Killer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short story I submitted for my AS Level English in 2011 at school. I got a C for this piece of work and thought I would share it to see what feedback I'd get.

Cover is one of my own photographs.

Copyrighted

Submitted: June 12, 2016

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Submitted: June 12, 2016

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I sat watching the television, my hair messy. I hadn’t been out of the house in days, my eyes were glued to the screen as I took in the local news report. ‘Man murdered in city centre,’ was todays headline.

 ‘This is ridiculous,’ I thought. ‘That’s the third murder within a month, no wonder I don’t leave the house.’

 I sighed, got up off the old chair I was sitting on and pulled out the newspaper articles about the previous two murders from the cabinet. I placed them down on the table,  grabbed today’s newspaper and cut out the latest murder article before sitting down and placing them in a line next to one another.

 I studied each article individually trying to link the murders. There was no clue to who the murderer was, no clues to why they were doing this, it was a crime that even the police or detectives couldn’t solve. I sat for most of the night, the dim streetlight lighting my small council flat. I finally admitted I couldn’t solve this and went to bed.

The next morning I was woken by children playing in the skate park next to the council estate. I lay in bed for another five minutes before lazily sitting up, then making my way into the kitchen. I turned on the TV before flicking the switch on the kettle, slumped back down in the old chair again to watch the local news. There was footage from the crime scene where another murder had taken place, just down the road from where I lived. 

 “Anyone who knows anything please come forward,” the reporter said.

‘Why aren’t they catching this murderer?’ I thought. ‘Just set CCTV up and it’ll be easy.’

 “The murderer has left no clues, they’ve been very careful,” the reporter said. “All we can do is wait to see if they strike again.”

 ‘Great idea, just wait and see if someone else gets murdered before you start questioning people,’ I thought.

 A few weeks passed, most mornings I’d wake up and there would’ve been no murders and I would think that they’d been caught, but then they’d strike again and I’d been proved wrong. There had been six murders and my flat was starting to look like a detectives’ office:  newspaper articles everywhere, the television constantly on the local news channel. There’s a white board where I’ve written things down that are important, such as how the victims were murdered, either strangled or stabbed. I also had a board for clues about who the murderer was,  but that was empty.

 “You need to clean up in here Emma,” my cousin Jazz said as she fell over a chair she was trying to climb over to escape the pile of newspapers on the floor.

 “I will, when the murderer’s caught,” I replied, helping her up.

“Why are you so interested in these murders?” She was clearly curious.

 “I don’t know. I just feel like I can solve the mystery of who the killer is.”

“But you’ve never taken any interest in other crimes in the city.”

 “This one’s different, I feel that if I try hard enough I’ll solve it. The others seemed impossible to solve but this one isn’t and I know it,” I explained.

 Jazz didn’t seem convinced. “Just be careful, the murderer could find out about you investigating this and kill you as well.”

 “They won’t find out…”

“They might already know.”

 “They don’t, the only way they would know is if they spoke to you, you’re the only one who knows about me investigating this,” I said. “Unless you’re the murderer,” I made eye contact with her.

 Jazz seemed annoyed. “Me? No. Why would you think that?”

“Just the way you said they might already know I’m investigating this.”

 “I would never kill someone just for the sake of killing them.”

“You never know.”

 “Are you accusing me?” Her eyes widened, she was shocked.

“No,” I lied. I was accusing Jazz, she was acting strangely. It was like she was trying to stop me investigating this, maybe she knew who the murderer was and didn’t want me to find out; maybe she was working alongside the murderer, figuring out who the next victim was.

 “Do you know who the murderer is? Are you working alongside the murderer?” I asked.

 “No, why would I do that? Why are you accusing me?” Jazz’s tone was changing, everytime I questioned her, her voice became high pitched when she replied.

“You’re acting strange.”

 “Are you insane? Accusing your own cousin of murder?” Jazz waved her arms, she was angry.

“Maybe I am,” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m not.”

 “I’m leaving.”

“What’s the rush?”

 “You’re questioning me about something I had nothing to do with, I’m not staying here any longer,” she said,  slamming the door as she left

 The names of the victims were soon released: Jen Stanley, Peter Williams, Millie Brookes, Jessica Lawson;  Kelly and Ben Johnson were brother and sister, murdered on the same night in the same place, both stabbed. The murderer must’ve found them together, killing two was no more difficult than killing one. I looked at the pictures, the names and ages of each of them made me think I knew them, I was sure I did.

 “We are suspicious that all six victims were ex-students of Blue Water High, they were all in the same year group and they were all in their mid-twenties,” the reporter said.

 I did know them; they had been to the same high school as me and were the same age; why hadn’t I noticed this before?

 “The police have released a description of the person they’re looking for, a short blonde female with brown eyes and in her mid-twenties. They want to question her to find out if she knows anything,” the reporter said.

 I got up to get my coat; I was going to search for this murderer. When I grabbed my coat a plastic bag fell off the peg. I didn’t remember putting that there, looking through it there were clothes, covered in blood, and a rope.  I remembered that those six people bullied me at school, looking in the mirror I stared into brown eyes framed by untidy blonde hair. 

And I recalled nothing.

Copyrighted

 


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