An excerpt from Chapter 2

Tim could see a faint scratch on the glass where the bird’s beak had struck it. The bird was still staring at him – a soulless stare, reminding Tim of the scariest of places. Its eyes were the colour of egg yolk, with thick black pupils darker than the night. It blinked slowly, sending Tim back to that dream where he was standing on his front garden in mid-air as a large black bird nosedived towards him.

When Bagley wasn’t looking, Tim tapped once on the window, just lightly, but the bird didn’t flinch. It just continued to sit where it was, motionless. He tapped on the window again, this time more forcefully.

Nothing.

Tim blinked as the bird snapped its neck to the right, then to the left. It looked around most unnaturally, as if it didn’t belong to the world at all. As if movement itself were alien.

Tim noticed that instead of circling “A”, Patrick had circled “C” by mistake, probably distracted by that creepy bird. He knew Patrick was dirty, but he wasn’t stupid.

‘Achoo!’ went Patrick again, this time spraying his nose glue all over the window. He put his hand to his nose, then wiped it down his trousers.

‘You boy!’ said Bagley.

Turning and facing Mr Bagley, Tim pointed to himself and asked ‘me, Sir?’

‘No, not you Shaw. I’m talking to you, Holmes. Stand up lad.’

Tim sighed and turned to the window sill. Patrick stood up.

The bird stretched out its wings, squawked loudly and shrilly, then took flight. A single black feather remained on the window sill. Tim stared at the feather. It blew off the sill and spun around in circles, falling and falling, until it was out of sight.

An excerpt from Chapter 11

Sat on the side of the bed, Daniel observed the wires and monitors attached to the man who lay there. For a few seconds, Daniel replayed the slow motion footage in his head, picturing once more the image of the motorcyclist as he flew over the bonnet of the car.

Daniel leaned towards the motorcyclist’s ear and whispered, ‘who’s been a naughty boy then…..’

He placed his hand over the motorcyclist’s forehead and held his hand. As he gripped the man’s hand tighter, a light spark shot around Daniel’s fingers.

‘Not long now,’ said Daniel, as the man’s eye’s started to close.

The monitor began to beep erratically and the green line straightened in the middle of the screen.

As the doors burst open, a small army of doctors and nurses rushed to the aid of the motorcyclist.

‘Get him out of here,’ one of the doctors shouted, pointing at Daniel. Two of the male nurses led Daniel out of the room.

Daniel watched through the window on the door as they tried to resuscitate the motorcyclist. Observing the monitor, he whistled the tune “Always look on the bright side of life” as it continued to flatline.

He turned his head around. ‘Just before you draw your terminal breath,’ he said, smiling at one of the female nurses who could see him through the window.

An excerpt from Chapter 14

As midnight fell on the Spinning House, Tim and Gemma wandered deeper into the corridors. Many of the inmates were already asleep in their beds.

‘What’s that noise?’ said Gemma.

‘I hear it too. Like a tapping noise. Seems to be coming from one of the windows.’

The tapping stopped.

‘I think it was coming from this room,’ said Tim as he opened the doors. Gemma followed him into the room.

Two young women stirred in their beds, half asleep. Faint cracks on the walls seemed to light up, as a faint noise floated over the girl’s beds towards the window.

‘Can you hear that hissing?’ said Gemma. ‘Like a….’

‘Whisper,’ said Tim.

One of the women sprang up in bed, eyes wide open and glanced at the window. She lit the candle by her bed and tiptoed over to the window.

‘She looks frightened,’ said Gemma.

The woman slowly spread her palms over the glass and whispered, ‘I’m sorry……’

‘Who’s she talking to?’ said Tim.

‘No one. There’s no one there.’

The window glazed over in a sheet of cloudy ice. The woman’s breath visible as she exhaled in short gasps over the frosted pane. She tried to pull her hands away from the window, but struggled to move them.

‘What’s happening to her, Tim?’

Tim touched the glass and felt a dark, cold sensation take a grip of his body.

Gemma pulled him away. ‘She’s stuck Tim. She’s stuck to the window.’

Tim turned as the room filled with the sound of whispers. The whispers were soft and unclear. Odd words stood out intermittently.

Gemma got as close to the window as she could without touching it, finding a small gap that hadn’t frosted over.

‘See anything?’ said Tim.

‘No, n…’

Crack.

A great big black bird smacked into the glass, right where Gemma was looking and made Gemma scream. She toppled backwards, looking for something to hold on to.

Tim grabbed her arm and they both turned to look at the bird perched on the window sill outside. Its gaze was fixed on the young woman, before turning to them with its coal coloured, soulless eyes.