Scribblings from the Asylum Walls

Scratch by zombie45

I think I have seen most modern horror films; I enjoy them but feel let down if they don’t do their job. I like the feeling of been scared you see. I can’t say I have read a horror book that as scared me. The short stories that I write are more about someone losing their mind rather than something supernatural.

I have tried to write about the supernatural but always seem to go back to someone crazy. However now that I am part of the horror club I am going to have a go at something that will scare the socks of the reader. So watch this space.

David leant forward and examined his face in the bathroom mirror: he had just shaved and needed to make sure that he had got all the bristles. Happy, he moved on to his hair; although it was cut short, he always brushed it to the side, making sure there wasn’t a strand out of place. Once happy with his hair, he moved on to his eye brows, using his trimmer tidy them up and then got to work on his teeth; first flossing, then brushing. He always carried out the same routine every morning: ten minutes on the top set, another ten on the bottom, and once he had finished he tossed the tooth brush in the waste bin. Following this, he then rinsed with mouth wash, and flossed again.

He hadn’t always been like this. Four months ago he he’d been involved in a car collision and had spent six weeks in hospital due to the injuries sustained in the crash. After another weeks bed rest at home, his body still ached, and cuts and bruises could still be seen on his face. And then one morning when he was up and moving around again, something just clicked. From that point on he’d started doing things a little differently.

David started to sort things out in the house. Everything now had a place. The summer coats hung up beside the front door while in use, whilst the winter coats were stored in the wardrobes up stairs until the winter months came along. Most of the time his daughters just kicked their shoes off when they come home from school; when David saw this he made sure his girls were spoken to, and eventually it stopped. From then on all of the shoes were neatly stored in the shoe drawers.  

David started to do all the shopping in the house, and had to put the food away in a certain order. The labels on the tins had to be facing forward in the cupboard, the meats were stored together, and every tray in the freezer was labelled with what was in them.

All his dirty clothes were washed, ironed and hung up the same day; he could never leave them in the wash basket. After each family meal David couldn’t just leave the dirty plates on the side while he let his dinner settle, they too needed to be washed, dried, and put back in the cupboards immediately.

After a couple of months , David’s routine started to get on his wife and daughters’ nerves. It was becoming too much and the atmosphere in the house was very tense. His wife hoped it would stop when David returned back to work, but it never did it.

David turned the shower off and stepped onto the floor mat, pulled on his dressing gown, and entered the bedroom. Taking off the gown, he hung it up on the peg behind the door and then laid down beside his wife who was already sleeping. After a few moments, he leaned over and switched off the lamp, closing his eyes.

It was still dark when David woke up. Normally he would wake up to his alarm at eight thirty, but this night something had disturbed his sleep. He lay there for a few minutes, listening; the only sound was the gentle breathing of his wife. Eventually, he closed his eyes and nodded back off to sleep.