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!!


8. Impatience; A Bad Reaction

Winter was rummaging through her desk attempting to find her favourite pen which wasn’t exactly a pen but a calligraphy quill and was given to her by Burton as a show of his appreciation at one point. Upon her rummaging she heard frightened knocking on the heavy wooden door to her office and the following of William’s voice, almost frenzied but trying to retain their regular coolness. Fumbling to close her desk quickly and straightening her dress as she stood from her swiveling office chair that was mostly metal besides the seat cushions she clopped over to the door. Opening it, she put on a faint smile and gestured for the young boy to come in with the phrase, “William, young man, I can never deny a visit from you, come in. What seems to be ailing you?”

William rushed in, feeling the tingle of adrenaline running through his blood stream as the footsteps went by but then realized that Burton’s were typically heavier and more skulking. With a mental sigh of relief and a brief moment of pondering he looked at Winter with a cool and calm gaze. Then letting his body become less tense he responded to the young woman, “I was just coming by to see how you were doing. And wondering how you liked my little endeavour so far?”

Winter’s heart leapt at the suggestion of the notebook and began to flush a little remembering the Burton had confiscated it, but she couldn’t let William know about that. So she looked at him coolly as well and said, “I’m doing rather well Mr. Taylor. Yourself?”

William knew something was off, not just because of her earlier conversation with the madman just outside of his room, but he was never addressed as “Mr. Taylor” by her, but he responded as if he knew nothing, “I’m doing alright Dr. Greene… A little on edge since I heard shouting coming from Markus’ room and knowing what he’s in here for. Honestly I was a little worried for your sake and came to see if you were okay.”

Warmth spread through her body, her icy veins became rivers of hot springs with his concern, and she detected nothing ingenuine about it. Though nothing changed about her cold expressionlessness as she too responded, “That’s rather sweet of you William, however I must ask you to leave unfortunately, I have a report due by noon, I haven’t started and I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

William nodded in respectful compliance and turned towards the door slowly, completely knowing what was going on. Despite the fact the between the two doctors he would rather see Winter than Burton, she was at the moment acting as a pretentious bitch which he did not appreciate at all. Ignoring his brief internal conflict he walked a few steps, grasped the handle of the door and turned the knob. Before he opened the door he spoke once more, deciding to break the conscious hold around his tongue, “You know Dr. Greene… I trust you with so much of what I have going on in compare to all others by choice. But I know something is wrong with you right now and you won’t confide back to me, perhaps that Markus is troubling you, or that Burton took my journal and intends to give it back later? I’m fine with that, just remember this if I seem a little ticked later.”

And with that he slammed the door as Winter reacted a little sacredly at his sudden outburst and only uttered a few words, “But… William- How…. How?”

William was storming off to the cafetorium ready to wolf down a mouthful of food and then return to his room to furiously scribble words on paper. Not even pausing for a moment as her rushed by 244 A to listen to the muffled screeches of a miserable child.

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