Good story or bad story?

Mar 25, 2011, 9:05 PM |

The Room

                Pacing up and down the cemented sidewalk refreshing my memory of the latest case in the hands before me, it was psychotic for me to allow the priorities’ to reach scum like drastic measures. Scanning up and down the park for any signs of life, it would be me to pay for the consequences gushed out to the fatal mistake of trusting someone I barely meet with the pieces to my future. Thinking at the same time listening I heard a low screech; panicking I could only see stillness in the trees above me, dew on the grass beside me, and emptiness in the houses and playground approximately seventy yard out in length. Perfect murder is impossible to get away for there are always witnesses, but there was nobody seemed like they were miles away from here safe from harm and me. I heard another low screech from where I had no clue was coming from but it just petrified me no was happening, it was blur dashing past the trees around me not an animal, but kids playing tag running from each other. The silence was broken, as the grass began to rustle I heard footsteps tapping against the sidewalk, a voice spoke to me, though I couldn’t understand this language making my bones quiver. Unsure how my life was going to end in these very moments I no longer hunched over my back but rather stare straight into the rising sun over the glories mountains admiring their true beauty as I heard a faint metallic clink, then saw no more.

            In the time of ruthlessness and poverty, influenza is a victim to blame in crises times such as these, for man is the nonstop variable always changing in the experiment; the hero, villain, or the curious. In circumstance of the annihilation of life as people know, man will just play as another factor of how or what will happen, standing as vertices in a triangle, a time will come to connect us.

                “Theories,” says revolting commander officer Gerald. Glancing over detective Ross’s shoulder he read the note out loud, to Dan Ross’s own surprise his mind had wondered off reading this important note a of clean evidential murder case.

                “So how did this, Dr. Steven lose his life,” Henry Gerald spoke with heisitation.

                “Bullet impaled his mendulla, but still no clarification on the type of the bullet, the wound is flawlessly cleaned and the bullet was extracted,” spoke forensic specialist Dave Cooper.

                “Any witnesses or finger prints on that letter/note?” grunts Henry Gerald.

                “Not that we no of this early in the morning, but we've found some finger prints the data base team is on it as we know it,” speaks analysis Wallace Herbert.

                 Satisfied by the sophistication in his troop, Henry declared his team to make proud of the resolution of the solved cold case the previous day and with one last glance at the note saying to himself great another loon on the streets of Dyersburg. The crew and himself regrouped and headed back to Center to have more confirmation on this note's owner, looking at his watch it was eight-twenty he hoped the press and civilians’ wouldn’t take notice until noon. Taking to notice to Henry's right he saw about a boy probably twelve, yet lookied somewhat familiar from years or maybe days ago, the boy’s eyes told him "remember me", staring into each other for a minute, the five-one boy shadowed behind the tree scattering away from the crime scene to the north of Nicholas Park. Only muffling, the commander officer adverted his eyes to the scene before him, the team only had partial evidence of who or what killed Dr. Colton Stevens, though whoever it was the officer had a hunch that boy was involved.

                Separately the crew road to the Center after bagging the body and gently placing it on the stretcher and into the ambulance arriving ten minutes after the scene was locked off from the public strapped with the o-so yellow tape. Gerald Henry rode along with Detective Ross it was always quiet as they drove toward the police station, Detective Ross had remained quiet for few minutes although the question he wanted to ask was burning out of his flesh. Silence consumed the car's atmosphere; no matter in any case this process would repeat over and over again, as the detective continued to drive to Center with any hope of salvation as a case such as their last. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat commander Gerald became irritated by the raunchy material used in the police car, noticing the strain he was having on his fellow college, Henry tried to make chatter for the raucous he was causing.


“Yes Officer”