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Sunrise at Midnight

Novel By: kanyewest25
Mystery and crime

Tracey is a 26 year old lady who works with hackers and soldiers. She has to help them unlock a government security account. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Dec 28, 2009    Reads: 79    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

Chapter 1

Tracey knelt down in the damp soil, ignoring the soft squelch given off by her knee when it hit the bog, and ignoring the coresponding spash of rain water, as her body displaced it slightly. She slowly leaned forward and inspected the ground, feeling around, searching, with her small, delicate hands. Like a scavenger, she would keep looking until she had found what was essential to her. What she needed was an item that was of such importance to her, that she had spent 3 long weeks searching for it. Day and night, she would walk out into the forestry, hoping to find this valuable item. Each day, her hope would decrease, and after each period of labour, she would find herself in a more miserable state than the day before. The item she was looking for was a piece of paper. What was written on it, however, was a mystery, floating around in the unknown.

Falling from her head were her long strands of hair, soaked in rain, from previous periods of heavy storms. Her hair looked a dark blonde in it's current state, though usually it would be a mild blonde, which would be slightly brown. It would also have a hint of ginger in it, which wouldn't be too easy to notice. Her eyes were an elegant, light blue, which gave off a beautiful sparkle in sufficient light.

Beyond Tracey is the remains of the forestry she was searching in. It was a collection of greens and browns, being assisted by a few other colours, taking a minor role in the fantastic view. There were many trees, mostly rather small ones, bearingfruit, nearly ready for another harvest. Then there was the odd oak tree, shadowing the smalled trees and plants. There was a small patch of flowers, which included a mix of different colours, like the yellow buttercubs, the violets and the roses. Beyond the flowers, there was ivy climbing up a small bench that had once been appealing.

Tracey churned up the wet mud with her short fingers, as she hopelessly searched for the paper she was after. She watched her hands do all the work, as if she had set them on auto pilot. She was staring down at the ground when she struck her finger on something sharp sticking out of the ground. She looked at her finger and noticed that blood had been drawn. Muttering curses under her breath, she got up and started pacing towards her back door, before relising what she had cut her finger on. She carefully picked up the shard of plastic and placed it in her left pocket.

Once Tracey had arrived inside, she went to the kitchen and rinsed all the blood off her finger, into the basin. She watched the diluted blood drain through the sink, and wiped the finger with a spare antiseptic wipe she found hidden in the bottom of her first aid kit. After thoroughly cleaning her hands, she went upstairs and filled up her bath with suitably warm water. She decided that her clothes would need cleaning after getting so dirty that day. She removed her jeans, jacket, tshirt and socks and placed them in the appropriate washing piles. After finishing that, she removed the rest of her clothes and climbed into the heated water.


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