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That’s just the Prologue :


The atmosphere was thick, shots were fired and screams were heard, echoing through the hallway with a strong power, I gripped the gun tightly and cursed Yoongi for not telling me his full plan, he always had a way to surprise me, which most of the time wasn’t pleasant.

“They’re running away!” I heard my co-worker shout frustratingly, I turned my head to him and suddenly felt a stinging pain in my right arm, with a rapid breathing I took a glance at it and found it bleeding.

After we caught the gang that caused the whole chaos, the whole team went to the police station, but I changed my direction and went by the very familiar alleyway with my bleeding arm.

“You fucking owe me you piece of shit” I whisper yelled to Yoongi sitting behind me and the fancy looking cafe, this was our usual meeting place after the missions.

“But we caught the suspect. . . And clean that shit, people are glaring” My stupid blonde slid a napkin on the table beside us, I took it and wrapped it around my arm. Yoongi and I aren’t both detectives, he’s a gang leader and I’m a detective, he brings the important information for me and I go with the action.

“Soon we’ll take revenge, don’t worry, as long as we’ll stick together nothing can stop us”


Mine is uh… Incredibly lengthy. I had some serious writer’s block and I think I just wanted to pound out what I could before I got hit with it again. Any feedback is great!

Maybe it was because we were kids. Maybe because it was exciting and fun. Maybe we were just bored. Whatever the reason, when I was thirteen, my friends and I found ourselves in a tiny shop nestled in between much larger buildings. It was out of place, seemed cramped and more than likely would be bought and tore down to fix the aesthetic of the nearby businesses.

But for now, it was a small shop called “Petrovna’s,” which, unsurprisingly, was the name of the psychic that ran it.

Inside smelled of incense sticks. There were at least a dozen salt rock lamps. Strange looking books littered the shelves that lined the walls. I had never been inside a shop owned by a psychic, but I had to say that I was disappointed. It seemed too… Normal. Where were the bones? The obvious witchcraft tools?

Petrovna herself was young, maybe in her early thirties. She was slim, pretty, and had an accent that was pleasing to the ears. The most memorable part of her was the bright, cherry red lipstick she wore. It contrasted well with her dark, chestnut hair.

If she was surprised to see a group of middle schoolers in her shop, she didn’t show it. But, I guess, if she were psychic, she would have seen us coming.

At the time, the group was five of us.

Lauren, the ‘ring leader’ of our group. She and I were friends, but it seemed like she didn’t actually like me too much. Everyone thought I was being paranoid, but something about the way she paid attention to me, like she was waiting for something good enough to genuinely dislike me over.

Cabel, my first boyfriend. He asked me out a week prior to this visit, and we were still in our ‘honeymoon’ phase of dating. Of course, thirteen year olds didn’t really date. It was the though that counted, however.

Rebecca, the quiet, mouse like girl that followed Lauren’s every word and whim as if her life depended on it. She was small, and I think Lauren’s bravado and energy was something she envied.

Todd. There wasn’t much to say about Todd. He was the class clown type, and was just here for Lauren, despite her disinterest in him.

And then there was me.

At the time, moments before we stepped foot in Petrovna’s, I was a regular thirteen year old girl. I had my first boyfriend. I had a group of friends, and I was doing pretty well in life.

However, that all changed shortly after visiting Petrovna’s.

“I guess I’ll go first!” Lauren said proudly. We all knew she was going to go first. That was no surprise. Lauren nestled her way into the chair that was pushed up against a small round table with a pretty silk tablecloth covering it. It was navy blue with stars and moons stitched into it’s fabric. This set up was inching closer to what I imagined a psychic reading to be like.

Petrovna studied Lauren a bit before reaching out with open palms. “Give me your hands.” Lauren wiggled her eyebrows at us, but did as she was told.

The psychic took Lauren’s hands and was quiet for a long time. A little too long, we began to wonder if she’d speak at all. But finally she did, opening her mouth to predict the future of Lauren’s life.

“You’re a leader type,” she began, but that much was obvious. Lauren smirked, a not-so-subtle way of telling us she was right about Petrovna being a fake. Anyone could tell she was the leader type. “But this will get you in trouble later in life.” Lauren’s smirk faded, but Petrovna continued uninterrupted.

“When you think you’ve risen to the top, your biggest competitor will come back with a bang. The things you did to get where you were will come back to haunt you. You may be at the top, but you won’t be for long.”

And with that, Petrovna released Lauren’s hands and gestured for the next kid. It was short, but we really only paid ten dollars so what did we expect? We were kids, we couldn’t afford the fancy stuff. Lauren left the seat with a quizzical face and she was quickly replaced by Rebecca, must to her dismay.

Petrovna didn’t ask for Rebecca’s hands— she just took them. She could tell she was nervous and just took the lead herself. “You’re a very shy girl. You dislike confrontation. But there will come a time when you feel it in your gut to intervene.” Rebecca’s eyes widened as she took in the words Petrovna uttered. “You’ll consider ignoring it. It’d be easier that way. But it won’t be right. I hope you make the right decision.”

So quick Petrovna read off the small cluster of ‘futures’ she saw in each of us. She called each of us out on our personalities, and something that will happen in the future. None of them were necessarily good. It was like she chose a pivotal moment in our lives and offered the way around them.

It was when it was my turn that things took a weird twist.

“Oh.” She mumbled when she took my hands. She looked me dead in the eye for a moment, really gathering her thoughts. “You… You’re cursed.” I blinked. I’m what? “You’re cursed, or, you will be.” She took my hands and flipped them over, studying them hard. “It’s… A boy.” I didn’t see it, but I felt all the eyes in the room glance quickly at Cabel. His own reading said he’d be the initial spark to someone else’s fire, of their downfall. We all wondered now if it’d be mine.

“All the men in your life will be unreliable.” Petrovna continued. “They’ll all let you down. They’ll hurt you in the same way, over and over. But this one will be worse.” I felt a chill, as if the temperature had dropped significantly. “This one will do exactly as he promised. He has his own agenda.”

I couldn’t even focus on Todd’s reading. I don’t even know what she said. I was too focused on my own future. All of the men will fail me? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Cabel tried to comfort me, whispering that he’d never fail me, and definitely wouldn’t be the spark to my turmoil in the future. And of course I knew I shouldn’t believe what a ten dollar reading psychic would tell me.

But the chills in my bones made me think she was right.

As we gathered our things to leave, the fun mood from before when we had first entered the shop, gone. We were all contemplative on our futures. All the negativity she had spoken.

“Little girl,” Petrovna stated, and three of us turned around. Her eyes, however, were on me. “Be wary of your curse.” She muttered, and it seemed as though her eyes had… pity in them? “Because the men in your life may hurt you… But you will hurt them, too.”

It was a lot to think about. I had gotten home that evening and had dinner with my mom. My dad worked late and was rarely around. Maybe she had picked up on this and assumed that meant I felt let down by it? Did I? Did I feel let down that my dad wasn’t around like everyone else’s dad? I just felt it was normal, I never gave it much thought. I didn’t see how I’d go about hurting him though. Surely she was just a kook. A budget psychic that predicts false futures.

I just couldn’t shake the feeling she was right.

And, in the end, I guess she was.

When I came to school the next Monday, the stories of our visit were circulating all over our class. It had even leaked out into other classes. Everyone was talking about our futures. I suspect Lauren had something to do with it, and my suspicions were confirmed at lunch when I walked up to our table and heard her talking.

“… So weird! She was just talking a lot of nonsense. Look, here’s Emery, she’ll tell you. Wasn’t that lady psycho?”

I nodded as I sat down, grabbing my plasticware and busting it from the wrapping. “She said some weird stuff.” I muttered in agreement, but kept my real opinion to myself.

“Totally! She even said Emery would hurt all of the boys in her life.” Lauren scoffed, and I tried not to take offense to it. “Like she even could. Remember when she accidentally tripped Logan in gym and she cried for twenty minutes?” The table laughed, but their laughter faded as I got consumed in my thoughts.

I don’t know why the psychic’s words were haunting me so bad. I just felt like she brought an ominous omen on me. Like she had crafted this future and given it to me herself.

“… 's Cabel?” I heard, and his name made my ears perk up.


“Where’s Cabel? He wasn’t here earlier.” Rebecca asked. I hadn’t even noticed Cabel was gone. I was so caught up in my thoughts I had completely missed my own boyfriend’s absence.

“Maybe Em hurt him with her curse.” Lauren said, wiggling her fingers. The table laughed again and I smiled, but didn’t really get involved in the conversation. They made jokes like this all day, talking about how I was cursed and all the boys would suffer because of me.

But when Cabel didn’t show up the next day either, all the jokes subsided. “Did he call you last night?” Todd asked me, knowing Cabel and I talked regularly.

I shook my head. “I called his house yesterday but no one answered. I left a voicemail saying we missed him and hoped to see him soon.” Everyone nodded at my answer, but we moved on again.

Cabel came back the third day.

All eyes were on him as he walked down the hall into our classroom. Our group was already huddled together around Lauren’s desk, and she was the first to see him.

“Cabel!” She shouted, startling me into turning around.

All of us gasped, almost simultaneously.

Cabel had a bright blue cast on his arm. He had a semi sheepish grin, I guess embarrassed by the attention.

Lauren rushed to his side first, gingerly touching it. “What happened to YOU?” She asked, looking his arm over well. I quickly joined her, and basically the entire rest of the class around him as he spoke.

“I was riding my bike with my brother and a car hit me. It was pretty cool. Hurt real bad but it was still super badass. I felt like I was in an action movie.”

Knowing he was okay eased everyone’s tension.

Except for mine.

I may have just been paranoid, but it felt like Cabel was avoiding me. He’d talk to everyone but never me privately. I’d ask a question and he’d announce his answer out-loud for everyone to hear. Like he was trying to make it seem like it wasn’t just us talking.

My paranoia got the best of me after school and I cornered him alone. “Cabel? Can we talk? Are you okay?”

Cabel shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, Em, I told you. It was just a little accident.”

“I just meant… You don’t seem to want to talk to me. Did I do something?” I asked, my fingers nervously twiddling.

“I don’t know, did you?” He muttered under his breath, but I heard him. My body stiffened and my blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked.

He raked his good hand’s fingers through his hair. “Nothing, never mind, forget it. I gotta go, Em. I’ll talk to you later.”

But he didn’t.

When I got to school the next morning, there was a note in my locker from him.


I want to break up. This isn’t really working out.



I took it pretty hard despite dating for less than a month. It was my first boyfriend and he broke up with me over a note. I went to class hoping to talk to the girls about it, but it seemed Cabel had beaten me to telling them.

When I walked into the classroom, all conversation came to an abrupt halt.

It was silence and stares that greeted me.

“Uh, morning?” I mumbled, feeling very awkward under such scrutiny. No one replied so I just walked to my desk. When I moved, a few whispers broke out. I couldn’t really understand them, but I could tell it was about me. Cabel must have told them he broke up with me. Kids are so annoying with the rumor mill.

I nudged Rebecca’s desk with my foot to get her attention. She sat across from me in the next isle. “Cabel wastes no time telling people how he dumped me, huh?” I asked, trying to stay joking. Rebecca met my eyes briefly but looked away. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried something had happened to her.

She didn’t answer, but Lauren did. “Don’t talk to her,” she stated, standing and walking in front of my desk. Her hands were crossed over her chest. She looked like an angry hall monitor.

“What? Why?” I hadn’t been more confused in my life.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Look what you did to Cabel.” I glanced over at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes either. In fact, no one would. No one but apparently Lauren. “That psychic said you were cursed and you were right. Don’t talk to us again. We don’t want another accident because of you.”

With that, she turned and walked away. I tried several times to talk to them, to talk to anyone. To plea my case or at least get my damn opinion out there. But no one would talk to me. Queen Lauren had spoken. I was cast to the side as a liability.

The days of being ignored and talked about turned into weeks that turned into months. I eventually stopped trying to fix things. It was clear no one wanted to be seen with me, else they’ll face Lauren’s wrath.

I bitterly thought of her reading. Didn’t Petrovna say Lauren would be at the top once her biggest competitor had been taken down? I guess the reading was about me, and I was right about her after all.

We moved up to high school a couple of years later, but nothing had changed. In such a small city, we all knew each other from primary. Everyone in my class had spread the “Emery is cursed” rumor to the other classes and now we all went to high school together. I was still ignored. Even the upperclassmen ignored me, but they generally seemed to ignore the younger students.

The only people that paid attention to me were boys.

At first, I thought my luck was changing. I got called out on my way walking outside to wait for my bus by a boy a year older than me. He explained he saw me in the halls from time to time and wanted to ask me out. I had found it strange that I never saw him, but I was just so excited someone was paying attention to me, I agreed.

It was less than a week later that he came to school with crutches and a sprained ankle. He broke up with me the same day. “Guess the curse was real, huh?” I heard him saying to his friends in the hall as I walked off. I could hear them laugh even as I turned the corner.

The next one didn’t even make it three days before he text me we were through. He caught pneumonia. That was somehow my fault.

Over and over this happened. Random boys would hear about the curse and think it would he fun to see if it was true.

The truth was this: They asked me out to see if I’d be easy and sleep with them. I never did. It took less time each time for them to make up an injury or illness to have a good enough excuse to leave me and further the rumor that Emery was cursed.

I over heard someone talking about it. There were bets going on. I was actively ignored unless some good looking asshole decided he’d be the one to crack me. I don’t know why I agreed every time. I just wanted the reassurance I even existed. I was ignored so often it felt like I was even ignored at home. Even if these guys were just trying to sleep with me for a bet, the attention was so nice it made me think maybe this one will be different.

And every time I was disappointed.

It wasn’t until I met Anthony that the curse really began.


Here’s the first chapter to my book Breaking Eden

Prologue: The Ghost Girl


February 2017 - 11 p.m.

Officer Hamlin

On the night the Ghost Girl appeared, Officer Hamlin couldn’t decide what was worse, the hunger eating away at his stomach, or the migraine pounding away at his temple. His gaze wavered from the rain-soaked highway and drifted, once again, toward the sandwich sitting atop his workbag. His stomach grumbled and as if on queue, he let loose an acid filled belch that seared his throat and brought tears to his sleep-deprived eyes.

He drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel and made up his mind. A hot meal would’ve been ideal, but that wasn’t going to happen. He snagged the sandwich off his bag and struggled with one hand to peel back the foil before taking a massive bite. A glob of mustard oozed out. It dripped down the side of his hand and spattered onto the leg of his black uniform, staining it.

“Goddammit.” He grunted around the mouth full of food and glared at the blob of bright yellow. He swiped a fingertip over the mess and issued another string of curse words when it smeared deeper into the fabric.

With his attention diverted from the road, he hadn’t noticed the changes occurring around him. The rain fell harder, making it harder to see. If Officer Hamlin were paying attention, he would have noticed the movement up ahead on the side of the highway. Something had emerged from the pines. Was staggering toward the road.

Hamlin didn’t know what made him look up at that precise moment, but he did later. As he was retelling his story, he’d chalked it up to pure fate stepping in.

His head shot up from his lap just in time to spot the pale form staggering out of the trees and right into the path of his speeding patrol car. He dropped the sandwich, sending bread and deli meat to his lap and screamed.

“Son of a bitch!” He slammed his foot against the brake and jerked the steering wheel to the side, nearly missing the thing in the road.

Then chaos erupted.

Hamlin’s patrol car skidded over the asphalt. It managed to complete a half circle before slamming against the trees lining the opposite side of the road. The windows on the passenger side shattered on impact. He had just enough time to cover his head as shards of glass pelted over his raised arms.

Then everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Lighting illuminated the darkness. Moments later, thunder cracked overhead, and the clouds opened up. All there was, was the rain and Hamlin’s labored breathing.

The windshield wipers were broken, making it nearly impossible to see anything past the flooded glass. But still, he tried. He squinted into the darkness beyond the window, trying to make sense of the muddled headlights. When nothing could be deciphered, he fell back against his seat in frustration and sighed.

Get a hold of yourself, old man. Your God damn eyes are playing tricks on you. Ain’t nothin’ out there but you and the road. There ain’t nothing to be afraid of. He rubbed his hands over his face. A second, much deeper sigh slipped past his lips when he added. And whatever the hell that thing was.

A flash of white skin and dark hair dashed briefly through the beams of light. This time he did see it, he saw all of it and screamed like a little boy. The high-pitched cry echoed around him, “Oh dear God! What the fuck is going on?”

Officer Hamlin withdrew his gun with shaking hands and squinted out into the darkness, waiting for the thing to return. He was almost daring it to because this time he was ready to face whatever it was.

But nothing came.

There was only rainfall, the car, and a terrified old man who was one year away from retiring unless he dropped dead of a heart attack tonight. He scanned the road with narrowed eyes then turned toward the gaping passenger windows. His left shoulder ached and his chest felt tighter than normal.

All clear. Hamlin reached out, fumbling blindly for the handset radio, and brought it to his mouth.

“This is Officer Hamlin.” He licked his lips nervously and glanced around again. “I got a bit of a situation here.” He considered requesting a new pair of pants as well since he’d just about shit himself but released the button before he could commit this act of embarrassment.

There was a long stretch of static before a husky, smokers voice filled the car, “Hit another deer, Hamlin?” The woman drew out his name before laughing.

“No Doris, I didn’t hit another deer .” He mimicked her thick Boston accent almost perfectly sans the smokers voice.

“Ya got to work on theme sounds a little more, Asshole,” She rebuffed instantly then added, “What’s ya position? I’ll see if we can get someone out to collect ya.”

“I’m on the corner of who gives a shit, and I don’t fuckin’ know.” He tried to recall the last sign he passed on the highway but for the life of him he couldn’t.

“Ya kiss your wife with that filthy mouth?”

“I’d kiss her every God damn night again if I could. God rest her soul.”

“Awe, Christ Hamlin.” A momentary silence settled between the two. “How long?” For a second Hamlin could hear the sympathy coloring her tone.

Hamlin cleared his throat before pressing the button to speak, “Been almost a year now.”

In four days, at precisely 6:34 am, it’d be one full year since she left me. And no, the pain never stops. It’s there when I wake up, and there I go to bed. He wanted to add but held that bit of information back.

In the end, Hamlin’s wife was bed bound and delirious, pumped full of enough drugs to kill a horse, yet barely enough to ease her pain during those final days. Cancer was a bitch like that. It eroded flesh and bone, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake. It knew nothing of race or gender because, to it, everyone was enough.

“Are ya still there Hamlin?”

He quickly dragged the back of an old, sun-spotted hand across his cheeks to dry them and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m here. Anyway, I’m a little outside of Cadence, I think. Maybe ten miles out.”

“So what’d you hit?”

“Somethin’ came outta the trees but I don’t think I hit it.”

“Well that’s a first.”

“I swerved to miss it, but I must have hit an oil patch because I skidded into-”

There was movement on his left as something slammed against his door, rocking the car against the trees. That hideous high-pitched noise filled the air again and this time Hamlin knew it was coming from him.

“Holy shit!” He shrieked, and this time he did piss himself. A hot circle of urine spread out on the front of his pants.

“Hamlin! What happened? What’s the matta?” Doris’s voice hardened, becoming serious. “You answer me, God dammit!”

Officer Hamlin’s eyes widened. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Struggling, he pulled the radio to his mouth. “Doris. I’m gonna need an ambulance.” He rubbed at his tightening chest, “Make that two. I think I’m having a heart attack.” The radio slipped from his fingers and fell against his thigh, and he struggled to breathe through the pain.

The pale form that had come from the trees had returned for him. He knew what it was now. It was a woman, a naked one at that, with feral eyes that burned into his, and matted, rain-soaked hair. Her dirty hands were frozen into half curled claws which now pounded and clawed against the glass in rapid, but weakening blows.

She fought to open her mouth. Her quivering lips were trying to form words, “H…he…lp…p…p”

And for the first time in Officer Hamlin’s career, he didn’t know what to do.


Here is the prologue from my story: A Lonesome Night

Prologue: The Beginning Of A Gruesome Tale

Never could I have imagined in my worst nightmares the morbid tragedy staring me in the face. Everything in my life was turned upside down and inside out in no less than an instant. All I knew, fantasized and hoped, ceased to exist in that moment. Of all people it happened to me like an unjustified wrath brought down by an angry God.

I am kneeling on the cold, wet, and dimly lit alley ground. The foul air is entering and exiting my lungs in panicked breaths and I see them in front of me. The stench is so disgusting that my eyes do not cease watering. My thighs are wet with an unpleasant fluid that continues to slide down my legs. With the combination of my perspiration and bile near me it gives the air a toxic taste. Before me a pool of scarlet liquid makes small repeated splashes as rain drops hit it relentlessly. Wretched sobs and hyperventilating gulps for air are the only audible sounds in the downpour. The painful aching of my knees and my scratching throat are unbearable. I am like a dear in headlights, desperate to get up and escape but my body refuses to move.

Suddenly the horrifying scene in front of me is blocked. My eyes are trained on a pair of polished black leather dress shoes and dress pants of the same color. My heart is hammering so forcefully against my chest it feels like my rib-cage will not be able to contain it. I sluggishly incline my head upwards in a search for the attacker’s face. A young countenance that could not belong to anyone older that twenty-five meets my gaze. His devilishly handsome features are twisted in terrifying smile. My consciousness momentarily weakens as his thin lips part and a maniacal laugh escapes him, causing my intense shudders to gain force.

“No matter how many times I do this I never grow tired of it,” he whispers in my right ear.

His voice is so full of malice I could drown in it. I see his predatory smile still marring his features in my peripheral vision.

“I wonder, how should I decorate that beautiful body of yours?”, he inquires in a listless manner.

He starts humming a tuneless melody that I cannot place as he straightens himself to look down at me. His left hand moves up to touch his chin in a contemplating gesture, leaving a streak of bright crimson on pale skin. I feel like a scrutinized bug under his stare. Suddenly his thoughtful visage lights up. “Aha!”, he exclaims excitedly. He brings his hands together in an endearing way, tilts his head to the right, closes his eyes, and emits a closed lipped moan of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes! What a wonderful idea indeed,” he singsongs.

He reaches inside his dark brown trench coat and extracts a transparent box containing nails. Black leather gloves, glistening with blood, click the box open. His facial expression morphs into a childish smile. He sets the container down, takes out one nail and picks up the previously utilized claw-hammer off the stone paved ground.

“D… de… demon…” I manage to choke out of my parched throat.

His grin widens further, exposing his straight white teeth.

“Well then, let’s get started shall we?”


i feel like its a bit weird to post a full chapter here: so here’s the link to chapter one of my new (rewritten) book.It’s in the mystery genre but the mystery doesnt happen straight away :stuck_out_tongue:


Boudha, Nepal, December 29th,

“May I enter?” says Neema calmly while opening the door to the hiring room. She had an interview with GCell, one of the leading mobile network operator in Nepal.

“Yes, you may.” “Close the door behind you.”

A bulky man with a stomach that looked no less than a football, no beard, only a grey line on his cheek means he shaved this morning.

“Thank You for coming today, Why don’t you sit down and tell us more about yourself.”

“Namaste, my name is Neema Pasang Lama. I am a graduate of Silver Gate International College with a degree in Information Technology. My residence lies within a kilometer from the office, so you can count on me to be punctual and efficient.”

“Way to introduce yourself.” the bulky man says with a smile on his face that only said, “Now that’s a wild figure.”

“Unlike you, she did quite well don’t you think, Rajesh?” A calm voice came from beside the manager. “I am the head manager for this branch, Kaushal, and Rajesh, here is the Human Resource Manager.”

“If you get employed here, he will be the one that oversees your work.”

Kaushal takes a look at the screen of his laptop then at Neema. He scans through Neema’s portfolio and whispers some words on Rajesh’s ears.

“Is she the one you told me about?”


“Let’s talk about her later. For now, send her away.”

“Miss Neema, Thank you so much for coming today. We will soon contact you and tell you the decision.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. I hope you select me, I will be an asset for your branch,” says Neema as she greets the men goodbye as she walks out the door.

Boudha, Nepal, The Next Cafe,

“The interview went so horrible, Priya. I can’t begin to explain. They asked me nothing. Nothing about my qualifications, my career, even why I deserve the job. Nothing.” Neema says with discontent.

“Don’t worry, it has only been a few hours since the interview,” says Priya, a young brunette with no sophisticated thought in her mind. “You will get the answer tomorrow. Anyway, your father’s friend is the HR manager, isn’t he? He will make sure you get the job.”

“I hope so. I intend to call him after he’s off from work.”

“Okay. Call him and tell him you’d do anything for this job. ANYTHING. He will get you the job ASAP.”

“Don’t spout shit out loud, Priya.”

“That will get you the job for sure. I promise. I know I’d do it if I had an opportunity for a job that pays 100,000 rupees a month.”

“Sorry, Priya but I am not like you who spreads her legs every chance she gets.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Accept it,” says Neema with a grin on her face.

“What about you, I haven’t seen you with a single man. Are you gay?” says Priya with a sulky face.

“No, I am not gay. It’s just that I haven’t found someone I like yet. It’s hard to find a man who’s not interested in my body.”

“You won’t find a man that way. Because that’s what every man wants.”

“If you keep this up, you might end up single for the rest of your life.”

“I won’t. I think it’s better if I end up single for the rest of my life than be with someone who only longs for my body.”

“Wise words woman, preach it. Anyway, Barun and others are inviting us to a party. Wanna hang out? Who knows you might find your prince charming there.”

“In a place for womanizers, no way,” says Neema with a sigh. “You can go hang out with them. I will head home. But be there before 11 or don’t bother coming.”

As Priya walks out of the cafe waving hands. “Maybe he’s out of the office by now.” Neema says to herself.


I like this a lot though I think some sentences can flow a bit better like when you are describing Rajesh, maybe you could say “only a grey line on his cheek which meant he had shaved this morning,” or something like that. Other than that, good job.

Here’s my first chapter from my story Prints:

Remembering things had always been a hassle for me but what surprised me was how I couldn’t remember how I had gotten put into the Jaren Detention Center. A prison, in Langley California, where only the top, most wanted fugitives go.

I stared blankly at the steel wall of the prison, and at my iron shackles, that were too small for my wrist. What the…? I ran to the cell door and started banging on it as hard as I possibly could. My black hair was wildly slashing through the air.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” I screamed then waited for a response, but all I had gotten was a few grumbles and an, extremely rude, “Shut up!” from neighboring detainees. I sighed, then closed my eyes, my body slumping down to the icy, damp floor below me.

Yesterday I was attending Polar High school. I was in the running for prom queen, had exceptional grades, and an outstanding boyfriend, well boy, friend, but the point is my life was perfect. Then I got thrown in here, and since that nobody came to visit me, my life was over, exterminated, eradicated.

While wallowing in my self-pity, I heard footsteps coming towards my cell’s door, and I automatically perked up, they’re coming to take me out, I thought positively for the first time in the eight hours I had been in here. You see it all made sense, I’ve seen it all before, where the police captured the wrong guy and then finds out and release all charges. That what must’ve happened to me, I’ve always been a good girl, teacher’s pet, the MUP, most used person, it’s crazy for me to be in jail, absolutely insane.

I waited anxiously, and with a smile on my face, for the guard to show up, and soon enough, a brooding man with a large mustache stood before me.

“Get up,” he commanded. The sharpness of his voice made me frown faster than lightning strikes. I reluctantly got up, and he opened the cell door. “Come,” he ordered. Silently and quickly I followed him out my cell down through the dark narrow halls of the prison, passing scowling tigers in their cages along the way.

The guard led me into an interrogation room and sat me down in a swivel chair that I spun in while he grabbed files from a nearby filing cabinet. He then sat down and folded his hands. He meant business.

“Story short,”

Here it was, the thing I had been waiting for, he going say he made a mistake and -

“We are moving you into the homicide section.”

My mouth dropped in bewilderment when he said does words, it was as though my whole world had been kicked right in the arse. Wide eye and in shock, I said in a low trembling voice.

"What in the hell did I do?"


Here’s the opening to my book Breaking Eden which has reached over 77K reads!

On the night the Ghost Girl appeared, Officer Hamlin couldn’t decide what was worse, the hunger eating away at his stomach, or the migraine pounding away at his temple. His gaze wavered from the rain-soaked highway and drifted, once again, toward the sandwich sitting atop his workbag. His stomach grumbled and as if on queue, he let loose an acid filled belch that seared his throat and brought tears to his sleep-deprived eyes.

He drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel and made up his mind. A hot meal would’ve been ideal, but that wasn’t going to happen. He snagged the sandwich off his bag and struggled with one hand to peel back the foil before taking a massive bite. A glob of mustard oozed out. It dripped down the side of his hand and spattered onto the leg of his black uniform, staining it.

“Goddammit.” He grunted around the mouth full of food and glared at the blob of bright yellow. He swiped a fingertip over the mess and issued another string of curse words when it smeared deeper into the fabric.

With his attention diverted from the road, he hadn’t noticed the changes occurring around him. The rain fell harder, making it harder to see. If Officer Hamlin were paying attention, he would have noticed the movement up ahead on the side of the highway. Something had emerged from the pines. Was staggering toward the road.

Hamlin didn’t know what made him look up at that precise moment, but he did later. As he was retelling his story, he’d chalked it up to pure fate stepping in.

His head shot up from his lap just in time to spot the pale form staggering out of the trees and right into the path of his speeding patrol car. He dropped the sandwich, sending bread and deli meat to his lap and screamed.

“Son of a bitch!” He slammed his foot against the brake and jerked the steering wheel to the side, nearly missing the thing in the road.

Then chaos erupted.


How long we talking exactly? Mine’s just under 9000 words.

If anyone’s willing I’ll have to post a link


I’d say post a link. If someone’s interested, they’ll give it a click.


Sure, thanks, i wasn’t sure what exactly to do


So, do we post it here or give a link?


Hello there. Unfortunately, posting links is not allowed here on Wattpad as it is considered as a form of advertisement. It’s preferable to post the entire Chapter here.

Community Ambassador
Fear Huntress


Hello! :smile:

Alas, I’m going to have to remove your comment. Asking people read your story, and/or providing a link, is considered self-advertising and is against Club Guidelines

If you would like feed back on your story, feel free to have a look at the Story Services club :smile:

You can also share your story in the Share a Story Club :smile:

Thank you for understanding!

Community Ambassador


Hello! :smile:

Alas, I’m going to have to remove your comment. Asking people read your story, and/or providing a link, is considered self-advertising and is against Club Guidelines

If you would like feed back on your story, feel free to have a look at the Story Services club :smile:

You can also share your story in the Share a Story Club :smile:

Thank you for understanding!

Community Ambassador


Posting a link to your story would be considered as self-advertising. Hence, it could be better to post the entire chapter here. Hope that clears things up for everyone. :slightly_smiling_face:


here’s my first chapter, it’s a mystery story where things go missing

Mia Wilson

“They really came, this time” I whispered to myself as a small smile beamed across my face, I kept sneaking as quite as possible between the bushes, I couldn’t see anything around except for the flashes they carried, that light was enough for me to see them, after months of playing detective, I saw them with my own eyes, everything we have done for the past months have went in vain that what we have all believed yesterday, but right now in this moment, I know for sure that we were wrong about that.

I was dragging my bag across the airport when my phone buzzed in my pocket pulling me out of my thoughts, I sighed; it’s always troubling to get it out while carrying my luggage, I never thought that the airport would be this familiar to me. My parents live abroad but I go to college here. I managed to pull my phone out without causing a mess, well it’s always on my new year’s resolutions to become a minimalist, living by a backpack or well at least a carry-on bag, I looked at my three bags and rolled my eyes, I couldn’t help but to smile when I saw the caller’s name.

“Diana, please tell me you are already here” I said unable to hide my excitement, how can I do that? My best friend has offered to come and welcome me in the airport, it’s a sad thing that doesn’t happen often, it has always felt so lonely when I came back here struggling with all this luggage, remind me to put more effort in becoming a minimalist, well of course that’s not the only reason why I am excited I really miss her but yeah the luggage, help please!

“Yes I am already here, guess what I came by a car!”

“Wait what! Did you buy a car?”

“Well I wish I can say yes to that, but let’s hope for the future, anyway where you are? Oh okay I can see you” then she hanged up not giving me a chance to say anything, there’s a thing about people in my life doing this to me and a lot! I started to look around trying to search for her.

“MIA! MIA!” I hear someone shouting, I really did miss her so much, Diana was my best friend since middle school, it was heartbreaking when my family moved out of the country because of work, I didn’t know back then that I will end up going to the same college and the same department with her. Do things like this even happen? This will be our third year already at college.

“Look at you! Every time you come your luggage doubles” Diana commented showing a disappointed face

“But I have you here this time” I smirked

We went out of the airport, I followed Diana towards a red car, it looked fancy I thought she was just joking about the car part, I tried to take a peak to see this mysterious person. A tall boy with blond hair came out of the car, I don’t recall seeing him before, I know all Diana’s friends. He smiled and shook my hand “Diana kept talking about you the whole break, Mia this Mia that, I am Noah Stewart” I smiled back.

We kept babbling about a lot of things on the way to the dorm, it’s the first time I meet Noah but he is really outgoing, Diana met him at a tennis club during the break, she’s really passionate about tennis, We all kept laughing as Noah told us about funny stories from the club, that I didn’t pay attention to the unfamiliar road that we were now taking.

“Where are we going?”

“hoomee” Diana said, then she added “I can’t believe you forgot about that, I already found the apartment, I really wanted us to look for one together but you said you are okay with that”

“Really?! Our apartment?!” I said in disbelieve , now that it’s our third year, we have had enough with living in-campus, so we decided that we will rent an apartment together, I already forgot about that with all the fuss about the new semester, Diana fumbled with her bag getting out a pair of keys and handed them to me.

It’s a small studio apartment, I jumped right into the cozy sofa in the living room, we kept talking without realizing that it’s already midnight, Noah has already left, I went to my new room and started to take my clothes out, the cabinets are of course bigger than those in the dorm, I smiled looking at my mountain of luggage.

It’s not Diana and Mia if we are not late on the first day, we rushed to the bus station while I kept checking the time. The campus is one stop away from here.

“Diana, I think we have already consumed all our luck in getting the perfect apartment, seriously one stop away” we laughed.

“We had one lecture today and I think that we missed the half of the lecture” Diana said sighing

“Well and that half was so boring” I said while we were walking though the campus finally, I can already smell it, the smell of the new semester, I wonder if it’s just me but there’s always a special smell about the beginning of the semester.

“Since we are already here and missed our one and only lecture, there’s an art gallery in the fine arts department, Noah told me about it, do you want to go?” Diana asked me, The fine arts department is really close to our department, we went there through the crowd, there were many beautiful paintings in the outside courtyard, I am not really into art but I enjoy going to art galleries, I just don’t understand the deep meanings behind them. We kept looking at the student’s works, “Why didn’t I go to the arts department?” I said without realizing “You? Mia Wilson? Are you kidding?” Diana told me laughing; I sighed and laughed with her.

Somehow I ended up getting lost from Diana because of the crowd. I sighed and kept walking around, “It seems that there’s a gallery inside the building as well” I thought to myself and it’s not crowded inside, I skimmed with my eyes there are few people here so weird, it’s comfortable this way, I hate crowds.

I kept walking around amazed by everything, without realizing I walked through a corridor with paintings on each side, they were even more fascinating than the ones I saw so far, at the end there was this breathtaking painting, it was a big one, it was as if the colors has exploded “It’s really refreshing” I said and pulled out my phone taking a picture

“Hey! What are you doing here?” a voice interrupted me coming from behind

“I am sorry, I didn’t know that we are not allowed to take pictures” I said while hiding my phone

It was a tall boy with fluffy brown hair, he laughed revealing his dimples and then adjusted his glasses and said “No, it’s just that the indoor gallery will open tomorrow for people to see” I made a stupid face without realizing feeling so stupid because now I understand why there were only few people inside I took a brief look and they were all wearing the same uniform they are the event organizers! I wonder why no one noticed me I felt so embarrassed.

“Hey it’s okay! You are making such a weird expression” he said laughing again, I made a sad face and said “You are not helping me laughing like this”

“Sorry, sorry, well why don’t you help me a bit while you are here” he pointed at the painting, the one that’s full of colors “The boarder is damaged a bit, I thought it’s better if I fix it before tomorrow”

“This is your painting?” I said amazed by this, he nodded “It’s really refreshing” he smiled at my comment, we carried the painting to the storage, it was really big, we then chatted a bit, his name is Joe Evans, he is in fourth year, we said goodbye and he invited me to come tomorrow, they will have more activities.

The next morning we didn’t have any lectures, the first week is always like that, yet we managed to miss the only lecture where the professor came, I was planning to go to the campus later to see the art gallery, I was scrolling through my phone when I heard Diana screaming loudly in the phone, I went to check her.


“Wait Noah don’t hang up! Mia this is crazy you know about the art gallery we went to yesterday! All the paintings are missing!”

I gasped thinking about Joe’s painting


here’s my first chapter, it’s a mix between a detective story and a fantasy story but i personally think of it more as a detective story in a fantasy setting, hope you’ll like it

Bickery Shmoofhead became a private investigator not because he was extraordinary smart, nor because he was extraordinary quick. No. As a matter of fact he was quite the opposite of all of the above: his cognitive skills were slightly below the average; his ability to intimidate interrogated suspects was pretty much non-existent; he was obviously unfit to handle mentally some of the more disturbing regions of the job. He was innocent. He trusted people, which is the most terrible thing an investigator can be. His colleagues said he was like a goat deposited with the great responsibility of guarding a pasture from a band of hungry wolves. Not only that, they went on, compared to him, the wolves were practically geniuses. That much was true. The criminal masters of the kingdom of Bumbelltome were incredibly good at what they were doing. They knew all the nasty little secrets of the job which made all the difference in the world. So why did Bickery chose to become a private investigator? This was a a question he did not bother to attempt answering. That was what he was and that’s it.

Our story begins one Thursdays’s evening, Bickery sitting patiently in his office/apartment in his work chair. Bickery, as a pedant, always kept two chairs in his home: a work chair and a leisure chair. “And you can’t sit on a leisure chair during work lest your work might become your leisure, nor can you sit on a work chair during your leisure lest your leisure might become your work,” was one of his iron rules. The work chair was therefore required to be a representative chair, meaning that it had to be both expensive and impressive. So it came to be that Bickery had spent half of his share of his mother’s will on a porcelain white armchair, high enough for Bickery’s feet to hover in midair while he’s sitting in it and indulging himself in the benefits of great chair design. The seat, back and arms were cushioned with golden velvet, soft as if it were a liquid, and as if that wasn’t enough for Bickery, they were also carved and sculptured with tremendous amount of attention to the little details by a well-paid niche sculptor who owned a small boutique workshop near the King’s Square. The decorations were supposed to represent the dethroning of Scrolinio The Terrible. Bickery never made the connection. He did, however, spotted some returning motifs. For example, the delicate, low flat arcs which streamed like waves from the top of the armchair to its very legs, as if they were created with long, precise brush strokes. But then again all high-brow designers carve arcs onto everything they create. The desk which stood in front of him was quite expensive on its own, covering the other half of the will.

The unimpressive, ugly leisure chair was hidden in the kitchen lest some wandering customer might mistakenly venture into the investigations office. That was not likely. After all, his apartment was ten floors up high in an apartments castle, which was located in a quiet neighborhood downtown. The fact that the sign “Bickery Shmoofhead - A Top-Notch Private Investigator” was placed on the tenth floor’s lobby and not on the ground (due to city’s restrictions) did not help either. Nor did the fact that a couple of years back Bickery had found himself involved with a sketchy case, his only case ever and ever since, which went infamously known for how awfully Bickery had operated in action. Bickery was not discouraged by that. “Sit patiently and eventually the customers will come,” was another one of his iron rules. He followed this rule for ten years, and nothing. Yet he kept following it, every day. With the exact same passion he’s sat on his chair for ten hours a day, receiving customers, which were none, and investigating crimes, which were a shit ton of, but unfortunately enough, were not for him to investigate. He will be a private investigator, he’d decided long ago, for no apparent reason, no matter what. This, he concluded, was the “no matter what” section.

It was almost closing hour. At 20:00 o’clock he’s going to stand up, stride proudly to his leisure chair in the kitchen and call it a day. After dinner he’ll brush his teeth and go to sleep like every good boy does. When he’ll wake up he will brush his teeth, grab a little something to eat and start a new exciting day full of thrilling crime-solving. But listen very carefully now - ta-da-duhm, a lady walked into the room, a full-fledged lady, never even knocked on the cheap wood door as if she’d known it is always open no matter what - another one of Bickery’s notorious rules (well, it will become notorious as the events unfold). She held herself in a self-respected manner, it was a mild trait of her, so mild Bickery was surprised by the fact he’d actually caught it. The lady, you see, had mastered the very fine and delicate art of being dominant and important while not coming off as arrogant or supercilious. It was one of the core pillars of being attractive, and goddamn, weren’t she attractive, so attractive Bickery had to overcome a very strong primitive urge coming from the very cortex of his brain, it’s a sort of a beastly reflex, to whistle out loud as she teetered (the question whether it was a conscious teetering or rather an unconscious one remains unknown to this day) her curvy thighs from side to side as she strolled past the door and to Bickery’s desk. She was a redhead, with cute little orange freckles all over her face, not that it was enough for her high standards, absolutely not, she also had to have emerald green pupils, the bright hue of green which is only more beautiful in the way dark shades are wove seamlessly into it. The pair of eyes sucked Bickery into this shimmering green rabbit hole and he felt like he’s going to crash mercilessly into the ground in its end. He gulped. She wore (how couldn’t she, really) a flowing red dress meant to bring out the best of her. The dress fulfilled its purpose incredibly well. She was, truly and profoundly, beautiful. “Hello mister,” she uttered slowly, eyes flaring, “my name is Cindra.”

Bickery blinked, then he blinked again, then went on into a long chain of blinking. Then, once he was finished, while still being completely awe-struck, he gathered his courage and decided to tackle the big question straight away. “Hello.” Then silence. Then speech. “Are you a customer?”

With this question out in the open, a very sophisticated mechanism took control over the lady’s behavior (also it’s worth noting this mechanism is 100% percentage deliberated, which doesn’t necessarily indicates that it’s fake, but rather indicates it might as well be.) The mechanism is a complex psychological structure composed of many intricate layers, each one of them operates directly on another part of the target’s brain, with a clear purpose in mind: to succumb the target’s mental defenses.

The mechanism, by the way, is called: “The Lighthearted Laugh.”

“Of course I am, silly.” She managed between charming giggles.

At this point Bickery wasn’t entirely sure what to do. How do you approach a customer - and a hell of a one, to - after ten years of having none - well, except of the one customer, that one bloody customer… Rules, rules, rules, that was what his father used to say, that was what his father’s father used to say. Rules make one’s life better because they are gray and unambiguous, which is a lot easier to deal with than with the rainbow-colored multi-meaning frightening universe. The Smoofheads, as you’ll grow to understand, were kind of a clan in Bumbelltome. Not a respected clan, nor a well known one, but a clan, and one thing clans tend to have is, they tend to have properties. One thing the Smoofheads were is they were out of their minds. Each one of them, in his turn, went crazy for a random ridiculous higher meaning and devoted his entire life to it, now if you ask me it begins to sound familiar. In addition, they also tended to miss the entire point of what they were devoting themselves to, which caused them to fail. Which caused them to be really, really bitter.

“Well,” Bickery, suddenly realizing he needs to act in accordance to the situation, tried to muster a tough nonchalant voice. Tried is the keyword. “I was just about to close the office for today, unfortunately enough. Work hours, you see, are from 10 AM to 8 PM.” Again, out of their fucking minds. But then again, rule is a rule and therefore must be respected.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She suddenly burst into tears, only without actually bursting into tears. This is a tricky thing to do, yet she managed it pretty well. “You see, I’m in great danger, really great one, and I need someone, you in fact, I need you, to help me.” All through her little speech, Bickery couldn’t help noticing how glowing her eyes were. The pair was, but not actually, turbulent. As if she really was in great danger. Bickery actually believed her. Incredible.

“Do not worry, miss, we can start off first thing in the morning tomorrow. Assuming you’re not in any immediate danger, that is?” He asked, very miserably it is important to note, but she was already shining bright like the sun, her tinkling eyes sucking him with their sheer happiness, as if him agreeing to help her was the best thing ever happened, and Bickery, the so-inexperienced Bickery, indulged himself in believing every little tinkle.


I adore this! Can’t wait to share and read! Here is my prologue for my Alice in Wonderland modern mafia mystery. May share the real first chapter later on since its pretty large :joy:


:diamonds: ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ :diamonds:
ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ

“ᴀʟɪᴄᴇ ɪs ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

The words fell from the young man’s lips like a filthy secret, poisoning its victims with an incurable intrigue, followed by a silence so sinful, it deserved its own place in Hell.

No one spoke,

No one moved,

No one breathed.

Men with their fat faces still buried in a woman’s breasts were frozen like a dirty masterpiece, others sipping gin, cigars on stained lips, the sole echo of a slot machine clicking away as the casino floor fell ill with death. Had their queen still been alive she would have relished in their fear and uncertainty.

Because in that moment, the silence was a lie.

As the bastards of beggars and thieves pretended to mourn, frozen in loss and despair, in their empty skulls they were guzzling down cheap wine and fucking like the end of days.

After all, a death in the family was always a cause for celebration. And Alice’s death meant that they’d spend every last dime on women and drink.

Yet, as the undisturbed illusion of mortality carried itself weightless through the sticky red carpets and air thick with smoke, because there was still fear, so much fear.

A terror that quickened pulses and left hairs standing on end, that maybe, just maybe, their queen was still alive.

It seemed like a fantasy, like a wish upon a sinister star. No one had ever laid a finger on Alice, and now, the bitch was dead. The chilling depths of the marina lapping up her still warm flesh, ripping away her blood tainted lipstick and tearing at her sapphire gown; the same darkened shade as the ocean in which she’d been cast.

Among the mass of criminals, liars and thieves a coward flinched, a man by the name of Jonny Gallo who’d be dead by morning, spoke up from the hush, stuttering as a painted lady next to him sucked on maraschino cherries.

“H-how dead is she?” He asked, words spoken by a man afraid of his own shadow and yet he looked down a sea of gangsters and crooked fiends.

In any other case an inquiry of the sort would have set all eyes on the impure man, as his friends and brothers lit him up in a haze of silver bullets, forty rounds in his chest, a bashed in skull and missing fingertips, and yet, they all wanted to know.

They needed to know how it happened and who was lucky enough to have pushed her down the rabbit hole.

They wouldn’t miss her, no one would ever miss her, but they couldn’t pop the corks and drink till daybreak unless they knew she was truly bloodied and gone.

One more stillness overtook them all, as the young man with two messages to deliver that day stuttered out what everyone had been aching to hear.

“The White Rabbit spoke,” the messenger hushed, “and off with her head”.


Hello everyone! I’m new to Wattpad. My name is Jeremy Scharmann. Check out my first chapter!
Nigel Nelson and the Artist

Chapter 1
It was the beginning of the week. It began as every Monday did. I lay in bed, warm and cozy, my body unwilling to awaken. I had opened my sleep crusted eyes up before my alarm went off. The sun shone through my window blinds. My clock had a big 6:59 flashing in the green numbers.
It had been three years since my fiancé had gone missing. I missed her every day. I had never lost hope, but I had to move on, or so my mentor had said. My psychological mind had never been the same since I had shot a man while on the Scotland Yard Police force. I had been shot and was near death.
My body was stiff. I rolled out of bed popping my back before doing my morning routine. My coffee maker had already brewed. I had finished my shower when I began smelling fresh coffee. I dressed for my day in my brown slacks, Champaign shirt half rolled sleeves, with a brown vest over top. I kept a pen and pad of paper in my vest pocket. I normally put a trench coat on over that if it was cold. The city of Linbridge was always cool due to it being right on the ocean. The final accessory that made myself complete was a brown derby on my head.
My name as you might have guessed is Nigel Nelson. I am English with soft blue eyes, a bigger than
average nose, and brown hair. I am a Private Investigator for the Linbridge Police Department. I sat down to my cup of coffee and read the newspaper. I saw a title, “Woman Victim to Attacker.” I was most likely going to be called onto the case. Just then my cell phone rang. It was Captain John Hilt calling me.
“Hello?” I said.
“Nelson, did you see the paper?”
“I sure did, an attempted murder?”
“We think so, forensics is doing a thorough search for blood or DNA. The victim, Jane Plenty, was the victim of a supposed, ‘Murder’ attack on her life.”
“It sounds pretty serious,” I said reading the background of the story.
“Come as soon as you can. It is on North Booker Street.”
“I will grab a cup of coffee and be right there,” I said sipping my coffee.
“See you in a few.”
I hung up the phone, and I instantly thought about a case I had worked on when I was with Scotland Yard. The case was about a person with the last name of Plenty. It couldn’t be of relation to this person? We were in a large city in California…Linbridge…on the coast. My partner, Hammond Royale, an African American buddy of mine since five years ago when I arrived to take up the role of investigator, would be glad to hear that we had a case.
He was my friend, someone that I talked to about the deepest thoughts I had, and he was someone that kept my head straight after the tragic shooting. I gathered my coat and headed out the front door of my city apartment. I got in my car, an elite, royal purple, Chevy Nova 1972, big block, raked, with a cam. It wasn’t exactly an investigator’s car, but it was my fiancé’s car, and her father wanted me to have it.
I fired up the fine running machine. Backing out of my driveway, I putted through the few cars making my way to North Booker Street. There was a woman sitting on the back of an ambulance with a sling on her right arm, and cuts down the other one. She had bruises on her face. She looked traumatized. I saw that she had a broken collar bone, possibly a broken jaw bone, and cuts up and down her arm. Hammond greeted me with our normal hand shake.
“Captain…Hammond…David, what happened here?” I asked, greeting and asking at the same time.
“I told you about Jane Plenty. As you can see, she is beat up pretty badly,” said the Captain.
“She was beaten on her face, her collar bone is broken, and her arm was sliced six times,” said Lieutenant David Bend.
“Did you see the article in the newspaper?” asked Hammond.
“Yeah…funny you should ask. I remember from an old case back when I was in Scotland Yard…the name Plenty was in that case. I thought maybe…” I hesitated.
“That’s a great place to start,” said the Captain. “David, run information on that Plenty from the case Nigel was a part of in Scotland Yard.”
“I’m on it.”
“Shouldn’t we go into the apartment and take a look around?” I asked standing in awkward silence for a moment.
“Nigel, it’s clean…it is cleaner than clean,” said David as he was walking away.
“Yes, as David said, it is clean,” said the Captain.
“There has to be something, no fingerprints, nothing?” I asked.
“There is nothing.” said the Captain.
“All we have to go on is talking to her, and something Nigel remembers from a past case?” asked Hammond a little bit flustered.
“I’m sorry, but it looks like he might get away clean,” said Captain John.
I walked over and began talking to Mrs. Plenty, “Hello ma’am, how are we feel…”
“…like I was almost murdered,” said Mrs. Plenty, interrupting me. I knew at that moment that she was either terrified still or that she was lying, because I could not catch her gaze. “He is a snake! Find my husband! Protect me from getting killed!”
“There is nothing you can tell me about your husband?” I asked.
“I can’t remember. All I remember is painful pounding and then black. I do remember one thing though. I remember he was talking about an art showing that he was looking into attending. He didn’t say when or where. The show is Linbridge Fine Arts Gallery,” she seemed to say in but one breath.
“Thank you, you were most helpful,” I said. I began walking toward the car as Hammond followed.
“Where are we going?” asked the Captain. To the gallery, that is where he will most likely be," I said closing my car door. We began driving to the gallery.
“Are we really going to the gallery?” asked Hammond.
“Yes, we are really going to the gallery,” I said.
“You don’t seem like you are yourself today.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean that you seem to be working hastily as opposed to more relaxed and poised.”
“I am working quickly to find the loser who supposedly beat up a woman. There isn’t time to be relaxed and poised.”
“Really? As I recall, you always have time.”
“Hammond, I guess that this case is hitting close to home for me. I lost my fiancé a few years ago today, and I shot a man in self defense that I do not take pride in doing. I realize that being a friend to the guy that you work with is hard, because you see every aspect of my life. You get to see what others don’t. I’m sorry if I’m not myself, but I can’t afford to lose another one.”
“Relax, and breathe; then you will be able to find the perpetrator easier.”
“I will try, but it won’t be easy.”
We got out of the car at the gallery. I looked around and saw a man with sunglasses on standing next to a piece of art work. He seemed to be sincere, but somewhat shady. His art was a fake but no one knew. I saw another artist, a woman, and she was standing next to her painting that she painted. It was an almost exact duplicate of a famous painting that did dishonor to the original. I saw a third man that had a most beautiful painting. He was signing autographs.
I walked up to the man, “Hello, my name is Nigel Nelson. This is my friend and comrade, Hammond Royale. I work with the Linbridge Police Department. I was wondering if I could get an autograph. I would thoroughly enjoy it, as I like art myself.”
“Why surely,” he said taking my pen and paper from my notebook. I watched as he began to sign. He signed his first name quickly and without a problem, but hesitated while the pen leaked ink in one spot, and then finished. His hand seemed to be shaking, and he had sweat on his forehead. He got up and walked away from his artwork.
“Hey, where are you going?” I asked. Immediately after I asked he stumbled and fell. He was having a heart attack.
“Help, help, is anyone a doctor?” I asked as I began performing CPR on his chest.
He looked in my eye and said, “Blue eyes…” He died and lay in my arms. I had lost the lead suspect in our case. I began to cry as I pushed Hammond’s arm away from mine as he tried to comfort me.
“I lost another one!” I looked around quickly, pushing what was the late Mr. Plenty off of me. She was gone. The woman that I saw secondly was gone. I ran around a corner and saw her talking to a man. The man was holding a gun. My body when cold as I sprung my body back behind the wall, stumbling over my feet. Gun shots resounded as the Captain and Lieutenant ran past me, guns drawn and yelling. They were in hot pursuit. I lay on the concrete with bruises on my hand. My derby was flung a few feet away.
“Nigel, are you okay?” asked Hammond handing my derby back to me.
“I’m fine! Those two have gotten away with murder.”
“Just relax Nigel. Let’s go grab a coffee and we can talk.”
“May as well, I’m useless here.” We both got in my car. Hammond drove due to the anger I was experiencing. We drove for a good five minutes without a word.
“Nigel, you can’t blame yourself,” said Hammond.
“Why not? I have let the police down.”
“Nigel, you were shot. Not many people are shot and live to tell about it. There is no shame in doing your best, even if it isn’t good enough.”
“Thanks Hammond, that makes me feel a bit better.”
“We will get a Conga Leo coffee. We can sit down and enjoy a good talk.”
“I just feel like I could walk around a corner at any moment and she would be here. I am disappointed every time I do, just to find that she isn’t.”
“It is when we put expectations on life and people that we are disappointed. Life isn’t perfect, neither are people.”
“Yeah, I suppose that is true. So, what we do know is that Mrs. Plenty didn’t tell me everything. Also, that Mr. Plenty had said, ‘Blue Eyes.’ What did he mean by that? Who were those two people that were talking?” I spoke my thoughts.
“What do you think happened?”
“What has blue eyes?” I asked, implying that was what happened.
“Ummm, I don’t know. It will come to you, just wait on it.”
“Yeah, hopefully a cup of Joe will help.”
“I know that people have blue eyes but there are too many people that do,” said Hammond trying to help. We pulled up to Conga Leo’s place. I looked down and there was a hundred dollar bill stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
“Wouldn’t it be my luck to find a hundred dollar bill on my shoe?” I said sarcastically.
“What a second, is that a watermark?” asked Hammond. He took the bill out of my hand. He took his wallet out of his pocket and compared mine to one of his. It was real for sure! “It is real Nigel! Congratulations!”
“Thanks, chap! It’s always been a dream of mine to find a hundred bucks on my shoe!” I said ecstatically.
“Wow, the turning of events of today seem crazy!” said Hammond with a smile and half laugh.
My phone rang in my pocket, “Hello?”
“Nigel, we caught those two that were shooting at you! After chasing them for three blocks, we caught them. They have confessed to the killing of Mr. Plenty, along with the brutalizing of Mrs. Plenty,” said the Captain.
“Wow, that was a quick turn of events!” I said.
“It is your best work yet Nigel! Keep up the good work,” said the Captain. I hung up the phone and got out the car.
“They caught the two shooters. They confessed everything!” I said.
“See, today isn’t so bad after all,” said Hammond with a fist pound.