𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 , 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜…
On the day it is due to be demolished , Seven bodies are recovered from Hellsleigh, the most infamous asylum in the country ,which has lay derelict for the last 30 years.
𝟮𝟰 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗘𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿:
On the eve of its planned demolition famed parapsychologist and author, Brandon Fiske and his team of paranormal investigators break into the abandoned hospital determined to find proof of its supernatural powers.
Local villager, Jason Hough who’s past is connected to Hellsleigh returns for one last visit along with a group of university students in search of a place to party.
But neither groups are aware that they have entered Hellsleigh on a very special anniversary, a time of evil the building remembers only too well…
𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝 , 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚.
After Melanie had dragged him across the floor, he’d felt himself being tugged for a long time, until he’d been dragged upstairs, hitting his head on every step. Now, he had no idea where he was. He didn’t know how long he’d been strapped to this leather bed, or whatever it was; he could’ve been here for a matter of minutes for all he knew, however it felt like a lifetime. He tried swallowing. His throat was so dry, he wasn’t physically able to produce saliva. He cried out in pain, waiting to die. Why wasn’t he dead already? How could a person feel this much pain? It wasn’t fair! He wanted out.
Something squeaked to his left. It had to be a rat, or rats. He tried turning his head, like the act itself might somehow bring his sight back. He could feel his eyes were open; the only thing he could see was blackness, interspersed with shooting, bright white lights. Please, someone kill me, he tried saying.
There was a creak in front of him. He tried lifting his head.
“William.” The voice was familiar.
He wished he could see; it sounded like Brandon’s voice. He tried calling out to him, except his throat was too dry to produce any sounds. “B…” Was all that escaped him. He lay back, praying for death to take him.
“How are we today, William?” The voice asked.
It was Brandon; he was certain of it. He wasn’t listening to the voice. All he could focus on was the stabbing pains all over his body; over his legs and feet; over his crotch and stomach. It felt like a million, a zillion, red hot pins and needles poking his skin simultaneously, taunting him, telling him death was near. It wasn’t near enough for him; he welcomed the relief.
The voice was still talking, not that he was listening. It was asking him what he knew about Annie? He’d never met anyone called Annie before. It still sounded like Brandon. He tried speaking again. “B..R..A..N…” He couldn’t do it; it hurt his throat too much, each letter making his mouth drier and more painful…
Newman bent over, his face but centimetres from William’s. What had the matron said? That William had the mental age of a five-year-old? Not a bit of it; he knew he was in trouble. “Don’t look so worried, William, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he said, seeing the fear in the lad’s eyes. “I just need to know what Annie’s been talking to you about,” He stood up straight and looked down at the restrained young man. It was hard looking at that badly burnt face. “Come on now, you can tell me. I’m your doctor, William, you can trust me. What have you been talking to Annie about? I promise, I won’t be mad at you. In fact, I’ll even give you
sweeties if you’re a good boy and tell me what I want to know. You want sweeties, don’t you?”
Dion! Is that you? I can hear you. Where are you? I can’t see you! Where’s Mel?
Newman gripped his ear, the ringing more like a drill in his head. He cried out in pain, fighting it, willing it to go away. And as quickly as it came on, it vanished. After tonight, he would visit his local doctor and see if there was anything he could do about it. After thirty seconds the ringing stopped, leaving him free to continue questioning William. “Don’t make me ask you again, William. If I have to, I’ll leave you with Nurse Baxter and Nurse Reid. You don’t want me to do that, do you? Focus, William, focus. Annie, what has she been talking to you about, hmm?”
“I want my Mammy.” William shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks onto the headrest of the treatment chair. “I want my Mammy.”
“Nurse Baxter,” he cried, as the door creaked behind him followed by footsteps. “It looks like William here isn’t being very co-operative. I think he might need some more treatment. What do we do to uncooperative patients?” Baxter walked up to William’s headrest and hovered over him, lowering his mouth to the young lad’s ear. Baxter creeped Newman out, which was partly why he needed him.
Thank you, D.C. Brockwell and Zooloo’s Book Tours
About the author
Duncan Brockwell is a full-time dental technician from West Sussex. Having completed his course at Lambeth College in 2018, he started writing in his spare time. An avid gardener and part-time mixologist, he loves nothing more than relaxing at home with his wife, Beks and pure white rescue cat, Milly. Since Duncan started writing in 2018, he has written thirteen novels, nine of which have been, or are in the process of being published. Unlike a lot of authors, Duncan feels he is a hobby writer, toiling away on his purple couch in front of the TV in the evenings and weekends. He wants nothing more than for readers to enjoy his various offerings, ranging from romantic comedy (under pseudonym Katie Simpkins) to hardcore blood and guts horror and everything in between (Under either DC Brockwell or Duncan Brockwell).