Untitled

As yet untitled, obviously unfinished but hopefully will turn into something

PROLOGUE
Present Day

There it stood: Dark, foreboding even strangely threatening in parts. The row of young oaks that I had helped plant years before were now hardened, fully fledged trees, whose gnarled limbs made a slight tapping on the nearby window. The window itself, now dirty and broken, had once been a view to freedom, a glimpse to the outside world. We would stare out of that tiny pane of glass and make promises of hope, of dreams and of the future. Promises that we knew would never come true but it was always nice to have something to cling to. The paint around the windows once a bright iridescent blue was now chipped and peeling, the escape marks still remained where several residents had decided they’d had enough and tried tirelessly to jemmy open the way to freedom using any object possible. Autographs were still there, scratched into the wood by an unsuspecting newcomer who sat down one night with a coin and wrote “Charley waz ‘ere”. It would not be long before Charley wished he wasn’t.
 The front door: solid, white and to a young boy absolutely huge, had, to many, been our first point of contact to this establishment. Its solid brass knocker, always a heavy thing to lift, produced a thunderous sound as it hammered home at the drop. It marked a new beginning as we were hurriedly ushered through the opening barely being given the chance to say goodbye to the life we knew.
 A long curved driveway snaked its way around the foreground. Paved now, it had once been a conglomerate of soggy gravelly muck where, when selected at random, you would make the half mile trek down to disentangle the chains from the iron gates. Looking upward you could see the gothic lettering spelling out the name “Moses Retardation Facility” and for a split second you thought you could make it if you ran. You also knew that you were being watched and that even from this distance these guys were a very good shot with a dart!
 I look down at my trembling hands as I down the remainder of my bottle. What the Hell am I doing????

 

 
 
 

 
 CHAPTER 1

 1980

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
 My piercing scream rang out through the open doorway, filling up the empty room. My fingers clung to the door frame, to the window frame, to anything that would prevent me from crossing that threshold. I could feel the strength of three burly men as they tried to release my grasp.
 “Get off me you fuckers” I kicked out catching one of the men in the chest. This only resulted in the other two wrapping themselves around me and yanking me from the railing. Marching me inside I could hear the distant sobbing of my mother as this all became too much for her and she broke down in tears.
 Thrown into a nearby chair I gazed upwards into the face of someone I would get to know very well indeed. She was a big, muscular woman with forearms the size of tree trunks and a loud, raucous voice to match. Her greying hair was forever tied in a bun with a variety of coloured ribbon tied three times to keep it secure. An unsightly mole, together with the hairs growing out of it, was a prominent feature to her left cheek. On her right hip dangled a thick set of keys which gained her access to this place and around her neck she wore a whistle with which she ruled. From this day forward she was to be known as “The Witch of the Whistle”
 “You are Gregory Robert Campbell are you not?” the question came barking at me.
 I stared squarely back at her.
 A quick flickering of the eyes is all it took. I was very smartly clouted over the head by one of her goons standing behind me. Damn it, I had forgotten he was there.
 “Answer the question, boy” the demand came again. “You are Gregory Robert Campbell?”
 “Yes” I replied, expressionless.
 “You have been sent here because society has deemed you unfit for human habitation. You are considered wild, unruly and you lack mental stability.
 I shrugged. It was a matter of opinion.
 Her voice droned on: “Born 1969, you were an awkward and unruly child. Disinterested in education you have been disruptive and abusive in school causing damage to property. Several attempts have been made to control these outbursts but they have been fruitless”
 “And so, Mr Campbell, you have been sent to us”
 I said nothing.
 “We make the rules here, Mr Campbell, and whilst you are at this establishment we shall expect those rules to be followed to the letter. You shall move when you are told to move, speak when you are told to speak and do what you are told to do. There may be times when you feel your treatment is unjust but it is a tried and proven method. A method that has seen “Moses” be successful over the last eighty years.”