Little Jolly: The Fun Here Has Just Begun

By Hany Mohammed

Isaac wakes in a room inside Little Jolly, an old mental asylum that holds a handful of patients. He can’t remember anything of what happened to him or what got him thrown into this place. Soon, he learns he was the victim of a brutal accident that stole his memory. Followed by this revelation is an odd warning: don’t try to escape or he’ll end up like “Old Johnny.”

Day after day, Isaac submits to therapies and medications. He meets his fellow residents—some friendly, some not, some miserable, and some completely insane. Two particular residents haunt him the most: a little girl and a tall clown. He feels their mysterious presence everywhere and hears their eerie voices in every room. Who are they? What is their story?

For Isaac, the so-called fun has just begun as he begins to realize the full ramifications of his sentence and the horrific truths lurking in every corner of the asylum. As time passes, he might as well not have been warned. Escape was never an option.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665704472

Hany Mohammed

Hany Mohammed is an Egyptian author and artist. He is currently studying at university and living happily with his parents, sister, and brother.

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Copyright © 2021 Hany Mohammed.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0347-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0446-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0447-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021905261

Archway Publishing rev. date: 05/28/2021

CONTENTS

ADVANCE PRAISE

PROLOGUE

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

THANK YOU

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Welcome to Little Jolly,

In here, it’s so much fun,

Where you can throw your insane daughter,

Or your mentally ill son,

In here, they will be happy,

Playing with their mad friends,

Behind the black doors, it’s crazy,

It’s where all sanity ends,

They’ll eat, sing, and dance,

While their brains are healing,

Trapped in Little Jolly,

Happiness is what we’re feeling,

Come now visit us,

And don’t forget to bring your friend,

Here in Little Jolly,

Is where your lives will end,

Therapies and lobotomies,

In them, I find my joy,

Ice picks inside my eyes,

For them, my brain is a toy,

Inside the dark rooms,

We’ll muffle your breath,

Then we’ll tie your hands,

And beat you up to death,

Here in Little Jolly,

We need you and all your friends,

Your bodies will be slaughtered,

And used in experiments,

The best part about this all,

Is that you won’t suffer pain,

Your organs will be stolen,

After you go insane,

We’ll keep your tongue and kidneys,

And you can keep your useless soul,

It’ll follow you right to hell,

But it’s not a lot worse after all,

Welcome to Little Jolly,

In here, it’s so much fun,

ADVANCE PRAISE

‘He personalises imagination and embodies fiction using strong words that would haunt you for many days.’

—Elsayed Mohamed

‘The accuracy of description and the beauty of expression allows you to live the story, meet its characters, and witness its events. Suspense and thrills are all that you’re promised.’

—Ingy Hany

‘It starts smartly, thrives brilliantly, and ends surprisingly. A true example of what modern fiction novels should look like. Can’t wait to see this masterpiece made into a movie.’

—Jana

‘Hair-raising plot with spine-chilling twists. Read it, and you’ll forget the taste of sleeping.’

—Youssef

‘A perfectly written work of fiction by a creative, young talent. A really enjoyable plot and a well-written novel. Can’t wait for more work by such a talented author.’

—Seif Ehab

PROLOGUE

I closed the door and locked the gate behind what they called, ‘hell.’ I did it for the millionth time but this time, it felt different. This time was the last. It was very windy. It was piercing cold, but I could still feel the warmth. The heat, it was as hot as the flames. It was blinding dark, but I could still see the light. The blaze, it was as bright as the sun. It was deafening quiet, but I could still hear the sounds. The screams, they were as loud as the day of the fire. I was walking back to the car. I could feel the bones of my spine shivering in my throat, as I tried to muffle it inside the thin collar of my white shirt. I could see the gusts flurrying in front of me, as I heaved the chills out of my chest. I could hear my black leather shoes slowly tapping on the wet concrete floor of the entrance, as I gloomily stumbled away from the gate. I could hear the keys nervously shaking in the pocket of my navy coat, as I dived my freezing fingers tighter inside. I wished my royal-blue tie could clutch the iceberg warmer until it thawed. I begged my cotton socks to squeeze the glaciers harder until they melted. I dug my hand out of the shallow layer of cotton that buried it and put it on the handle of the car’s door. I looked up at it, the building, and all of a sudden, I believed them when they said, ‘you’re the only one who truly loves this hellhole, doctor!’ I loved my job. I mean, ten years are enough to make hell look normal! They made it familiar. I opened the door, crouched, and sat in the car.

Even the foggy glass of the window, could not stop me from looking at it. It was always loud, crowded with thousands of people and now, it just looked like remnants. It looked older. It looked abandoned. I turned back to the wheel with a sigh that almost honked its horn and slammed the red door shut.

It was not earlier when I felt no chills. The warmth of the seat hugged my back. It was only then when I heard no screams. The silence of the car deafened my ears. But I could still hear my thoughts. They drove with me along the way. They were driving me to madness. And I drove away into the road between the woods.

Every tree I drove past stood to say goodbye. Every leaf mourned and withered. Every rock the headlights unveiled said, ‘farewell.’ Every pebble under the tires quivered. Every time I looked up at the void sky, I saw it getting darker. Every time I looked forward at the desolate road, I felt it getting deeper. My fears dragged me down its narrowing end.

What about Avril? What am I going to tell her? What is she going to say? I thought miserably, weakly, as I sulked at the car’s telephone. What about Sarah?

I was still unconvinced by the new place. That new job the damn government tossed to me like a dog! It felt so unfair. I felt so helpless. After all, no one wanted this place to exist, no one except me. Ten years of work amounted to nothing. Ten whole years of efforts fluttered on the ground in front of me, diminishing into dust before my eyes, my teary eyes, as I slogged back the same way I crossed every day for three thousand six hundred and fifty days. It felt bitter in my chest. It was burning in my heart. And I could not see the road that clear now. It got blurry with tears.

But what about the patients? I questioned myself dreadfully, as I remembered them. I remembered how awful their mental conditions have gotten to during the past weeks. I remembered how feeble their minds have become. I was not going lie to myself anymore, none of them was healing, not even by a whiff, but they were too unstable to be released like that. I remembered that one patient who was admitted to the hospital about seven days ago. They said he was some kind of a public figure or something, but things took a wrong turn pretty quickly with him. They said he kidnapped his daughter from his wife and tied her up to the bed. When things got worse, he … killed her.

Light in the side mirror.

They did not lie when they said, ‘he lost it.’ The man came with a red traffic cone in his hand that he just would not leave. He kept blathering inside the hole he made in the pointed end of the cone, blathering on about something that sounded like the intro of a television show or a radio podcast. He kept repeating something called ‘the Dan talkers’ whatever that meant. I did not think about it much. I mean, there is a reason these people are here, right? He suffered severe, rather violent states of hysteria daily. We saved him from stabbing his veins with a fork twice at dinnertime. He went absolutely bananas.

Headlights in the side mirror.

What medications could cure that guy for God’s sake! I wanted to yell at the face of the sheriff that goddamn gruff face! I did, but it made no difference.

Car!

BEeEEep! My heart plummeted down to the bottom of the seat like a bowling ball. My feet crushed down the gas pedal like a wrecking ball. And my fists thrust the wheel to the right once I heard the horn tearing my left eardrum and saw the damn car flashing past my left cheek! I veered sharply off the road and was going to crash into the tree. It would have been over if it was not for my foot that loudly squealed the brakes and mercilessly broke its spring. Thankfully, I stopped the car on the side of the road and left it lying there, diagonally blocking the lane I drove inside. I could not look at that car with my shaky eyes. I was not able to hear the man cursing from the puffs. They blew out of my throat. They bombed inside the muffled car. They shattered the glass windows. They pierced back through my ear canals. My heart was racing, my eyes were gaping, my muscles were shivering, and my bones were shaking. Startled on the seat, I could feel my organs searching for my soul just to make sure it was still there. I shuddered every second I saw my skull mangled against the windscreen. I felt sick every time I imagined the glass shredding my flesh. I felt its shards on my skin. How the hell was I still alive! After minutes, I regained my conscious, retrieved my senses, collected myself, and twisted the key.

After the seventeen minutes of the road and the couple of others I took after that incident, I reached the garage of the house. I parked the car, pulled the handbrake, and stepped out morosely. I was thinking about how I was going to tell her. I did not know how I was going to bring it up. I gazed at the house when I was in front of it and heaved a deep sigh. I could see it blowing in the air. I could see the woe inside it. I noticed that the lights of the second room on the left of the upper floor were turned off. Usually, she would be up until now. She would greet me.

It is so late at night though. Perhaps she fell asleep. I thought to myself when I checked the time in my gold-coated watch that the sleeve of the coat hid. In misery, I plodded up the steps to the door with my burden on me. Even the hand grabbing the keys from my pocket could not heft it off my drooped shoulders. Even the hand toiling behind me on the handrail failed to lift it off my hunched back. I climbed up the last stair, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

‘Avril! What’s wrong!’ I screamed like a little girl and ran to her like she was my mother. She was forced on her knees beside my father. I darted to her without thinking, but I felt afraid. I stretched my hands to her but before I could untie her hands, before I could ungag her mouth, before I could carry her off the floor, before I could touch her, before I could wipe her tears, before I could see her smile, before I could say goodbye, I was hit on the back of my head.

LITTLE JOLLY

CHAPTER ONE

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‘Y ou look so beautiful when you are scared, but don’t be, silly. After all, he’s you, the real you under this fake, soft skin. That’s right, your lies shaped you that way, and your debts brought you here to pay them. You see, you should’ve paid them a long time ago but like a dirty, dirty rat, you’ve always managed to escape! Finally, you came right here and here, there is no escape. I will scoop your eyeballs out of your sockets and chew them between my teeth. I don’t think you’ll need them anymore, as your selfishness has always blinded you. Then I will cut your tongue with a razor and lick the blood off it. I don’t think you will need it either, as you’ve always used it to spit your damn lies! I will then rip your ears off. You won’t use them anymore, as you’ve never listened to our suffering. Then I will twist your limbs off your body and bite the raw flesh off their bones. You won’t use them either, as you’ve always used them to harm us. Next I will tear your brain out of your skull and smash it under my feet. You don’t deserve to have one, as it has never thought of anything, except your pleasure and only your pleasure! Finally, I will snatch your heart out of your chest and feast on it, as it beats. You don’t deserve to have it too, as you’ve always left it to rot every time you chose yourself over us. You will pay and you’re the price. Only your life shall suffice.’

Gasp! I woke up on a metal bed with no sheets in the corner of a room. My heart was a hammer crushing my ribcage, as it beat inside, and my breaths were nails cutting my throat, as they hurtled out. Rapidly, I raised my back off the bed and sat up on its edge, panting in shock. I felt as if my vertebral column was snapped into two halves. Its pain was flames that burnt the flesh off my back, and its throbs were lightning bolts that burst through the bones of my limbs. It felt like I had barely snatched my soul back before it was sucked out of me.

Where the hell am I? I worryingly thought to myself, not able to remember anything of what had happened, anything at all. My muscles were statue still and my bones were wood rigid, as I sat on the dirty mattress of the bed, engulfing the musty smell of the room’s dust, the one that crammed my alveoli. Gradually, my heart thudded calmer. Little by little, my puffs blew quieter. And with my shaky eyes, I started inspecting every dim corner of the room.

The square room was small, simple, and had an old-fashioned style despite its weirdly painted walls. They were painted in a pale tea-rose colour, all around the mint-green ceiling. The foggy lamp hanging down from the ceiling barely exuded any light. It failed to light up the corners of the narrow room. It was scarce in furniture, as it had nothing except the bed I slept on and an old wooden desk that had some papers scattered on top of it. They were held down by a glass vase that had a dry chrysanthemum flower sticking out of it. I looked up and noticed the teal-blue and white camera beside the giant grey horn speaker that was fixed upon the wall opposite to me. I also noticed how new it looked in this old room. It felt a little odd. Despite the room not having any medical devices or medicines, it still felt and smelled like an old hospital room for me. Maybe it was just my fears.

No sooner had I got up from the stiff mattress did the back of my head bomb with sharp, rapid electric shocks. I screeched from the ache when I felt the spurts of blood gushing through my eye veins. I raised my right hand to my head, as my left one held onto the desk near the room’s door, saving me from collapsing to the ground. The frail legs of the desk squeaked loudly against the ground. Its decaying wood almost shattered only by resting my hand on it and when I took it off, I found my fingers fleeced with a powder, one that I later thought was wood dust or grime. My shaking hand climbed its way up to the rusty bronze handle of the room’s door, but it could not pull it down. I could not expect what I would see beyond. I could not imagine who I would meet behind. Once I gained my courage and opened the door, I saw a woman standing right outside the door, eagerly waiting for me to wake up. Maybe a little too eager.

She was a sweet and lovely middle-aged brunette who had a charming appearance and a vivacious temper. Her round eyes were Tahitian pearls on top of silver nacres, her thin, smiling lips were glossy roses, her soft, pure skin never revealed her actual age, and her hands were gently crossed at her waist. With the high heels she was wearing, her body was almost my height or just a few centimetres shorter. Her neat, prim uniform and the mini Holy Bible, which never left her pocket, were mirrors reflecting her deeply pious personality. She wore a white bib apron reaching below her knees on top of a blue-grey pinstriped blouse, a white armband with the name ‘Little Jolly’ and a red cross sign stitched to its long sleeve, and a tall skirt underneath. She also wore a starched white nurse cap with the same sign on top of her silk-soft hair that had a beautiful vintage updo style.

‘Oh … sweetie, you’re awake!’ she said in a beautifully delicate British accent. Her voice was soft and soothing. It was honeyed. She greeted me and widened her smile, but her eyes could not muffle the concern, and her face could not hide the worry that was gradually drawn onto her features. Her eyes continuously left me and shifted into the room behind me. I did not know why, but they did. I did not know what but they kept quickly checking something on my left.

‘Where am I? What happened to me?’ my tongue rapidly spat in worry.

‘Don’t you remember?’ she asked now with her smile ceased.

‘Remember what? No, I-I don’t remember anything,’ I replied, as I saw her face now deadly serious. I roamed the land of my mind, hunting for something to harvest, but there were no burgeons of memory planted there. It was barren. I squeezed my brain, begging for anything to water new seeds with, but there were no drops of memory left inside. It was dry.

‘Oh, God!’ she whispered with her face stained with anxiety and her voice grained with fear. ‘Anyway, let’s go, sweetie. The principal wants to see you. There he can tell you everything you need to know.’

Slowly, I stepped out of the room in a deep stun and started walking with her through a corridor. It was long and gloomy that I could barely see the double door at its end. It was cold, so cold that I heard the gusts blowing around me. Over us, were the fine particles of dust. I could see them clearly like they were bits of Ceres all hovering around the cold suns above. They kept crashing into my blurry globes, the ones that were inspecting the cosmos. On both yellow walls of the corridor, were tens of black doors with numbers painted onto their rusted metal. A similar horn speaker was fixed onto the wall about every seven doors. Along the floor of the hallway, four huge squares of red Persian carpets were spread with each one touching the white tassels of the one preceding it but from the two sides, they were too narrow to cover the whole wooden floor. The atmosphere was mostly silent until the silence got cracked by a sudden scream or a loud giggle coming from behind the double door at the end.

Her vintage black shoes splattered muffled clacks on the carpet and their heels stabbed its fabric, as she formally trod beside me to the door before she started talking.

‘Welcome to Little Jolly, Isaac. My name is Mrs Annie, and I will be your nurse,’ she introduced.

‘My nurse? What the hell happened to me? Why am I here?’ I beseeched her for answers in a strange voice, one that stuttered worryingly. It was much more anxious than before.

‘Don’t worry, sweetie. You will know everything, but only when it is time to,’ she replied calmly with a smile and left me speechless. Her coldness left me dazed. I did not know what to say. She gave me nothing to utter. She just would not answer. We continued walking, as fears and doubts kept stinging my thoughts deeper until I could barely hear her talking.

We reached the end of the corridor before she raised her arm and pushed the black double door that had two square windows revealing a brighter room behind it.

I found myself inside a vast semicircle reception that had nothing but some old wooden benches scattered along its walls. They were painted in a faded red hue, unlike its eye-catchingly weird cherry-red ceiling. All over the walls, were multiple frames hung above the benches. They held pictures of people, who I thought looked like patients, standing beside their nurses and doctors, but their glass covers were too dusty to reveal the contents of the images clearer. Just like the other room, this one felt old and grubby with an unpleasantly silent atmosphere. It had the same dusty whiff.

As my eyes roamed around, I noticed how dust covered this place and how spider webs coated it. I inhaled the air deeply into my lungs when I felt the space I needed in the room in which I woke up. It smelled fossil dated. It still smelled stuffy. I was trying to breathe. I was trying to calm myself down before I heard far footsteps or heavy tapping on the ground coming from behind the other double door on my right. At first, I doubted my ears, as they were barely heard from a distance, but they never stopped escalating. They were coming, coming quickly towards the door.

‘Jasmine, I would like you to meet Isaac, our new friend. He will be living here with us until he is right as rain. Till then, I would like you to welcome him and treat him well,’ Mrs Annie introduced me to the woman who I literally never noticed sitting on a wooden chair, quietly staring right at me from the far corner of the room.

She was a woman in her early forties, but her rough, wrinkled skin made her look much older. Her dirty, scraggly hair was stretched wires bent into a low bun, barely touching her white uniform that was similar to mine. Her features were so harsh. They were so ugly. Her eyebrows were thick, her nose was curved, and her lower jaw was severely protruding. Her hands freely rested on her lap and on her left ring finger, was a beautiful silver engagement ring. Its brilliance felt odd in a way. It just did not seem to match her tinted appearance. Piles of dust covered her just as it covered the chair she sat on as if she had never stood up before. She never spoke a word or moved a muscle, but her terrifying, wide smile and her chilling stare left me frozen in fear.

There was a weird moment of silence, as the woman never answered Mrs Annie or even looked at her but seconds later, the door on my right was slammed, and a man entered, crouched and walking on all four of his limbs like a gorilla.

He was an ugly, bald man who had coarsened and bulging face bones. The shape of his skull looked abnormal, almost, deformed. It was strongly peaked. From back there, I could evidently view the Paricutin across the canyons of his eyebrows. Beneath them, I could barely notice his small, wide-set mounds. He wore nothing but a loose underwear that he soiled too much that it was not white anymore. His sweat was a flood drowning the wiry forests of his body hair that covered every skin cell of his naked body from his filthy feet and giant arms to his stocky chest and neck. He was as fat as he was retarded, and I always felt that his sudden actions were the least expected and the most dangerous.

He entered the room and in his gorilla position, he started spinning around in circles like a massive dog eagerly chasing his tail. I did not know what to feel towards him. While I was watching him pounding on his chest and roaring, I felt stupefied. I felt unsettled.

That guy is totally bananas! I did not want to see one more action to analyse. I did not need a second more to conduct.

‘Oh, Simon! I am glad you came. This is Isaac, our new friend. Come say hello to him,’ she ordered him excitedly before he slowly stood up while looking at me in disgust and started walking towards me. He started getting close to me, in fact, too close in an uncomfortable way. He continued walking closer, shattering every layer of my personal space with every stomp he took nearer to my face. He never stopped until I felt his rank breaths smashing into my face like the harshest of storms and smelled nothing but his stinky sweat that rotted my lungs. I did not realise how massive his body was until he stood that close to me. He looked like an ogre. The more he got closer, the more I felt rat weak in front of him, as his gigantic body greatly exceeded the mass and height of mine. I stood silent but scared, as he started snuffling my neck with his huge, hairy nose, for no reason, until its hooked tip almost stabbed my throat. Mrs Annie stood beside me, watching with a smile and nodded to me when I looked at her, trying to cool my blushed cheeks down. ‘Now Simon, would you please shake his hand like a good boy?’ she asked, giggling before he reached out his massive hand and said in a thick, deepened voice that sounded in my ears like the voice of Frankenstein’s Monster.

‘Shake hand, stupid sheep!’ he harshly growled in my face before I shakingly raised my hand to shake his. Inside of his hand, mine felt like a little girl’s hand that was locked inside her father’s, as he took her to a walk at the park. I shuddered at the texture of his fat, wet fist. I shuddered at the warmth of his sturdy, sweaty palm, as it soaked my delicate hand. I felt the roughness of his skin. It sanded my hand. I felt the dampness of his fingers. They varnished mine. ‘Very, very soft hand!’ he growled while squeezing his hand tighter, clenching his fingers harder. He slowly licked his lips and leered down at my hand. I could see it in his eyes, not hatred really but more like … lust. It was numbing my hand into discomfort. I pulled my hand from him, but he would not leave it. He would