15 December 2007

Here's my attempt at writing mystery when I was in high school, I think.

Jade stepped over the sprawled figure of her aunt. She shaded her eyes from the noon sun and looked around. All over the faces, with large unseeing eyes and mouths in muted screams, were of unspoken terror. The slay was effective. She shuddered at the cold of death permeating the whole place. Raising her eyes toward the big house, she saw a faint lightning strike its roof. With long strides, she started toward the gate of iron, which she closed behind her. It will be raining soon. She has to look for a shelter. She closed her eyes and a single drop of tear rolled down her cheek.

Closing the door of his sedan, Bruce raised a brow at the once big house now sooted and half-collapsed caused by a fire that determined its fate. Paramedics were carrying away dead bodies, old and young, all at odd angles like those of dead fishes. He shook his head. How can he think of his hated type of food at this time? He started forward but was blocked by a muscle of a police officer. "Hey, snoop!", he snapped, hands on hips. "You again." Bruce shrugged. "Guess I have a thing for death. So, sir, what...?" He was cut off. "All died of broken bones. The Zanderos. Pretty large family. Twenty nine in all. May have been a survivor. Don't know yet. House believed to be burned to the ground by fire started by lightning." The officer cocked his head to one side. "Or the stove was left on. Satisfied, boy?" Bruce blinked. "Yeah... I-I guess. Uh, thanks, sir." He got into the driver's seat and stared at space. Now, that's one story for the papers. But there's only one thing on his mind. A survivor.

I've never finished that. My mom just found it with my other stuffs.
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