I am so excited to announce that today is the day my new book, The Asylum Tour, is released.
Recently, I’ve become more and more frustrated by the female characters in the books I read – so many of them are so wet and so reliant on the male characters in the book to bail them out of everything, and I end up wanting to shake them.
The more it irritated me, the more I kept thinking of that old saying “write the book you would want to read”. And so that’s what I did. The Asylum tour centres around three strong female leads who you (hopefully) won’t want to shake.
The Blurb from The Asylum Tour
Sometimes, the past really does come back to haunt you.
When reporter Jeannie Jones learns that a billionaire businessman with a dark past plans on opening an abandoned asylum to the public, alarm bells ring.
What do the invited guests of the first Asylum Tour have in common except for the uncanny resemblance they bear to victims of the infamous serial killer who was held at the asylum?
Is it really just a harmless haunted house tour, or is it something altogether more sinister?
Jeannie must answer these questions and more – before it’s too late.
Check out the book trailer: https://youtu.be/tbYzZ1dbD7I
The Asylum Tour – Sneak Preview
Prologue
The Riley Asylum, November 1st 1953
The first thing Sergeant Gormley noticed as he pushed the door open as wide as it would go was the blood. Blood everywhere. On the walls, staining the beds, pooling on the floor.
He could see footprints smeared in the blood where people had tried to run away. He had known it was going to be bad by the coppery smell that had greeted him half way along the corridor, but he hadn’t imagined this. No one could have imagined this.
None of the would be escapees had gotten very far. The room was strewn with bodies. Some had been hacked almost into pieces. A stray arm laid on top of a bed, it’s body on the floor beside it. On another bed lay a leg, unattached to anyone, the stump angry red. The body it belonged to was nowhere in sight.
Everywhere Sergeant Gormley looked there were lumps of flesh. Some were identifiable, others were just chunks of red that stood out against the pasty grey decor. Skin, finger nails and a grey, soft looking substance which he recognised as brain matter were scattered through the mess.
The smell in the room made him want to retch. The cloying scent of coppery blood mixed with the thicker smell of the dead bodies’ last emissions caught in his throat making him feel like he could taste it.
He shook his head sadly.
Something has gone horribly wrong here, he thought, and it’s just my luck that I was the one on duty when the call came in.
The call had been from the matron of the hospital, explaining that security had been breached and the patients were rioting. Sergeant Gormley had expected a couple of people needing stitches, but mostly, he had envisioned them just needing calming down and possibly sedating. He suspected that the matron had called him rather than risk getting her own hands dirty.
But this? This was something else entirely. It was a blood bath, and whoever was behind it was, he thought to himself, was evil to the core.
He turned as he heard footsteps approaching behind him.
“Oh my God,” said Officer Hemley. He stopped dead in the doorway crossing himself. “It’s…it’s a massacre.”
Sergeant Gormley nodded his head. He’d survived the war and he’d never seen carnage like this before.
“That it is son,” he said. “That it is.”
He knew he should start making his way around the bodies looking for some clue as to what had happened here, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
“Oh my God Sarge,” Officer Hemley said again, stepping fully into the room this time.
“I know. It’s bad. But we have to…”
Officer Hemley cut him off. “No, Sarge, look. We’ve got a live one.”
Sergeant Gormley looked where Officer Hemley was pointing. Sure enough, a woman sat there in the corner, obscured by shadows. Her knees were pulled up to her chin and her arms were locked firmly around them. She stared vacantly ahead of herself, rocking back and forth. Silent tears fell from her chin and mixed with the blood that covered and surrounded her.
Chapter One
Sarah, Saturday September 2nd 2017
“Ok,” I say into the telephone, frantically scribbling away, trying to catch all of the important details but knowing I’ve missed a lot of what the woman is telling me.
I nod my head as I listen and scribble my notes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my boyfriend, Josh, where he is sitting beside me on the couch.
He smiles in amusement at me nodding along to someone who can’t see me.
I can feel my ash blonde curls bouncing as I nod and I know I must look like an excitable poodle. I try to stop nodding, but I’m soon at it again.
One strand of hair falls away from the rest and comes to sit across my left eye. I reach up absently and brush it aside, making a mental note that I need a haircut and soon.
If any of this that I’m hearing on the phone turns out to be true, it will give me the perfect excuse to get my hair done I think with a grin.
I can feel Josh’s amusement as I wrestle with my mane and keep bobbing my head and making “uh huh” noises. I glance at him and stick my tongue out. He laughs and shakes his head.
Josh mutes the TV, interested to know who is on the phone now. My look of confusion mixed with excitement is probably making him itch to know what’s being said.
When the phone rang, I told him it would be a sales call and answered it in irritation, mostly to stop the bleating ring. I mean who calls someone on their house phone rather than their mobile?
I know Josh had been waiting for me to roll my eyes and slam the phone down. Now, he thinks it is something more than that. Something that could be good or could be bad. He’s not sure which and I must admit that I’m quite enjoying making him wait.
I try to make sure my tone of voice and expression give nothing away.
“Thank you,” I say, when the voice on the other end of the phone stops talking.
I smile as I hang up. As much as I want to keep Josh hanging on, I’m more interested to hear his opinion on the frankly strange phone call.
“Who was that?” Josh asks.
I shrug.
“I’m not really sure,” I answer honestly. “Someone called Gina Holloway. She said I’ve won a trip for two on the first ever Asylum Tour. I didn’t catch some of the details, but she’s going to send me out an information pack.”
“Why aren’t you jumping for joy?” Josh asks, grinning to himself.
I know why he’s grinning like that. He’s remembering my excitement the first time I ever won anything. Yes, it was only £2 on a scratch card, but it was still a win right?
“I don’t know really,” I admit.
I should be ecstatic, but something about the whole thing just feels, well, off somehow. I can’t put my finger on it, but something doesn’t quite add up.
I shrug again, frowning slightly. “It feels like some sort of a scam. I haven’t even entered a competition for any sort of tour. And why would they have our home phone number? I never give that out.”
“You mean you’ve entered so many competitions that you don’t remember that one specifically,” Josh teases me. “You spend half of your life glued to your laptop on comping sites. And obviously you have given them the house phone number. How else would they have it?”
I hit him playfully with a cushion, zeroing in on the part about spending so much of my life on comping sites and momentarily ignoring the rest.
“It’s only an hour or two a day,” I reason.
Josh raises an eyebrow and laughs. I can’t stop myself from joining in. It’s a lie and we both know it. I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to comping sites, but I certainly wouldn’t say I’m not.
“Ok,” I concede. “You win. I probably did enter and forgot. But what the hell is an asylum tour?”
“Screwed if I know,” Josh replies. “Google it.”
I reach over to the arm of the couch beside me and grab my phone. My thumbs dance over the screen and a big grin spreads across my face as I find what I’m looking for.
“The Asylum Tour is an interactive walk through tour of the heavily haunted Riley Asylum. Prepare to be scared,” I read aloud from the website, the glee I feel obvious in my voice.
It’s like my dream prize.
My eyes skim down over the text drinking in the details.
“Oh wow. It says here there was some sort of massacre and the place has been haunted ever since,” I add with a twinkle in my eye. “That place is going to be so haunted it’ll make that house from the Amityville Horror look like a playground for children.”
Josh laughs, infected by my excitement.
“Oh my God. I hope this is for real,” I say.
I don’t care anymore how Gina got my house phone number. I don’t care about anything except being able to go to this place.
Josh grins at me. “It sounds right up your street,” he says.
“It is,” I agree.
I go quiet as I continue to browse through the site pouring over the gruesome details. I’m sure it’s exaggerated to make the experience sound spookier, but I find that I don’t care as long as the experience scares me.
I can’t stop grinning as I look at the pictures of spooky looking empty corridors with shadows from unseen creatures dancing across them.
I feel my eyes widen in horrified excitement as I spot the pictures of the large, multi-person wards. The stained sheets hang in tatters from the iron framed beds. A man in white stands in the centre, his white doctor’s coat torn at the shoulder and a big hyper dermic syringe in his hand dripping liquid to the floor. Bloody handprints adorn the walls and another shadow dances on the wall behind the doctor.
“How do you not remember entering this competition?” Josh muses as he watches me looking at my phone in delight,
I shrug, distracted, not really listening to him.
“I have no idea,” I say.
I tear my eyes away from my screen long enough to really consider his words. I would remember entering this because I’d have ended up on this site at the time and I would have been this excited.
I’d have spent all day every day watching my mobile, praying for it to ring, or waiting for the email to land in my inbox. Because I know that I would never have given them the house phone number. I’d have been too scared I missed their call and lost out.
I am so excited about it all that I push my thoughts away. I have to try and not let myself get too excited about it. What can it be but a scam? But I just can’t do it. I give in and allow myself to cling to the hope that they found my details somehow and called me. It’s a scant hope, but it’s mine and I’m clinging to it.
“It opens on Halloween night,” I tell Josh. “It’s by invitation only so that must be the night for the winners.”
Why me? I wonder, as I read more details about the invite only opening night.
It is described as an exclusive event, to be experienced by a selection of guests who are to be the first people to experience the terror of the haunted asylum.
How do the operators of the tour know that this is my dream experience? And why do they care? I think.
Seriously, who is running this thing and how do they know of a nobody like me? I wonder. It’s not like I’m a z list celebrity or something and they want my name associated with it.
I bite my lower lip as doubts course through my mind.
I glance up at Josh, wondering if he shares my doubt but he’s already gone back to watching the TV.
I debate sharing my doubts with him, but I already know what his reaction will be.
He’ll tell me not to go if I’m worried about it. To just throw the information pack away if it ever materialises. I know I won’t do that, so there’s no point in us having an argument about it.
Although a small part of me is a little bit worried, the truth is, I am more intrigued.
And there’s one thing I know for sure. Whoever is behind the tour, and however they know who I am, I am going on that tour.
Chapter Two
Jeannie, Wednesday October 18th 2017
I sit at my desk clacking my pen against my two front teeth. It’s a terrible habit, one I developed in school, but I just can’t shake it and I figure there’s worse habits to have. Like drinking, smoking and swearing like a sailor, all of which I also do.
The article I’m writing is driving me mad. I’m supposed to be an investigative journalist and writing about the latest book releases is so not my thing. It’s what you could call a slow news day.
I guess I should be happy that no one has been mugged, raped or murdered, but honestly, I’m not sure I am. I just can’t muster up the energy to write this stupid article, and my disinterest in it shows.
The hub bub of noise around me should be distracting me but it isn’t. I can tune it out easily enough when I’m gripped by an interesting story, but right now, I’m tuning in, just to try and hear something a bit more interesting than the plot of the latest chick lit release.
I mean who reads this stuff? Certainly not me. I like my books like I like my articles – full of blood and gore. An angle to get my teeth into I guess you could say.
A shrink would certainly have an opinion on what sort of person that makes me, but he’d be wrong. I’m not a psychopath, or a sociopath, or any kind of path. I just enjoy the thrill that comes from chasing down a story and the sense of pride I take when I get a big scoop.
If that makes me a bad person, what can I say? Sue me. No actually, don’t do that. I’m a journalist, not a fucking rock star and I need every penny I can get my hands on.
“Hey Jeannie, Mike wants to see you in his office,” one of the junior reporters tells me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes Even a telling off will be more interesting than this mindless drivel. Not that I’ve done anything to warrant a telling off mind you. Even Mike, the editor in chief of The Daily Chronicle, knows this article he’s got me working on is bullshit.
If I am in trouble for something, I’d call writing this dumb article punishment enough.
“I’ve got something for you,” Mike says as I enter his office.
He points at the black leather and chrome seat before his desk. He lounges in his rather over the top computer chair. His whole office screams luxury but it’s mostly buried beneath piles of notes, old issues of the paper and who knows what else.
I discreetly move a stack of notebooks and sit down.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Has someone wrote another book about some airhead who gives up everything to get her man?”
“Not exactly,” Mike says, the suggestion of a smirk on his otherwise expressionless face.
I feel the first tingle of excitement run through me. I don’t know what tips me off, maybe it’s the smirk, maybe it’s the fact he let my sarcasm go without so much as a sigh and an eye roll, or maybe it’s just a gut feeling, but something tells me whatever he has for me is big. Really big.
“Have you heard of the Asylum Tour?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“It’s a new attraction. Opening on Halloween night. Apparently, it’s in an old asylum that’s rumoured to be pretty haunted,” he goes on.
I try and fail to hide my disappointment.
“Don’t write it off just yet,” he says. “There’s more.”
“The building has stood empty for years. Some billionaire bought it with the intention of remaking it all and living in there. But he said it had a bad feeling to it, and he decided to turn it into a haunted attraction instead.”
“Publicity stunt,” I say, my interest getting further and further away by the second.
“That was my first thought, but something made me look a bit deeper into it. One of the juniors was looking into doing a piece on it as a new attraction, but there’s something off about the whole thing Jeannie. There’s something extremely fishy about the guy, and well, even I have to wonder if some of the stories about the old Riley place are true.”
“It’s in the Riley Asylum?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. You know it?”
“Yeah. And I want nothing to do with it,” I say.
He frowns a little but he ignores my comment.
“Anyway, this guy has set up a website, all the usual theatrics, but he is advertising opening night as by invite only. I had one of the junior reporters look into the guest list a bit, see if there would be anyone going worth interviewing. But it’s not celebrities. Not even influencers. It’s just people he seems to have picked at random. But they all have one thing in common.”
He pauses for effect.
“And what’s that?” I ask, not really interested.
“They all match the physical appearance of every victim of Mary Garbutt. She’s…”
I cut him off.
“I know who she is,” I say.
“You do?”
“Yes. She’s the fucker who killed my grandmother when my father was only two years old.”
Mike’s jaw drops open.
“She was one of the victims?” he says, incredulous.
“She was murdered the night of the rampage,” I say.
“Wow,” he breathes.
Not how I would have put it, but I get where he’s coming from.
“So now you know why I want no part in this. It’s just a tacky publicity stunt that is using the likes of my grandmother to make someone rich a bit richer,” I say as I go to stand up.
“Wait,” Mike says. “You know this could be big. I could see it in your eyes Jeannie. Just look into it and see what you think. You can do a write up on the history of the place and then you can do whatever you want with it. If you still think there’s no story after you’ve asked a few questions, you can write a piece condemning the whole thing as making money from other people’s suffering.”
That gets my attention. The only thing I like more than a twisted case that the police are screwing up is the chance to take someone like this billionaire down a peg or two.
“Really?” I say.
“Really,” he agrees. “And hey, it’s got to be better than what you’re working on now right?”
He’s got me there I think as I stand up.
He hands me a piece of paper with a list of names and addresses on it.
I give him a questioning look.
“The people who will be invited on the first tour,” he says.
I go to ask where he got the list, but I decide I don’t want to know. I leave his office.
I go back to my desk, my brain firing a thousand questions.
The massacre that occurred in the Riley Asylum the night my grandmother died is still talked about locally now. For all I am not in the least bit squeamish generally, there’s something about that night that gives me the creeps. There are so many unanswered questions, and to be honest, I’ve always thought they should stay that way.
But now I guess I’ll have to do some digging if I’m going to write this story. I pull up the paper’s archives and start looking for a good starting point.
It doesn’t take me long. There was a survivor. Someone who was young enough that she could still be alive today. It would be a great slant on the story to get an eye witness account, a real life account of what it felt like to be caught up in it all. She would give the piece condemning the attraction as making money out of people’s suffering the human touch.
Sally Mitchell. The matron at the time of the rampage was only twenty-two when it happened. She’d be eighty-five now, I think doing a quick calculation. But she could be alive. It’s barely even old these days.
Searching for her is going to be my starting point. No one wants to read a history of a building. But plenty of people will want to read an eye witness account of the carnage that took place that night. Even this long later. Sex sells, but death sells more.
I Google Sally Mitchell and get over a million results. I add Riley Asylum to the search and soon narrow it down. I scribble down Sally’s last known address and get ready to leave the office.
On my way out, I stop at the junior reporters and choose two of them at random.
“I need one of you to finish the new book release article and get it sent across to Mike,” I say. “And I need the other one to find me contact numbers for each of these people.”
I throw Mike’s list as them and rush out of the office, vaguely wondering who’ll get the short straw and have to research the list. Personally, I think that’s the better job, but a published article is a published article when you’re a junior.
Click here to get The Asylum Tour now.
So what do you think? Let me know in the comments 🙂
And don’t forget to buy the book, only £1.99!
You can find me here: Twitter Facebook Bloglovin Pinterest and Instagram Please do stop by and say hi!
Johanna Montilla
Congrats on your new book!!!!
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Maria | passion fruit, paws and peonies
Wow – this is fantastic – congratulations – such an achievement!! x
Michelle Kellogg
I loved this book! So glad you wrote it Debbie! Congratulations on your newest achievement:) #anythinggoes
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you so much 🙂
Sophie
Love It! It’s brill. I don’t have a kindle…..can I buy a paperback version? Honestly, I would buy this.
#anythinggoes
Debbie, My Random Musings
Sure 🙂 I’ve just got my order of print books delivered today. Shoot me an email and we can arrange it debbie@myrandommusings.co.uk
Sophie
I managed to download a sample through the kindle app (who knew!) but I would love a paperback! I will email you Debbie.
Debbie, My Random Musings
Oh I didn’t know you could do that without a Kindle account! Got your email 🙂
Clare
Wow well done, this looks and sounds fantastic. #anythinggoes
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Alice | Letters to my Daughter
Well done on releasing a new book – I’ve always wanted to write a novel but seem to lose steam half way through. I love that there are 3 strong female characters!! #AnythingGoes
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 You should totally go for it – set aside time to write each day and stick to it and it’ll be finished before you know it
Gemma - Mummy's Waisted
Congratulations! Although I’m such a wimp that I’ll have to read it in the daytime! #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 Haha a few people have said that!
Rebecca Roversi @ Educating Roversi
What an achievement! Congratulations! It’s not the genre of book I tend to read, although saying that I’m struggle to finish any kind of book with a 3 month old. When I start reading it makes me fall asleep! 😂. #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 I can imagine with a three month old reading isn’t high on your priority list lol
Sonia
Ooh this sounds brilliant. Love it! Well done 🙂 #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Cecile Blaireau
Reading this reminds me of a video game my partner used to play and it was scary! You have a way to give me a scare! I have not read such a book for a long time. I need to get back into it I think #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
I’m glad it gave you a scare 🙂
Treasure Every Moment
Oo this sounds gripping! Well done on releasing a new book – what an achievement you should be proud of 🙂 #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
This Scribbler Mum
Congrats on your new book! Well done! It looks very intriguing. I like stories like this! Adding it to my reading list! #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you, I hope you enjoy it 🙂
Sarah - Mud, Cakes and Wine
its brilliant and sounds a great read, you are clever #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Welsh Mum Writing
Congratulations on the new book! I do love a good horror story. #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Enda Sheppard
Well done and best of luck with it. #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
Emma McCarthy
Congratulations and well done! What an achievement! I’ll make sure I download it for my kindle! #BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 I hope you enjoy it
Sara @ Magical Mama Blog
I don’t want to read the whole blurb because I want to get it all in one sitting! Definitely going to grab a copy when I get home!
Congratulations on your huge achievement!
#BloggerClubUK
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you so much 🙂 I hope you enjoy the book!
mummy here and here
Sounds like an enthralling read X #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 x
Charlie
Fantastic achievement, looks like a thrilling read and is now on my list!
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you, I hope you enjoy it!
Musings of a tired mummy...zzz...
Congratulations on publishing your new book! It was a fab read and the characters were great. Gory but also heartbreaking #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 I’m so glad you enjoyed it
Jayden R. Vincente
That’s so exciting! I love the “write the book you would want to read” mantra. I think when we focus on that, we write better books, too!
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂 I agree – if we don’t love the book we’re writing, no one else is going to!
Helena
Well done on the publication of your new release #bloggerclubuk
Debbie, My Random Musings
Thank you 🙂
#Giveaway - The Asylum Tour - My Random Musings
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