11-01-2007, 07:36 PM
I had to write a mystery paper for my class...please PLEASE tell me what you think, I want some feedback and it's not due until Monday...
“No, this is not real,” I faintly made out as a teardrop started to form in the crusted corner of my eyes. “Who did this?” I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Who?”
“I did,” a voice yelled out from the darkness. The jolt that went through stiff when I heard, the voice had to have restarted my failing heart, because I was able to get up from my knees and spin around. I frantically swung my flashlight from side to side, trying to find the culprit
“I did it, and there’s is nothing you can do about it. This entire incident is all your fault.” The voice calmly stated to me.
“Who are you?” I asked out of pure terror.
“That is unneeded information.” He replied. “For you will not be alive long enough to tell anyone. All of a sudden it hit me like a ton of bricks, it was Maria’s ex-boyfriend Dominic, the head of the mafia.
“It could not be,” I thought, “Maria and Isabella are the same person.” It now was all falling into place, the black glove she had mysteriously had on her right arm was a symbol for being in the mafia. She most of had to have done something wrong with the mafia. But why would her ex-boyfriend kill her?
“I can see everything is coming into focus for you now Franco.” Dominic snickered. “Too bad you will have no one to tell your secret.” I could hear the freighting noise of a gun being cocked. I dropped the flashlight and sprinted for the dimly lit exit sign. BAM, BAM, BAM, I heard the gunshots go off.
“Holy crap,” I yelled, as I heard the pills wiz by me and penetrate the cold hard pavement. I needed to cop the sneak, take it on the lam, and quickly. What could I do as I peered down the empty street analyzing the best possible escape route; I took a sharp right and headed towards the docks. My boots seem to be like boulders strapped to my feet, trying to slow me down as much as possible, as I sprinted as fast as my stiff, half intoxicated body, would move me. The eighty-foot yacht was the only hiding place I could possibly take cover in. I hopped the ropes and jumped onboard. I took one glance down the street to see if I could spot Dominic. He was hot on my trail. I popped open the door to the floating house and frantically looked around for a weapon. A knife, exactly what I needed in order to protect myself. I grabbed the knife and ran into the bathroom, waiting for Dominic to come in as I peered through a tiny crack in the door. As he quickly looked around the back of the yacht, I passionately waited to make my assault and then he started to make his way towards me. It seemed as if he was in slow motion as he slowly approached the bathroom. And without one ounce fear in my body, as he walked perpendicular to the bathroom door, I kicked the bathroom door opening, slightly stunning the surprised Dominic. I then pounced on my only opportunity, and violently stabbed him in the chest, with the butcher’s knife, piercing his soft skin right above the heart. He slowly began to cough up blood, and the gun feel from his motionless hand. His head feel back, his eyes calmly shut and his body lay harmlessly on the tile floor of the yacht as blood began to pool around the stiff.
“I did it, I did it for Isabella.” I stuttered, barely making out the words. I gradually walked away in shock. Got off the boat, and figured it would be better to wait for the police to find the body and figure it out themselves. The only thing that was on my mind was my dear Isabella; her body lay crippled on the cold ground inside the warehouse and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. No hope. No last words. Nothing.
“I need a drink,” I said to myself as I redirected my coordinates at the bar. “The only thing in the world that could possible help my shattered heart now, is my frost covered fifth of jack.” I had never felt a overwhelming emotion like this before. It was as if I did not have any control over my depression. The shock from the past hour had completely destroyed my mindset.
I could finally squint my eyes enough to see the heartless joint appearing from a dimly light, spider web covered lamppost. Yet every step closer to the place I called my second home seemed to be a struggle as the crisp cool gusts cut through my woolen sweater. The wind was beginning to pick up through the blackness of the night and I started to hear creaking, most likely from the rusted beams, in the bar. For some reason, chills from my presumably frozen toes, began to slowly creep there way up my spine and straightened my back tighter than a two by four. That feeling was starting to come over me, as if I was walking into a nightmare. I pause at the entrance of the old warped wooden door and took in a refreshingly cool breath of the falls night air, I grasped the cool handle, gave it a firm twist, and just my luck, the bar was still open. The bar was filled with the usual gees. Yet I did not fill any urge to go and say high, I walked slowly to the end of the bar, and took a seat by myself, took out an old crumpled sawbucks and ordered an ice cold, frosted fifth of shine. The bar tender, as if he were in slow motion, grabbed the fifth from a freezer, and handed it to me, along with a friendly looking shot glass. As I braced the shot glass, my life seemed to be so pointless; it was only a matter of time now before I went to the stir for killing Dominic. As I threw down shot after shot, my throat seemed to burn less and less, and before long, the shine was no longer hurting my throat. As I went to pour another shot, I saw that the frosted fifth once consumed by my savoir was bottom dry. The room became to spin violently, and I barely make out the bar tender saying, “Are you alright yegg?” but my mind could not process the words I wanted to say as I slowly fell from my stool. I landed like a two flivver’s head on collision, with my head leading the way. My life seemed to not matter anymore, as I felt my eyes slowly shut, I did not even bother to stop it, it was a fight not worth fighting for. I was a lost cause.
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