Friday, October 4, 2013

Day Three


I belong to a new group called YA Storytellers, and we are going to do a lot of fun and AWESOME things!  At the end of this paragraph I will add the link so you can read the other creeeeepy posts. Today we are putting up creepy excerpts. I will just continue on with The Woodlow Mansion.
The Woodlow Mansion
The doctor explained, "Tyler remains lost in the delusion that some sort of creature living in the rearview mirror forced his car to crash. Guilt over the accident is buried deep, and he will need years of therapy just to reach it, before we can even attempt to deal with it. With all due respect to my boss, who is a business man and not a doctor, by the way, I strongly urge you to leave the boy in my care."
"So you can continue to drug him?" Shannon shook with barely contained rage. "No way."
"He needs professional help."
"He needs his family!"
Shannon lowered her voice and stepped closer to the doctor when she noticed the patients becoming agitated by her angry outburst. She held tight to her purse with both hands as if she thought someone might try to steal it. "If something comes us we can't handle, I'll call you. Good enough?"
"The sooner the better, for the boy's sake."
She moved in the direction of the door, but she walked backwards in order to keep the doctor in view. A small voice warned her not to turn her back on anyone in this place. They might decide to drug and keep her. Wanting to end the meeting on a high note, she said, "I'll send you an autographed book for your wife."
The doctor smiled for a moment. Then it was gone. She pivoted and walked as fast as her three-inch-heels would allow. Panic set in as she realized the boys were long gone. She hadn't meant to let them get that far ahead of her. Fear gripped her cold hand like an old friend. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, riddled with locked doors. She hurried.
She held her purse tighter.  For a while, the only sound she heard was her stilettoes clicking against the linoleum. The words dead man walking sprang to mind. Of course, in her case it would be dead woman walking. She would have smiled at that, if she wasn't so freaked out by her surroundings.
A man's face appeared in the small, square window of one door. She jumped sideways, startled. The knob turned. She saw a flash of a bald head and manic eyes. The door opened. She froze in terror. The man was letting himself out of the room. Weren't these the rooms that held the dangerous patients?
The man with the crazy look in his eyes stepped into the hallway, and the sight of a tan uniform brought bone-melting relief to her body. The janitor was pushing a soapy-water filled bucket around with his mop.
No longer caring what people thought, she began to run for the nearest exit. Her twisted imagination worked overtime. She half expected something to leap out, grab her, and drag her into a tiny room, something huge with teeth.
The exit loomed ahead. She could see bright sunshine through glass doors. She raced past the nurse from earlier. The woman wore an amused expression and tapped her pencil against the counter in perfect rhythm with Shannon's fleeing shoes. In the back of her mind, Shannon heard a voice. We'll wait for you to come back. They always come back. And when you do, you can stay longer.

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