EYE of the CHAMELEON

EYE of the CHAMELEON

Status: Finished

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Houses:

Summary

A murder mystery involving interesting characters in a peculiar setting with unusual murder weapons and thought-provoking twists and turns.
Share :
Twitter

Summary

A murder mystery involving interesting characters in a peculiar setting with unusual murder weapons and thought-provoking twists and turns.

Chapter1 (v.1) - CHAPTER 1

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 28, 2017

Reads: 16

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 28, 2017

A A A

A A A

 

Holy Mary, Mother of God! Have mercy…

The words buzzing in her head had never had any real meaning until now. It had only been a hollow mantra taught to her as a child and recited without conviction. Now they offered refuge from the pain—the fear—the terror.

 She struggled to breathe as her heart pounded in her chest and the raging fire in her loins and buttocks spread up her back like a hot poker being shoved up inch by inch. The sticky blood on her legs formed little rivulets before it dripped into crimson pools on the stony floor.

She tried to move as she hung suspended from the rope but the pain was too unbearable. Her right arm and leg were limp with torn ligaments, broken skin and bones wrenched from their sockets. Her thoughts were still clear despite the pain and the fear as thoughts and images flashed through her head like a movie being fast-forwarded. She was going to die like the others. Brutally and alone . . . in agony and without reason.

But she didn’t deserve to die . . . not now and not in this way. Okay, she had been to a few forbidden parties . . . had a bit too much to drink for a seventeen-year-old and bunked Mass a few times . . . but she wasn’t nearly as bad as the others . . . Nelly, Alison, Yvette and Britney. The Devil’s children! That’s what Mother Superior called them. She could never do what they did. She didn’t shout it from the rooftops but she was still a virgin and she hadn’t given herself to anyone. Even when they dared her and called her ugly names, she always managed to come up with some excuse.

She hadn’t said a word about the parties or what took place there to anyone. It was all a misunderstanding . . . a terrible misunderstanding. But it made no difference. She still didn’t escape the wrath and anger.

Now she had been left to die in the darkness. The pain, fear and anxiety made her nauseous. She lowered her head and expelled a mixture of bile and blood through her nose and mouth onto her legs. She prayed that it would end soon—that the pain and fear would be taken away.

Oh God! There were so many things she still wanted to do with her life. So many dreams . . . like travelling to places she had seen in magazines and on TV . . . becoming a successful fashion designer . . . and finding someone to love and settling down at a place overlooking the ocean. They were all slipping away into the inky blackness that threatened to swallow her.

It was their fault. Yes, they were to blame for sending her to a place of horrors and nightmares. Her blood was on their hands. She needed to learn discipline and to respect other people’s property, the magistrate had said. This place had taught her a lot more than that. The unwritten code had shown her how to cheat, how to beat the stupid system and break the rules without being caught. And what it takes to be a bad girl . . . a really bad girl.

That’s what the judicial system and her pathetic aunt had given her in exchange for a handful of DVDs from the music store. Oh yeah, they had brought up the time she took those chocolates from Shoprite and that pack of felt-tipped pens from the CNA. And she was just having some fun with friends when she bunked school for a week, and shit . . . she didn’t drink as much as they said she did.

Carmen Preston, a corrective school will do you good, they said. The nuns will keep you on the straight and narrow path, they insisted. You’ll graduate as a young lady and a role model, the social worker professed. And you can pursue your interest in designing clothes. The biggest load of crap this side of the Orange River.

The nuns were strict but naïve. They were no match for three hundred odd teenage girls with raging hormones, naturally devious minds and stunted consciences. Good morals, the nuns said, were the fibers that made a good woman walk proud and tall. Nelly said that the ten lashes on her hands were well worth telling them at assembly that it was a pity that good morals could only be achieved by those who donned dreary, sexless habits and locked themselves away from randy men and the vices of the real world. They all laughed and cheered but she was a marked girl after that . . . a stupid, marked girl.

Nelly was also to blame. There may have been a reason to hurt Nelly. She was a rebel—a threat to the holy institution, Mother Superior said. A girl that went out of her way to prove that they couldn’t bend or break her spirit even if it was uncontrollable, warped and wild. None of the beatings changed her and banishing her to solitary confinement only made her angrier and more determined. That stupid party was her crazy idea.

The pain had reached a threshold where it blinded Carmen and she felt all her senses slipping away as the outer darkness was overshadowed by a stronger darkness from within. She had reached that final stage where she welcomed the freedom from the pain and fear . . .


© Copyright 2017 Ken Klopper. All rights reserved.

Chapters

Add Your Comments:

More Mystery and Crime Books

Booksie Spring 2017 Flash Fiction Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Ken Klopper

Popular Tags