Select Page

Insanity by Cameron Jace

Chapter 5

Copyright©by Cameron Jace

December 27 2018


A black limousine halted abruptly before the Radcliffe Asylum's entrance. The recklessness of its driver alerted security at the main gate. They held their guns and squinted against the framed windows of the unusually long limo. A series of uninterrupted laughter crackled from the inside, while the Beatles were playing somewhere in the back. The passengers sang “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” except that in their version, it was “Alice.”

A chauffeur got out and hurried to open the door for his partying passengers in the back. He was so devoted to his job that he hadn't even noticed the security guards with their guns aimed at the limousine. The chauffeur was short. He wore a tuxedo that was too long as if he'd borrowed it. His face was funny in the strangest ways. It was full of freckles, scattered around a small and pointy nose. A chortle almost escaped one of the security guards upon noticing the chauffeur's thin mustache. It looked more like a rat's whiskers.

The chauffeur cleared his throat, adjusted his necktie, and bent over as he opened the passenger door. Many girls were laughing from inside.

A huge amount of smoke blew into the faces of the guards upon opening the door. It was as if someone had trapped a cloud inside the limo and now it was floating out onto them, like a blob from one of the old scary movies. It was gray, thick, and smelled funny. The guards got a little dizzy.

“Suspicious activity at the main gate,” one of the guards radioed. “Probably tear gas by an intruder. Need backup.”

The rest of the guards stood paralyzed inside the big circle of gasses and waited until it began clearing away. The girls never stopped laughing and cheering for a moment. A few of the guards began coughing, though. The first thing the guards saw when the gasses subsided was a girl's leg stepping out of the limousine. It was a slender leg with a tattoo of a caterpillar on it. For guards who'd been handling insane people all their lives, drooling was the least they could do.

Girl after girl got out of the limousine. They wore the tightest outfits, the longest boots, and the shortest skirts. They were either coughing or giggling. Some of them did both. Most of them were so happy that the guards in the back couldn't help but giggle back. Some of the girls smoked rolled cigars, smiling with kaleidoscope eyes.

It was like a prelude to madness, where the highly respected gangster was about to show up last.

Finally, a short leg showed from the car, followed by the egg-shaped head of a man with a pipe tucked between his full lips. The man's fedora slipped over his eyes as he got out with a hookah in his hand. When he coughed, he vanished like a magician behind spirals of thick smoke. When the smoke cleared, the guards saw he wore a tuxedo with light cream horizontal stripes. His hands were covered in white gloves. His fedora had two spikes that were shaped like mushrooms. Although a bit funny looking from afar, the man had an eerie presence that filled the heart with worry and anxiety. The guards straightened up and aimed at him. They knew the man. It was Pillar the Killer.

Nudging his hat up, the Pillar looked at them with beady eyes. He looked easily content with himself, tremendously annoyed by the presence of others.

“T-turn around. Hands on y-y-your h-head!” one of the guards demanded, his anxiety showing in his scattered syllables.

The Pillar, with a hookah in one hand and a pipe in his mouth, looked puzzled. It seemed as if he didn't know what to do with them while surrendering to the asylum's guards. It looked as if someone had awakened him from a drowsy tangerine dream.

“I said turn around. Hands on your head, Professor Pillar,” the guard repeated. “You're a fugitive of the Radcliffe Asylum. If you don't comply, I will shoot.” It didn't look like the guard was going to shoot. He was bluffing and scared of the Pillar.

“I was out shopping,” the Pillar said. “Needed a purge valve for my hooka-a-a-ah.” Smoke spiraled from his mouth, hitting the guard in the face. The guard sank to his knees from the power of the smoke, and Pillar lowered his head, squinting behind the smoke. “May I ask: whoo are yooh?”

500k+ readers can't be wrong!

Where Should I Send You the Book?

Ener your email address to get your free books delivered to your inbox. You'll also be added to my Reader's Group and you'll be the first to know the next time I have some cool stuff to give away (you can unsubscribe anytime).

You have Successfully Subscribed!