A Monument To Our Sins; Claythorne Chronicles Part 1

So, Child of Madness and I (Caleb from Gentleman Killers) are writing a story that takes place with my favourite guy to write about (Burton) and a particular patient he has in Claythorne, a mental Asylum in Leeds England during the late seventies to late eighties. It is and will be rather violent and graphic, profanity will and shall be common to see throughout. If you would like to become a co-writer please send a request with the idea you have. I hope you can sit back, enjoy the painful pleasure and the squealing goodness of evil madness.

Please fan and comment! We need more readers and feedback!!


3. A Patient, A Boy, A Murderer

   Really it was maddening, having not wanted to wander the grounds as he was suggested to he had been locked in his room for a good portion of the day with nothing to do.  He wandered over to his window and looked out to the courtyard below; he watched as his fellow "patients" wandered carefully, but aimlessly about the courtyard. So desperately did he want to open the window, not like it would've mattered because his window had thick iron bars running across them. Two years, two years he had been condemned to this hell hole to which there seemed no escape. He was sixteen now and he was fourteen then. 

   "This sucks," the boy finally spoke just to hear a noise. Convicted on the charge of murdering an officer who got off scot free for raping his mother because evidence was "misplaced," there was only one problem; he had witnessed the whole thing. He had come out of his room to ask his mum something when he stopped short to find his mom screaming muffled by a policeman who was savagely defiling his mother n the most obscene way possible. Instead of fighting off the attacker, he retreated down the hall and hid in silence.

   "You were a fucking coward," he would say to himself every now and again. At least he was until he followed the officer home and beat him with his own billy club and finally slit his throat in the slowest and most beautiful way he knew how. And the only reason he got caught was because a friend of his kid brother saw him leaving the place and let it slip to the police. 

   "Ah I wonder what my kid brother is doing right now, hope he and mum are getting along okay," he whispered to himself. William Issac Taylor of Edinborough was a convicted killer, but instead of life in prison or getting the needle he was sent to this prison, this hell hole, this institution; he wondered who pulled the strings to make that happen. He had grown up since then; he was about five-ten and with a slight build to him he was able to fend for himself. His short unkept brown hair and deep blue almost purple eyes were really the only tell tale signs of his being that he held as "unique." Well, that and the fact that he looked somewhat scrawny and only if he took off his shirt was his actual muscular stature blatenly apparent. He was like his room, excuse me more of a cell. A metal framed bed with a single mattress and layering of sheets that had what looked like a faded bloodstain on it and a pillow, yellowed by the absorption of William's natural body oils over the years. A simple English-Victorian style bureau with a faded, cracked mirror and a beat up old work desk with a journal and a few pencils in a mug on it. For some reason the female doctor allowed him to have these things though he didn't know why. 

   "This journal is for you to record your thoughts and emotions," he recalled her once saying. William never trusted her though, and he especially didn't trust the other; Burton. "The Good Doctor" was his nickname, but he was anything but. No he reminded him of a pedophile who would go around at night and kidnap kids from their beds, or worse yet he was Jack the Ripper from England's past come back to life. He hated Burton with a passion, and occasionally to get back at him for the nasty things he did to him he would occasionally rearrange things in the guy's office. Like as of recently he had dome some kind of exploration in William's body while he was drugged asleep and so when Will woke up and figured it out he snuck into the doc's office and took one of his books and slipped it in his desk. He knew eventually he would notice and he would freak out which to Will was a small way of getting even, perhaps that's why He was still around because Burton loved to be messed with or maybe he saw something in him. Either way it was some reason that kept him around since most patients either get "released" or die within a year of entry into the place. 

   "Huh, I wonder how long it will take the stupid git to realize his library's been disturbed," Will thought to himself. Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching and so he sat on his bed and waited, looking as innocent as he could in case it was the doc paying him a visit.


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