Asylum - 13 Tales of Terror by Matt Drabble Read Free Book Online Page B

robber as he seemed to cast little shadow over the world. He would find himself on far too many occasions having to reintroduce himself to people that he had actually met several times before. He was around six feet tall and shoulder broad; his middle was thicker than he would have liked, but eating was his crutch. His overweight frame was the convenient reason that he could point to for his general unhappiness. If only he was thinner then life would be better, but he knew deep down that he would never put the theory to the test. His hair was shaved short, mainly because he lacked ambition or imagination towards his appearance. His face was round; his eyes were a common hazel and he wore a chinstrap beard as he felt that the hair made his face look a little less like a beach ball.
    He looked up to the large station clock that hung on the railway station wall; it read 6:37pm. The evening was already dusky and the night was closing in fast. He had been struggling at work with a new advertising campaign for some dog food company product and his eyes were still seeing graphics and text floating across his vision. He was a man who would often stay too late and work too hard. Once he had a project he found himself unable to put it down until it was finished. This would have been an admirable trait if only anyone ever noticed. His work was always well received and viewed, but credit always fell further up the line than his desk.
    “Duncan,” the voice tried again.
    He turned around and still there was nobody within whispering distance of him. There were only three of them on the platform; himself, a woman dressed in evening attire behind him, and a man standing worryingly close to the edge of the platform in front.
    “Push him,” the voice insisted, “Quickly, it’s nearly too late.”
    Just then the 6:45 train pulled into the station. The PA system crackled into life, announcing the arrival and Duncan gratefully boarded the train home. He took the closest seat amidst the deserted carriage. The cloth smelt vaguely of smoke despite the countrywide ban in enclosed spaces. The carriage was empty and Duncan was happy for the silence. He was obviously working too hard and was too tired. He closed his eyes as the train pulled away and let the gentle rocking sooth his weary mind. He was almost asleep when the voice spoke up again,
    “Duncan,” it whispered.
    Duncan closed his eyes tighter and willed himself to sleep.
    “DUNCAN!” The voice barked loudly in his ear.
    His eyes snapped open and he stood, but the carriage was still empty. He looked around desperately for the origin of the voice, but there was none.
    “Who’s there?” He asked nervously, “Where are you?”
    “I’m in here,” the voice whispered, “Inside.”
    “WHO IS THAT?” Duncan shouted loudly, his voice echoing off of the empty metal shell.
    “I’m in here Duncan. In you, and if you continue shouting then someone is going to lock you up my friend.”
    Duncan sat back down heavily with only the rising dust for company . I’m just tired , he thought again, that’s all it is, just tired and I need some sleep. Everything will be right as rain tomorrow.
    “Oh I don’t think so,” the voice laughed, “I don’t think that you will be ever again.”

    When Duncan finally laid his head on the pillow some two hours later, the voice was still singing incessantly in his mind. Apparently there was an endless supply of bottles that were sitting on a wall somewhere, and for some reason they kept falling off. He thrust his head further into the pillows in a futile attempt to drown out the noise, “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” He raged to no avail.
    The night drifted by interminably slowly like a wispy marshmallow cloud on a windless summer day. Duncan was unable to sleep and by the time the dawn’s rays crept around his bedroom window curtain he was close to tears. His whole body screamed for sleep and his insides were twisted into knots of frustration and