Slippery Simmonds – Dortmund Hibernate
Here it is. The explosive opening to my debut novel Dortmund Hibernate, a psychological thriller.
Available to buy now on Kindle and in paperback – click here
Slippery Simmonds
Let them talk, Magnus. Let them spill. It is all just an exchanging of words between one person and another.
“You’re here to listen, right? Well open your ears, doc. You’re a doc, right? Doctor of Psychology, some bullshit like that? Yeah, fancy degree. Young doc though. Anyway, this story ain’t about you. It’s late one night. I’m sitting in my house fiddling my thumbs when these kids, right – fucking teens – are trying to boost my Jaguar parked in the driveway. My fucking driveway! What’s a man to fucking do about this? Teens, fucking scum. All they do is sniff out pussy and steal people’s cars. So I run outside to scare them off, right, flap my arms like a fucking seagull taking flight, and they shit themselves. The group, four, try to dash off into the night; two get away, but one falls. A brave young soldier tries to help his friend away from the Jaguar…which is now fucking scratched. I’m angry, doc, I admit it; got me a bit of a temper at times…so I boot the soldier in the face and yank the arm of the fallen one so hard it pops out of its socket… POP! I drag them inside by an arm each…both at the same time…and they’re too dazed to kick up a stink. I feel calm again, in my sanctuary, my realm of reality where I belong. I glance around at my fish swimming in their aquarium…my birds pecking at their seeds…my spiders wrapping flies like Christmas presents for the morning…my rats writhing over one another to nibble the cheese…my snakes uncoiling as they sense my reappearance…and my prize, my anaconda, all alone in her playpen, waiting patiently for something to do… someone to eat. I tie these two boys onto kitchen chairs and slap them awake. WAKE THE FUCK UP! I want them to see where they are…who they are fucking with. As a zoo keeper I never did care for the human race and I still don’t. You’re all so goddamn…emotional. These lads are crying, wetting their red fucking cheeks, whimpering for me to let them free. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry, mister; please let us go, please. We’ll never say a word we swear, sorry, sorry…’ Shut the fuck up. They don’t listen. I go over to my spider tubs and withdraw Horrus. I tell the boys, I tell them the next one to speak has to deal with Horrus. ‘Sorry mister, sorry, so sorry. We won’t do it again. Please, please, please…’ Fallen boy it is. I cup Horrus in my hand. I grab the boy’s brown tuft of hair from behind and place my spider pal into the boy’s nostril. I tell the boy if he exhales through his nose, I’ll spread cheese on his cock and let the rats have a feast. He listens. Horrus disappears, up the nose he goes. Itsy Bitsy spider up the water spout. Nothing happens. But then the boy’s eyes begin to water…foam erupts from his mouth…blood shoots out of his nose like a tap turned on too high…and I realise I’m on the floorboards in hysterics…I can’t stop fucking laughing… like…like…like I am now! Soldier boy is as pale as my bare arse. Fallen boy falls again, smashing his head against the table and cracking his skull. Dead. Horrus scurries out of the nostril and I put him back in the tub. He knows how to do his job. I turn to soldier boy…he’s not pleading anymore. No sorry misters, just wide eyes and a flash of anger. His teeth are clenched, fists are balled…he wants a fight. I like that. I respect this boy now. So rather than stick a spider up his nose, I figure he deserves a worthy end. I drag the kitchen chair with him still strapped against it over to the playpen. I unlock the hatch. I untie the soldier boy and I shoulder-barge him in there. It’s just the two of them…human versus beast… boy versus nature…poetic. I grab a Heineken, sit on my rocking chair and watch through the glass pane as the soldier loses all of his courage…and Annie lashes out at his throat. Let’s just say, twenty minutes later and all I can see are white legs sticking out of Annie’s mouth like toothpicks, a bulge in her throat. She circled, she broke all of his little bones through constriction and then unlocked the jaw for a good old swallowing. I enjoyed the show, clapped at the conclusion, jacked off twice. Two cops came around a week later, asking questions about the disappearance of a pair of brothers last seen on the night they tried to steal my fucking Jag…I think those other pricks that got away finally found the courage to dob me in. I invited these upstanding gentlemen into my home…did you ever read 1984 by George Orwell, doc? There’s a scene near the end where Winston faces his worst fear…rats. They place a rat in a box and the only way it can escape is by chewing through Winston’s face. Unfortunately, Winston gives up…but I didn’t give the cop an option. Well, let’s just say the rat didn’t disappoint; it gnawed through the coppers chest while he was alive, ripped up his innards and found a way out through his throat; took the Adam’s apple clean out like a fruit-bobbing contest…winner! Cop number two: I strapped him to a table, put seeds in his eyeballs and POP! No more vision, well done birds. To cut a long story short, doc, my crew killed another six kids and three cops before one blue uniform got away. And here I am, captured and caged. Locked in Dortmund Asylum telling my story to the new fucking doc. Can’t say I don’t enjoy it…but I’d prefer to have my Annie here keeping me company. Dr. Magnus Paul? Nice nametag. The last swallowed his own tongue when talking to Jasper James…or was that the nurse? We hope you do one better…hahahahahahahahahaha…nobody does. He’ll get inside your head…he’ll do to your brain what my rat did to the cop. And all you’ll have left is physical freedom…and physical freedom is severely overrated when the mind is bound to us.”
Magnus glanced at his watch, blinked twice and lifted from his chair. He left Claude Simmonds, A.K.A Slippery Simmonds the animal-obsessed murderer, cackling in the darkness alone.
Available to buy now on Kindle and in paperback – click here
About
Psychologist Dr Magnus Paul is tasked with the patients of Dortmund Asylum – nine criminally insane souls hidden from the world due to the extremity of their acts.
Magnus has six weeks to prove them sane for transfer to a maximum-security prison, or label them as incurable and recommend a death sentence under a new government act.
As Magnus delves into the darkness of the incarcerated minds, his own sanity is challenged. Secrets squeeze through the cracks of the asylum, blurring the line between reality and nightmare, urging Magnus towards a new life of crime…
The rural western town of Dortmund and its inhabitants are the backdrop to the mayhem on the hill.
It’s Silence of the Lambs meets Shutter Island in this tale of loss, fear and diminishing hope.
Available to buy now on Kindle and in paperback – click here
