The Galley
He looked at Bryce.
Bryce was staring ahead, taking into proportion the monstrosity of concrete and metal in front of him.
A large sign that stood beside them read: Morningside Mental Hospital.
A day earlier, this had seemed like great fun, Bryce thought.
Steven had dared him to go to the dilapidated, old mental hospital right at the edge of town.
It had been deserted since the ’90s and was widely regarded to be haunted by the psychos who had once lived there.
It was the scariest place in town. Bryce could see why people said that now.
At least Steven had agreed to go with him.
Steven suddenly spoke, crashing Bryce’s train of thought.
Right, he said in a whisper, failing not to sound scared.
They followed the cracked footpath, trying not to step in the tall weeds growing through the cracks.
The front door creaked and groaned as Bryce pushed it open.
A dark, office-like room stood in front of them.
The room was small, around five metres long and wide, with two chairs sitting and rusting alone in the corner.
A large wooden desk stood beside a huge steel door.
A small sign hung on the door.
It read, The Galley. The Galley was infamous around town and even the country.
The galley itself was a long hallway with a row of cells on each side.
The Galley was two stories tall and had another level of cells that were reserved for the maniacs who were kept under maximum security.
When the place was still running, it was known to be worse than jail.
With five-10 people being put in a single cell due to the hospital being overpopulated.
It was said that the psychos would scream nonstop for hours on end.
The boys looked at each other.
Steven pushed the door open.
It creaked and groaned, its hinges crying out with pain.
The galley was pitch black, other than flashes of light from widening holes in the roof.
It was completely silent except for a single raindrop falling into an enlarging puddle on the floor.
It looked like somewhere you were not going to come out of.
Bryce likened the galley to a monster.
The dark expanse in front of them was its mouth, and it was beckoning them to come in.
Steven edged forward, followed by Bryce, and they walked in, letting the Galley swallow them whole. The boys walked slowly, forcing themselves to put one foot in front of the other.
Bang! Both boys instantly spun around.
Nothing was there.
Bryce shuddered as nothing but darkness lay in front of him.
The boys suddenly heard a small recurring sound, making its way through the galley.
Clomp, Clomp. The noise was so quiet the boys strained to hear it, but it slowly got louder and louder, making its way towards them.
It was the undeniable sounds of footsteps.
Steven spun on the balls of his feet and ran in the opposite direction.
Bryce sprinted after him, both boys yelling and screaming at each other, freaking out as the footsteps grew louder.
The monster was starting to show its teeth as shadows leapt across the darkness, and a long, low, loud laugh bounced off the walls, echoing through the vast chambers of the Galley.
The boys soon reached a dead end.
A wall stretched high minimised their chances of escape to zero.
Steven searched around.
The galley was teeming with laughing, crashing and the now freakishly loud sound of footsteps.
Their only chance was to hide in one of the cells.
Steven dragged the door open with all his might and rushed in.
Bryce! he screamed.
Bryce was frozen.
His legs were trees planted firmly into the ground, not moving an inch.
His brain was working hard, wondering what was happening, and his eyes were fixed on the darkness before him.
With the noises almost deafeningly loud now, Steven screamed again.
Bryce! Bryce tried to speak, but the words would not come out.
Steven frantically grabbed Bryce by his collar and dragged him into the cell, slamming the door shut.
Everything went silent.
Both boys stood perfectly still, not daring to move at all.
A bolt slid through the door.
Steven let out a blood-curdling scream, breaking the deathly silence.
Bryce grabbed Steven and clamped a hand around his mouth.
Steven had lost the plot.
Bryce was shaking with fear, clutching Steven with all his might as if he might lose him if he did not.
Steven suddenly fell silent.
Bryce felt warm air on the back of his neck as a set of hands clamped around his neck.
Steven screamed again, and in shock, Bryce lost his hold on him.
Steven’s face planted on to the floor.
Run!
Bryce gurgled, losing precious air by the second.
Steven sprung up, shoulder charging his way through the door and sprinted away, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Bryce was happy that if he did not make it out, at least Steven had.
Everything went black.
Bryce woke with a startle.
He had hoped he would open his eyes and find himself tucked in his bed.
Instead, he lay on a hard wooden floor.
He gazed up to find his bearings.
He was in a homely-looking room.
It was warm and felt cosy.
He noticed a wood-burning fire in the corner, crackling away.
The walls had no windows and were completely blank.
Right in the middle of the room sat a huge red leather armchair facing the other wall.
So, I see you are awake.
Bryce tried to scream, but his lungs were so dry he could not.
The chair spun around, showing a tall, elderly man.
He was easily over six foot and a-half, and the huge chair did not seem so large when he sat in it.
He was bald, with beady eyes and thick black eyebrows that looked like someone had badly drawn them on with a marker.
He wore a beige suit with a red and white striped tie.
He had a certain aroma about him that was unlike anything Bryce had smelt before.
Sit Down! he ordered.
Bryce sat down.
The man’s voice was authoritarian; he spoke, and you listened.
Bryce sat cross-legged on the floor, his brain working at lightning speed, trying to determine what was happening.
The old man suddenly spoke: "Well, I suppose I better tell you why you’re here."
Bryce nodded, not knowing what else to do.
The old man spluttered and started his story.
"I lived in Morningside Mental Hospital for 29 years; my cell was 12 on the galley.
"1997 we were told we would be moved to the Stratford Mental Hospital.
"It’s very hard to move people like us, so they decided to sedate us, but I managed to escape."
The old man spluttered again and then regained his story.
"I then found this house and have lived here ever since.
"I love this place far more than the mental hospital, but I have always had a hunger that I have not been able to feed."
He slowly rose out of his chair.
"That’s why you’re here."
He started approaching Bryce, showing off jagged yellow teeth as he started smiling wickedly. Bryce stuttered, "Wha-wha-what are you going to do to me?"
As he clamped a hand on Bryce’s shoulder, the man whispered in Bryce’s ear, "I am going to eat you."
Red Shoes
Jessie hadn’t realised how late it was and had immediately set off, trying to dodge people and puddles as she sprinted along the road.
She was too busy worrying about what her mother might say to think about how dangerous it was to be out at night.
Splash! Jessie wiped the combination of dirty puddle water and sweat from her face as she ran through the puddle-streaked road.
The 10th loud DONG! ricocheted through her brain, reminding her just how late she was going to be home.
Jessie had only been going for five minutes when she started to slow down.
It had been a long day running between houses doing errands for her mother.
Jessie stopped where she was and leaned over to catch her breath.
She could see her own tired puffs of air float into the cold night, and looking around her, Jessie realised she was still about a 20-minute walk from home.
It was an eerie, silent night; Jessie could only hear the slow drop, drop, drop of water dripping from a flimsy plastic gutter.
There was an occasional squawk of crows guarding the highest branches of the trees. Jessie shivered as another cold breeze washed over her.
She felt goose bumps appear on her bare arms and heard a rustle from above as a flock of crows fled desperately from their branches.
Jessie’s hair stood on the back of her neck; this night was more sinister.
Something inside Jessie was almost warning her, a feeling that someone or something was watching her.
Jessie turned slowly, her heart pumping.
She listened hard as she squinted into the shadows.
Jessie peered past a great tree trunk and could have sworn she saw something move.
There was a sudden rustle from behind a bush, and then, through the leaves, Jessie saw a pair of eyes.
A pair of white crazed eyes gazed out from the bush.
They stared, not blinking, into Jessie’s own.
Red veins slithered into the centre, surrounding tiny black pupils like snakes surrounding their prey.
Jessie continued to stare, trapped in the constant, fierce gaze of the eyes.
The square was silent.
Jessie stood all alone in the middle of the road; she was staring intently into the bushes, her eyes wide, fixated on one bush in particular.
Someone looking on would have no idea what danger might be close, so close it was inside the girl, filling her veins.
Transforming her.
Jessie’s face was paling quickly; it was like all her blood was gushing out of her, leaving Jessie’s skin a stark white.
Her face began to twitch, starting with her eyelids and then her head, until Jessie's whole body was contorting.
She toppled to the ground; violent jerks, kicks and swings of her manic limbs left Jessie bruised and scratched.
The fit went on for seconds, then minutes, until it felt like a lifetime when Jessie finally took control of her body, but it was not for long.
Jessie lay gasping for breath; her whole body shook, and she struggled to think straight.
It felt like someone was taking over her mind, putting in thoughts that weren’t hers and simply erasing others.
If someone was watching, they would see that it was not just her mind that was changing.
Jessie’s eyes were darkening.
Her bright blue irises were turning midnight blue and then a deep purple, getting darker and darker until Jessie’s eyes were jet black.
They were so black.
They blocked out any of Jessie, who was still fighting to survive behind them The clock chimes into the early morning light, DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! 4 o’clock.
The sun is just beginning to rise, leaving the shadows of the night to linger on.
Slow, heavy footsteps can be heard as a young girl trudges out from behind a large tree trunk.
Her body is covered in scratches, and her long, messy hair hides her face.
The girl has what must have been a nice dress on, but it has been splashed with dirty water and mud that covers most of the pretty flower pattern.
The girl stumbles, and her hair flies from her face, revealing pale skin.
Her eyes are white, and her tiny black pupils are glassed over, leaving one final expression on her face: pure terror.
The girl is nearing a small group of trees at the edge of the square.
She uses all her strength to put one foot in front of the other.
She takes her last exhausted step and collapses into the shadows; a final glimpse of shiny red shoes and she is gone.
Moody winter
She mixed warm and cool colours for a moody winter effect.
