Ebooks by Chrystian Marrero
Can you handle a stay at Danvers Asylum? Insanity is the only way out!
Welcome to Danvers State Insane Asylum, home to some of the most demented men and women in the country. Doctor Eugene Charles - head of the asylum and manager of its inner workings - has seen his share of insanity in the eyes of every patient residing behind the walls of his asylum.
But the newest addition to his facility will redefine the meaning of insanity once and for all. John Stephenson, an American writer of horror/fiction, is about to publish his latest creation and the haunting, subliminal messages that go along with them. His books are the works of a madman and the hidden verses within them will change the lives of whoever reads them . . . including yours.
Excerpt from Danvers Asylum
man with the golden mustache bent over and grabbed John by
his feet, clutching the ankles with hands of an angered
man hiding the subtle hint of fear hovering over his
thoughts for a mere instant and urged the “newbie” to
take hold of the unconscious man’s arms and lift him.
Both men grunted heavily as they lifted John Stephenson up
in the air.
heavy!” the rookie complained.
“Sure is. He
doesn’t look like it, though.”
swung from side to side like an old, ragged hammock waving
through the wind as the guards marched through the empty
hall of the grand facility. Distant screams were echoing
all around them, bouncing off the walls and creeping into
the ears of those unfortunate enough to roam the deadened
corridor leading into the facility’s West Wing; a
special part of the establishment for a special kind of
“They say dead
bodies lose a fair amount of weight after a while, but
I’ve always thought the quite the opposite. They
actually seem to put on a little bit more weight just
before they start to rot – at least three or four pounds
– and it works just as well for unconscious bodies.
It’s as if their souls become… denser; sort of
heavier, by the minute.”
As the two men
made their way through the narrow and seemingly endless
hall holding on to a battered middle-aged novelist by the
name of John Stephenson, the screams surrounding them
focused on the west. The unsettling shrieks of terror and
pain were coming from the depths of the very direction in
which they were headed. At the end of the corridor there
were two iron doors blocking their path. They were really
old, perhaps almost as old as the building itself and yet
they held the most important job within the whole
facility. Beyond these imposing iron doors lay the
unthinkable – a special place for special people.
That’s where they were taking John Stephenson – the
tremendously feared West Wing of Danvers State Insane
images of lingering death and perpetual sorrow plague the
mind of whoever disturbs the macabre domain of the
asylum’s West Wing, distinctively enveloped by the
feeling of extreme human suffering and its surreal
resemblance to some kind of emotional torture chamber. It
is the one part of the entire facility that is best left
alone. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to that section of
vibrant screams of those locked away beyond the rigid iron
doors were degraded and silenced by the monotonous and
irritating sound of a wretched rattling released by the
guards’ rusty key chain, announcing their arrival to the
tune of little metallic, golden keys rubbing against each
other through an abrasive choir of intimidation.
The prisoners of the West Wing knew all too well
the nature of that sudden visit by the guards. They only
received three visits a day and this one wasn’t a
regular. The first one usually took place about an hour
after dawn, which was followed by a second mid-day visit.
Then, right before sunset, the doors would open for a
third time and they’d receive their final meal of the
day before being locked away and left forgotten until the
early rays of light of the following day would liven the
hall with its benevolent presence.
But this time the doors were opened off schedule,
which they knew meant either someone had been chosen for a
much dreaded trip to the third floor, or a brand new
inductee was about to grace the family of the damned. The
latter seemed to make more sense to them all, and so they
waited patiently for their chance to greet the newcomer
through the bulletproof glass of their respective iron
As the uniformed duo made their way through the narrow hallway of a place that felt haunted to all who dared intrude, they discovered something odd within one of the rooms.
It was a long and
narrow hallway with small, rusty doors on both sides of
it. Ten doors to the right and ten to the left; all
separated by no more than a twelve-foot gap between them.
They were all padded isolation rooms meant to contain the
so-called “extreme” patients with great help from the
infamous straightjackets they all wore inside. The
compressed and overly private interiors of these deadened
chambers gave them a very unique feel; they seemed to be
little cubicles of grief and despair.
“What the fuck
is that?” the brown haired novice guard shouted in
“Over there; third door on the right. Is that blood?”
“Oh shit! I knew this would happen.”
Release Date: July 01, 2011
Heat Level 5+
Also Available from All Romance (Coming Soon)
About the Author
Chrystian Marrero lives alongside
his mother and two siblings in Coroza;, Puerto Rico.
is pursuing the goal of studying to practicing medicine at the
University of Puerto Rico.
With several posts on writing websites it was only a matter of time
before someone wandered across the incredible writing of
NNP Owner, Gina Kincade did exactly that only a few short months ago and since then
Chrystian has worked together with NNP to change his life forever and fulfill his life dream
of a becoming published author with the release
of his first book “Danvers Asylum!
Follow Chrystian on his Blog at http://chrystianmarrero.blogspot.com
Credit goes to: Shane Willis of RAD ACT Photography at www.radactphoto.com for the Naughty Nights Press background art and cover art.
©2011 Naughty Nights Press