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A bit more of my detective story!... I resist the urge to shout after Phillip, instead, I sit at the bar, spirits low, heart dead.
I let the crazy woman wonder upstairs to 'her' bedroom, change 'her' clothes, before hearing 'her' scream.
"Who-who-who's there?" I asked. No answer. "Answer. Answer NOW!" A rustling of plastic bags was frail against the sharp tone of the person's voice. "Honey!" they said.
The whirring lights; red and blue, stirred in the rain slipping from the clouds' grasp, jumping diagonally from them, as if trying to escape out as far away as possible.
Go, go, go!. He ordered me out. I rushed out of the cafe and looked back where my partner pointed the gun at the man. The man smiled and pulled out something out of his pocket.
#twistedopuss A few bits of language and adult themes. The car shuddered as it rattled over the morse of potholes; these communicated only annoyance as Erica threw the Merc around the bends.
You lie hidden away from me. Consealed in the shadows to hide your ugly face. No longer can you show who you really are. For the choices you've made have locked you in this cell. Are you happy now.
I have written a bit more of my story, so here it is. Phillip Sherratt sits at the bar, his dark hair ruffled; his chestnut eyes cast downwards in sorrow. I approach in caution, wary of him.
I am writing a detective story in English, and thought I might put the start of it on Opuss, to see what you think. I woke in a cold sweat, eyes darting frantically around the room.
I wasn't going to lie - the way she gazed at me across the room, her dark eyes hard and cold in their resolution, she sent a chill down my spine.
Before my stomach conveniently decided to be sick on the rear bumper of the car, all I really had time to glimpse was her face. It looked as neutral and silent as it had a few hours earlier.
The rain washed away my resolution, and made me sober up a bit. I don't know which had the most discouraging affect on me.
It had been one of these nights again. Nothing seemed to fall into place. Nothing made any sense. This stakeout was wearing me thin.
This is my favourite poem. I heard it when I was younger and I liked it so I thought I'd share it with you. Hope you like it. Macavity - the Mystery Cat, by T.S.
Somedays i remeber what im feeling inside. Suddenly it brings me to a hault knowing what i feel isnt real. Its imaginary actions fake reactionns to it all.
# dark nursery THE QUEEN OF HEARTS SHE SOLD HER TARTS ON STREET CORNERS BY NIGHT AND DAY £10 FOR A SHOW, £20 FOR A BLOW, OR £30 FOR ALL THE WAY THEN ONE NIGHT A MAN PAID £50, BUT THE GIRL WENT...
I make haste to the next block. Sir Luke's car comes into view in the near distance.
I'm in pain. I watch the unlicensed doctor fiddle around with my bullet wound as if it was some cheap evening of pleasure spent with a hooker.
I really can't abide Those that run and hide After beating a defenceless grandmother Without the thought or care for another What was the point of your crime.
She ran fast, faster than she had ever ran before down the snow covered gravel, her lungs sore from breathing in the cold air panting and looking left and right franticly looking for a way out.
The girl opposite him gave the boy a sly look, challenging him to try. 'Just try and kiss me,' she said in her eyes, those deep-green eyes that he had seen before and had once thought beautiful.
"Mary Richards, 16, was abducted on her way home from marching band rehearsal at Henryville High School on the 21st of this month.
Chapter one: first murder The first murder is always hard to deal with.
I stared at him and I couldn't believe my eyes. Gulping, I took a deep breath and walked over to the two bunks which were sitting above one another.