Memento Mori
Rookie
4 posts
26
Seen 19th November 2020
18th November 2020, 01:14 PM
Note: not affiliated with the DC character The Riddler, think of this story and all chapters after it as it’s own entity (my own variation of the Joker you could say)
The Riddler
Segment I: Where, Why?
As ordinary a day could be at the Rockridge Mental Institution, long time patient Randy Dunston paced seemingly aimlessly through the many corridors of the large, cavernous building. Cameras littered the place in its entirety, two for each hallway and four for each room.
It was 2:35 P.M. Central Standard Time, the half dozen patients still housed at the RMI were given free reign of the building from 2-3, a welcome change of scenery from their jail-cell like accommodations.
A looming, barbed wire fence surrounded the RMI, standing 12-foot high, it truly reinforced the iron clad grip placed around the poor souls who found themselves admitted here. No had ever broke in, and no one had ever escaped, even during the heyday of operation when mental asylums dotted America as though they were fast food restaurants.
Most of the folks who found themselves here were elderly and riddled with hallucinations or memory loss from dementia, but not Randy. No, Randy had been admitted by his mother at the ripe age of 11, after coming home to her son standing over the viciously mangled corpse of the family dog, hedge clippers in hand.
Randy’s life had been that of a normal boy, he had many friends, enjoyed after-school activities with his peers, and was, by all accounts, perfectly normal. But that all changed around the time he was 9 years old. You see, Randy’s parents had separated several years prior due to his fathers mild schizophrenia which proved to be winning the battle as he aged. Even so, the court had recognized Mr. Mark Dunston as a fit parent and was allowed visitation for every other weekend.
It was Sunday, October 3rd at around 6 P.M.. Janet Dunston-Murphy pulled up to the single story home where her former partner lived. Like any other given Sunday she was there, always 6 sharp, to pick up her little boy. She walked slowly up to the door, bracing against the brisk October wind. *tap, tap, tap* She knocked gingerly and waited, no answer. *Tap, Tap, Tap* A little harder now, and waited. No answer. *BOOM, BOOM, BOOM* She had grown very impatient and worried. “Mark! It’s Jan, I’m here to pick up Randy!”, she called out, but nobody would reply.
She knew better than to enter without being let in, but a sick feeling swept over Janet. She pushed the door open and scanned the living room, to her relief she saw Randy wrapped in a blanket on the couch. “Mark, I’m here! Sorry to barge in, it’s just so cold!” She called out again, her words falling on deaf ears.
The room felt absolutely still, like the calm before a great storm. She walked closer to Randy now, his back to her, when he let out a raspy groan, almost as though it were not human. She rushed over to him and pulled back the thick, wool blanket that seemed to have a near slimy texture to it.
Janet Dunston-Murphy would never forget that horrible mess that laid before her eyes.
It was 2:35 P.M. Central Standard Time, the half dozen patients still housed at the RMI were given free reign of the building from 2-3, a welcome change of scenery from their jail-cell like accommodations.
A looming, barbed wire fence surrounded the RMI, standing 12-foot high, it truly reinforced the iron clad grip placed around the poor souls who found themselves admitted here. No had ever broke in, and no one had ever escaped, even during the heyday of operation when mental asylums dotted America as though they were fast food restaurants.
Most of the folks who found themselves here were elderly and riddled with hallucinations or memory loss from dementia, but not Randy. No, Randy had been admitted by his mother at the ripe age of 11, after coming home to her son standing over the viciously mangled corpse of the family dog, hedge clippers in hand.
Randy’s life had been that of a normal boy, he had many friends, enjoyed after-school activities with his peers, and was, by all accounts, perfectly normal. But that all changed around the time he was 9 years old. You see, Randy’s parents had separated several years prior due to his fathers mild schizophrenia which proved to be winning the battle as he aged. Even so, the court had recognized Mr. Mark Dunston as a fit parent and was allowed visitation for every other weekend.
It was Sunday, October 3rd at around 6 P.M.. Janet Dunston-Murphy pulled up to the single story home where her former partner lived. Like any other given Sunday she was there, always 6 sharp, to pick up her little boy. She walked slowly up to the door, bracing against the brisk October wind. *tap, tap, tap* She knocked gingerly and waited, no answer. *Tap, Tap, Tap* A little harder now, and waited. No answer. *BOOM, BOOM, BOOM* She had grown very impatient and worried. “Mark! It’s Jan, I’m here to pick up Randy!”, she called out, but nobody would reply.
She knew better than to enter without being let in, but a sick feeling swept over Janet. She pushed the door open and scanned the living room, to her relief she saw Randy wrapped in a blanket on the couch. “Mark, I’m here! Sorry to barge in, it’s just so cold!” She called out again, her words falling on deaf ears.
The room felt absolutely still, like the calm before a great storm. She walked closer to Randy now, his back to her, when he let out a raspy groan, almost as though it were not human. She rushed over to him and pulled back the thick, wool blanket that seemed to have a near slimy texture to it.
Janet Dunston-Murphy would never forget that horrible mess that laid before her eyes.
Let me know if you guys would be interested in a continuation of this story! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far
Drake 
”Growing is a process
Member
121 posts
341
Seen 14th January 2023
Forrester
20th February 2021, 01:04 PM
HomoSheepitus wrote on 18th November 2020, 01:14 PM:
Note: not affiliated with the DC character The Riddler, think of this story and all chapters after it as it’s own entity (my own variation of the Joker you could say)
The Riddler
Segment I: Where, Why?
As ordinary a day could be at the Rockridge Mental Institution, long time patient Randy Dunston paced seemingly aimlessly through the many corridors of the large, cavernous building. Cameras littered the place in its entirety, two for each hallway and four for each room.
It was 2:35 P.M. Central Standard Time, the half dozen patients still housed at the RMI were given free reign of the building from 2-3, a welcome change of scenery from their jail-cell like accommodations.
A looming, barbed wire fence surrounded the RMI, standing 12-foot high, it truly reinforced the iron clad grip placed around the poor souls who found themselves admitted here. No had ever broke in, and no one had ever escaped, even during the heyday of operation when mental asylums dotted America as though they were fast food restaurants.
Most of the folks who found themselves here were elderly and riddled with hallucinations or memory loss from dementia, but not Randy. No, Randy had been admitted by his mother at the ripe age of 11, after coming home to her son standing over the viciously mangled corpse of the family dog, hedge clippers in hand.
Randy’s life had been that of a normal boy, he had many friends, enjoyed after-school activities with his peers, and was, by all accounts, perfectly normal. But that all changed around the time he was 9 years old. You see, Randy’s parents had separated several years prior due to his fathers mild schizophrenia which proved to be winning the battle as he aged. Even so, the court had recognized Mr. Mark Dunston as a fit parent and was allowed visitation for every other weekend.
It was Sunday, October 3rd at around 6 P.M.. Janet Dunston-Murphy pulled up to the single story home where her former partner lived. Like any other given Sunday she was there, always 6 sharp, to pick up her little boy. She walked slowly up to the door, bracing against the brisk October wind. *tap, tap, tap* She knocked gingerly and waited, no answer. *Tap, Tap, Tap* A little harder now, and waited. No answer. *BOOM, BOOM, BOOM* She had grown very impatient and worried. “Mark! It’s Jan, I’m here to pick up Randy!”, she called out, but nobody would reply.
She knew better than to enter without being let in, but a sick feeling swept over Janet. She pushed the door open and scanned the living room, to her relief she saw Randy wrapped in a blanket on the couch. “Mark, I’m here! Sorry to barge in, it’s just so cold!” She called out again, her words falling on deaf ears.
The room felt absolutely still, like the calm before a great storm. She walked closer to Randy now, his back to her, when he let out a raspy groan, almost as though it were not human. She rushed over to him and pulled back the thick, wool blanket that seemed to have a near slimy texture to it.
Janet Dunston-Murphy would never forget that horrible mess that laid before her eyes.
Let me know if you guys would be interested in a continuation of this story! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far
The Riddler
Segment I: Where, Why?
As ordinary a day could be at the Rockridge Mental Institution, long time patient Randy Dunston paced seemingly aimlessly through the many corridors of the large, cavernous building. Cameras littered the place in its entirety, two for each hallway and four for each room.
It was 2:35 P.M. Central Standard Time, the half dozen patients still housed at the RMI were given free reign of the building from 2-3, a welcome change of scenery from their jail-cell like accommodations.
A looming, barbed wire fence surrounded the RMI, standing 12-foot high, it truly reinforced the iron clad grip placed around the poor souls who found themselves admitted here. No had ever broke in, and no one had ever escaped, even during the heyday of operation when mental asylums dotted America as though they were fast food restaurants.
Most of the folks who found themselves here were elderly and riddled with hallucinations or memory loss from dementia, but not Randy. No, Randy had been admitted by his mother at the ripe age of 11, after coming home to her son standing over the viciously mangled corpse of the family dog, hedge clippers in hand.
Randy’s life had been that of a normal boy, he had many friends, enjoyed after-school activities with his peers, and was, by all accounts, perfectly normal. But that all changed around the time he was 9 years old. You see, Randy’s parents had separated several years prior due to his fathers mild schizophrenia which proved to be winning the battle as he aged. Even so, the court had recognized Mr. Mark Dunston as a fit parent and was allowed visitation for every other weekend.
It was Sunday, October 3rd at around 6 P.M.. Janet Dunston-Murphy pulled up to the single story home where her former partner lived. Like any other given Sunday she was there, always 6 sharp, to pick up her little boy. She walked slowly up to the door, bracing against the brisk October wind. *tap, tap, tap* She knocked gingerly and waited, no answer. *Tap, Tap, Tap* A little harder now, and waited. No answer. *BOOM, BOOM, BOOM* She had grown very impatient and worried. “Mark! It’s Jan, I’m here to pick up Randy!”, she called out, but nobody would reply.
She knew better than to enter without being let in, but a sick feeling swept over Janet. She pushed the door open and scanned the living room, to her relief she saw Randy wrapped in a blanket on the couch. “Mark, I’m here! Sorry to barge in, it’s just so cold!” She called out again, her words falling on deaf ears.
The room felt absolutely still, like the calm before a great storm. She walked closer to Randy now, his back to her, when he let out a raspy groan, almost as though it were not human. She rushed over to him and pulled back the thick, wool blanket that seemed to have a near slimy texture to it.
Janet Dunston-Murphy would never forget that horrible mess that laid before her eyes.
Let me know if you guys would be interested in a continuation of this story! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far
Good post Sheep, well structured and very interesting.
Good job!
