A
Artsydaze
Guest
Original poster
This is a collective storytelling horror thriller, that is to say that all the characters are playable by everyone and the only rule is to make this as creepy and scary as possible.
St Margaret Institute for Perturbed Children, 1951.
Heavy rain pelted the Gothic-styled windows as a cacophony of giggles and children lullabies echoed in the pristine corridors. It was a Saturday night, the occasional doctor patrolling the various passage of the old asylum making sure that their cursed charges were behaving themselves. Today had been like all other day for them, an endless cacophony of giggles, screams and cries echoing in the halls as the staff tried various treatment on the demented children, most of them taking pleasure in their pitiful sobbing and all being disturbed when one of them would start giggling in the middle of a session. Those times were the worse, in their opinions, and were a sure thing that the little demons were possessed and needed punishment.
From faraway sounded a grandfather clock, signalling another bout of treatments. Eager to shut up the little menace some, the doctor set out for their grim work. Syringes were filled with tranquilizers, restraints were being tested and "pedagogic utensils" were being readied in preparation of what was to come. Little did they know that the children had enough, and would no longer stand such treatment from their caretakers.
They would take this institute of the mad as theirs tonight.
St Margaret Institute for Perturbed Children, 1951.
Heavy rain pelted the Gothic-styled windows as a cacophony of giggles and children lullabies echoed in the pristine corridors. It was a Saturday night, the occasional doctor patrolling the various passage of the old asylum making sure that their cursed charges were behaving themselves. Today had been like all other day for them, an endless cacophony of giggles, screams and cries echoing in the halls as the staff tried various treatment on the demented children, most of them taking pleasure in their pitiful sobbing and all being disturbed when one of them would start giggling in the middle of a session. Those times were the worse, in their opinions, and were a sure thing that the little demons were possessed and needed punishment.
From faraway sounded a grandfather clock, signalling another bout of treatments. Eager to shut up the little menace some, the doctor set out for their grim work. Syringes were filled with tranquilizers, restraints were being tested and "pedagogic utensils" were being readied in preparation of what was to come. Little did they know that the children had enough, and would no longer stand such treatment from their caretakers.
They would take this institute of the mad as theirs tonight.