- The Forgotten -

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
I was asked to write a short story for my GCSE English. I wrote a murder mystery, but I felt the full potential of the story was let down by the word limit.

Submitted: September 10, 2009

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Submitted: September 10, 2009

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It was 3:20am. The street was lifeless, except for one person walking calmly to his target – the Jones family. Carrying a small, silenced submachine gun there was no possibility he would fail; they would be weaponless. He reached the house and easily found his entrance, the open windows of his first victim’s bedroom. He landed with a small thud and he quickly snapped his head in the direction of the sleeping girl. She did not stir. He tip-toed over and placed the gun inches from her head. Her eyes shot open – she had felt his breath on her face. Mark panicked and fired. Her eyes froze open. He stared at the lifeless eyes. “She had only had such a short life”, he thought. He felt pity for her; it was not her fault, but, he thought, it wasn’t his.

He calmly walked out of the room and onto his next victim’s bedroom, the family’s second child, a boy called Reece, aged 10. The boy’s bedroom was covered in posters of the players in his favourite football team and in the corner lay his bed. He casually walked over and shot him. He didn’t even flinch. Now for his main targets, the parents. He got to their bedroom and suddenly noticed one of them was missing. He quickly shot the mother. He was panicking. What if somebody had seen him? He fled disappearing into the night. It was all he could do.

That same night at 4am the father walked in; he had been out with friends. He staggered upstairs and flung himself into bed, thinking it was strange that his wife had not woken, but he was too drunk to raise any suspicions and it was too dark to make out any details. The next morning he woke at 10am. His wife was still in bed. “She was always up before me,” he thought. Then he saw it… a bullet hole… straight through her head. He tried to get out of the bed as quickly as possible, but he fell, all the while staring at the pale face that had once been his wife. “The kids” he thought, “I have to tell them.” He ran to his daughter’s room, but she was dead. “What about Reece?” He knew he was gone too, but he had to make sure. Sitting on the sofa, tears streaming down his face, he realized he had to call the police.

They arrived within 20 minutes, as quickly as they could, they didn’t want to lose any evidence. When they found out he had been drunk the night before, he immediately became a suspect. After 1 hour of just thinking what life would be like without his family he had been so used to, he was confronted by one of the detectives.

“The entrance was quite clear, your daughter’s window. We think the murder may have taken place around an hour before you got home. Do you know anyone with the motive of killing your family?”
“No,” he replied shaking with fear.
“Have you got anywhere to stay while we investigate here?”
“I’ll stay at my sister’s. How long will it take?”
“Probably a few days, maybe up to a week, we don’t want to miss a thing. May I have your mobile number or your sister’s home number? I might need to contact you.” He wrote down his sister’s phone number on some newspaper, and left, without saying a word. The outside world meant nothing to him, he wanted to think about what he would do. He would tell his sister what had happened later, after he had been for a walk; he needed fresh air.

It was a cold day, but it comforted him. On the way to the park, he realized why he had bought the house, for the kids, as the park was close by. Approaching the park gates he thought it may not be the best place to blank out what had happened. There were young happy families - the schools were closed for the week – and he was just there, alone. The best person – the only person – he had to go to was his sister and so he made the way to her house.

He soon approached his sister’s house and had been thinking about how to tell her the news as lightly as possible, but all plans were lost as she opened the door when he knocked. Mark just broke down into tears and choked, “There dead. All of them.” She looked confused, and asked for confirmation on who he meant.

“Who? Who’s dead?” she asked.

“Anne, Reece, and Emma. Gone,” he replied, struggling to get the words out of his mouth. She just stood there, shocked. Anne and his sister were best friends, they were always together. They walked inside and she asked me if he had phoned the police, he told her that he had as soon as he knew they were dead.

“Do the police know anything yet?” she asked.
“It’s a bit early, but they did say that whoever killed them came through the window.”

They sat there in silence. Then something sparked in Alice’s, Mark’s sister, mind; Anne had a big fallout with a past partner, “Could this be an act of revenge?” she thought. She wasn’t sure whether telling Mark would be the best thing as it may have nothing to do with the murder, but she told him anyway.

“Do you know where I can find him?” Mark asked.
“He’s usually at the Royal Oak.” Mark stood up and left, he wanted to know if this person had anything to do with the murder.

It was easy to find the place, now to find the person. He walked slowly throughout the room and quickly spotted him, an overweight, bald man in the corner. He saw me, he smiled.

“Hey Mark. What you doing here?”
“Did you hear about what happened to Anne and the kids?”
The smile had gone, “yes. Do you know anything about it yet?”
“No, but do you?” The man looked puzzled, and then anger overtook him. He launched himself up and bellowed, “You’re accusing me? What makes you think I did it?”
“Maybe revenge, she left you, for me. You wanted me to suffer.” Mark said with no emotion is his voice.
“No! Not me. I couldn’t.”

Mark believed him, and just left. If it wasn’t one of her past partners then who could it be? “Who could have a grudge against my family?” he thought.

As Mark entered his sister’s house again he heard her call his name. The police were waiting to speak to him.”

“Mark, somebody has confessed to the murder, called Tom Wallace. Do you know him?” they asked.

“No, but that’s Anne’s maiden name,” Mark replied.

“So you don’t know him?” Mark shook his head. There was silence for a few seconds and then Alice remembered something, Anne had a son before she met Mark, but he was put up for adoption.

“Tom was a child of Anne’s.” Alice said. “She never told anyone except me, she saw him as a part of her old life.”

Mark seemed confused, “She had a child? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She felt it’d be better keeping it all a secret.”

A policeman said, “Do you think this could be an act of revenge, for putting him up to adoption?” Alice nodded. “Then we’ll get down to the station and see if it was the motive of the murder. Goodbye.” The policemen left for their journey to the police station.

Mark felt slightly betrayed as his wife had not told him about this forgotten child, but understood her reasons. It didn’t matter now she was dead and so were his children. He stayed at his sister’s while the police cleaned up his house, and then moved back into it a few weeks later. He didn’t feel safe in the house and sold it as quickly as possible to start a new life elsewhere. He needed to try to forget about the incident that had cost him his family, but he never could. Everyday they popped into his mind, they would never be forgotten.


© Copyright 2020 tomaisthorpe. All rights reserved.

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