December 22nd, 2012
Hemmingwell Asylum For The Mentally Different, Wellingborough, England
A bolt of lightning lit up the dark rooms with an earsplitting crack. Fork lightning was rare these days, but when it came, it certainly came with a bang. Just as it did tonight, as one of the stone gargoyles fell from its perch on the side of the titanic building. Altthough, describing it as titanic does not really give the original Titanic a fair representation. It was the sort of place you would expect filming for a new Dracula movie remake: a gargantuan building, totally out of place amongst the district of smaller, seemingly insignificant rows of houses that surrounded it.
The cleaner, his name was Jack, cursed as he stepped on one of the fragments of gargoyle. He looked down at it, his weak eyes barely seeing it in the darkness and hazy effect that the fast falling rain had on the landscape. The rain drops fell in quick succession, falling onto the uneven pavement before ricochetting off into oblivion. Jack, who had by now finished his shift, kicked the fragments to one side and walked away, whistling happily.
As he rounded a bend, he noticed a moving shadow from inside the main entranceway. He tutted furiously. All the patients should be locked away in their rooms at this hour. He checked his watch quickly with an abrupt flick of his wrist. Yes, they should all be in their rooms.
He pushed open the heavy wooden door and suspected that the builders had only added this to fit the horrific decor, none of which was clearly visible aside from one spotlight which threw a stomach-curdling sight into view.
Jack's eyes widened as he surveyed the scene: a headless corpse swung from a rope, tied by its ankles. Blood stained the walls and three words could be made out, written in spiky capitals:
"NOT MY SUPERIOR"
Jack suveyed the uniform hurriedly: a faint blue/grey jacket covered a white shirt. The man was of an average build and a nametag on his shirt revealed him to be Ross Wilson, the manager, if such a position could be called so, of this place.
Jack stepped back, heart pounding as he took his mobile phone out of his pocket, hands fumbling with the blasted thing. He unlocked it, before dialling 999. He held the phone to his ear shakily, before the phone beeped loudly: no signal. He cursed loudly, echoing through the corridor.
His phone fell from his hand and broke on the floor. He looked around before bending down to pick the pieces up. Footsteps sounded behind him but, before he could turn around, everything descended into darkness....