always believed. Perhaps he was terrified. If that was the case, then it made him more of a hero that despite the fear he must have had, a fear that Charlotte had not appreciated until this very moment, he still faced the danger. She would do no less. He battled an inferno of smoke and fire; she would battle an inferno of madness. Courage , she decided, is not doing what has to be done without fear . No, courage is not letting fear stop you from doing what should be done.
With a little more determination bolstering her will, she watched the man in white open one of the massive gates and walk up to the driver’s car door. The constable released the latch on the window which allowed it to slide down so that he could talk to the man.
Despite the umbrella, the man looked wet, and not particularly happy. With the window down, water was also splashing inside of the cabin and soaking the constable. Charlotte did her best to not look interested in what was
Similar Books
