Is this kid serious? He can’t be. Not really.
“Your door?”, I asked incredulously. He nodded.
“Sorry, but I don’t think you're old enough to own property.”, I said.
“How do you know that it is property? It could just be a door one finds in the middle of the night.” he said back.
“This night, or one before?” To that the kid was silent. I guessed he was just one of the homeless wandering around. Why else would he be wearing an over-sized trench coat? The sleeves were dragging on the floor of the alleyway. Actually, all of his clothes were over-sized, with the exception of his shoes and hat.
I checked my watch. 8:15. I really had to leave.
“Bye.”, I said quickly. Go, go, gooooooooo!
The kid tapped me on the back and gave me a piece of paper. Then he walked on. Yup. He’s crazy, I thought as I put his card in my cross-body purse.
I rushed over to the Yard just as 8:30 hit. Chelmey was sitting in the bench that was near the doorway, reading the newspaper. The headline was the same as it had been for the past few days. MURDER AGAIN IN THE DARKWOOD HOUSE?
“So the little Eliah returns just in time”, he said. He flipped the page.
“At least I made in time”, I said back. He snorted and flipped the page.
“Get in your room before the guard decides that you’re not coming.”
“Great bloody room”, I muttered to myself as I walked to the cells. I was told to avoid the prisoners, but seeing as my cell was by the end of the row, I had to walk past the “real” (Yea, bloody right) prisoners.
If they really were as smart as they give on (or as the press says) they would put me near the front. Now that’s thinking.
Sure enough, there was an empty cell at the end. Jones (Mr. Guard) didn’t speak to me, he never did. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me.
Home sweet home, cell sweet cell. Never thought they’d be the same. Funny how…. life …..works….
------------------------
I remember that night. She had a fight with someone, but she wouldn’t tell me. I could tell because she had an air about her when she fought. She took self-defense lessons, I do too.
But this time it was different. She seemed scared. I had never seen her scared before and it scared me.
She went into our parent’s room and closed the door behind her. She never did that. I could hear weird noises coming from the room. She must have been rummaging around, looking for something.
She was muttering to herself as well. Weird things, couldn’t catch them. Bizzarro.
I went to bed feeling strange. Mixed up. like I didn’t know what to think of her. Of me. Of the whole bloody universe.
I woke in the middle of the night. Cold. I went to the closet to get an extra blanket. Went back to sleep. In the morning, she was dead.
------------------------
“Hah!”, I gasped. The cell was dark. I woke up in the middle of the night, it seems. The clock across my cell confirmed my thoughts, it was 4:36 in the morning.
I looked over to the side of the cell. It was apparent that James the guard was fast asleep. Yes, crime does sleep. Because the police can.
And as long as he was sleeping, I couldn’t get out. I could make a racket, but that probably would blow up in my face like a bloody firecracker. Which I had seen before, and it looked bloody fun. Yeh. Sarcasm.
So either I break out, or make a ruckus. Or I hang around in a tight cell for roughly 25 minutes until I am allowed to leave. Or until someone here (no, not the prisoners) gives me permission to leave.
With the light filtering through the bars that served as a window, an idea occurred to me. I flipped my purse over to the side and opened it. Amid the crumpled pieces of paper and mementos, I found the card the weird boy had given me. It read the following:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2367 Frey Way Detective Services
Elliot I.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Weird. That little chap was a detective? Wearing the clothes didn’t give you the right. But he didn’t look like he was lying when he gave it to me…
A sudden rustling snapped me out of my thinking. It was James. He had woken and was no longer slumped on the floor. I looked at the clock. 4:57. Three more bloody minutes.
“Hey, James, can you let me out? It’s almost 5 o’clock.” He stared at me, half asleep. I'll take that as a no.
I knew the feeling. I was half asleep on that morning. The sirens were about as rude of an awakening as you can get. That morning now three days ago was so exhausting. The facts were confusing. Three days ago. Two minutes until I can leave. Four days until my trial.
“Your door?”, I asked incredulously. He nodded.
“Sorry, but I don’t think you're old enough to own property.”, I said.
“How do you know that it is property? It could just be a door one finds in the middle of the night.” he said back.
“This night, or one before?” To that the kid was silent. I guessed he was just one of the homeless wandering around. Why else would he be wearing an over-sized trench coat? The sleeves were dragging on the floor of the alleyway. Actually, all of his clothes were over-sized, with the exception of his shoes and hat.
I checked my watch. 8:15. I really had to leave.
“Bye.”, I said quickly. Go, go, gooooooooo!
The kid tapped me on the back and gave me a piece of paper. Then he walked on. Yup. He’s crazy, I thought as I put his card in my cross-body purse.
I rushed over to the Yard just as 8:30 hit. Chelmey was sitting in the bench that was near the doorway, reading the newspaper. The headline was the same as it had been for the past few days. MURDER AGAIN IN THE DARKWOOD HOUSE?
“So the little Eliah returns just in time”, he said. He flipped the page.
“At least I made in time”, I said back. He snorted and flipped the page.
“Get in your room before the guard decides that you’re not coming.”
“Great bloody room”, I muttered to myself as I walked to the cells. I was told to avoid the prisoners, but seeing as my cell was by the end of the row, I had to walk past the “real” (Yea, bloody right) prisoners.
If they really were as smart as they give on (or as the press says) they would put me near the front. Now that’s thinking.
Sure enough, there was an empty cell at the end. Jones (Mr. Guard) didn’t speak to me, he never did. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me.
Home sweet home, cell sweet cell. Never thought they’d be the same. Funny how…. life …..works….
------------------------
I remember that night. She had a fight with someone, but she wouldn’t tell me. I could tell because she had an air about her when she fought. She took self-defense lessons, I do too.
But this time it was different. She seemed scared. I had never seen her scared before and it scared me.
She went into our parent’s room and closed the door behind her. She never did that. I could hear weird noises coming from the room. She must have been rummaging around, looking for something.
She was muttering to herself as well. Weird things, couldn’t catch them. Bizzarro.
I went to bed feeling strange. Mixed up. like I didn’t know what to think of her. Of me. Of the whole bloody universe.
I woke in the middle of the night. Cold. I went to the closet to get an extra blanket. Went back to sleep. In the morning, she was dead.
------------------------
“Hah!”, I gasped. The cell was dark. I woke up in the middle of the night, it seems. The clock across my cell confirmed my thoughts, it was 4:36 in the morning.
I looked over to the side of the cell. It was apparent that James the guard was fast asleep. Yes, crime does sleep. Because the police can.
And as long as he was sleeping, I couldn’t get out. I could make a racket, but that probably would blow up in my face like a bloody firecracker. Which I had seen before, and it looked bloody fun. Yeh. Sarcasm.
So either I break out, or make a ruckus. Or I hang around in a tight cell for roughly 25 minutes until I am allowed to leave. Or until someone here (no, not the prisoners) gives me permission to leave.
With the light filtering through the bars that served as a window, an idea occurred to me. I flipped my purse over to the side and opened it. Amid the crumpled pieces of paper and mementos, I found the card the weird boy had given me. It read the following:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2367 Frey Way Detective Services
Elliot I.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Weird. That little chap was a detective? Wearing the clothes didn’t give you the right. But he didn’t look like he was lying when he gave it to me…
A sudden rustling snapped me out of my thinking. It was James. He had woken and was no longer slumped on the floor. I looked at the clock. 4:57. Three more bloody minutes.
“Hey, James, can you let me out? It’s almost 5 o’clock.” He stared at me, half asleep. I'll take that as a no.
I knew the feeling. I was half asleep on that morning. The sirens were about as rude of an awakening as you can get. That morning now three days ago was so exhausting. The facts were confusing. Three days ago. Two minutes until I can leave. Four days until my trial.