All I could feel were sticks and thorns digging into my back. Above me there was blue. I stood up feeling ever increasing pain in my legs. I examined the scratches and bruises on them and my torn shirt. I called Hanna, because she was the last person I remember. Eventually I gave up. I saw a crossarm in the direction of the sun, so I walked towards it, shielding my eyes from the glaring sun.
Standing bare foot on my front porch, I opened the door. I did not feel like showering or changing yet, so I turned on the tv and flopped onto the couch. Flipping through the channels I saw a news report from our town. I could tell because they always put this ugly logo in the top corner of the screen.
"-was brought to the morgue and is now being autopsied let's talk to the fa- “I was about the flick away, until I caught a glimpse of Hannas mom. Well Hannas entire family, but her mom stud out the most, because she always wore these crazy up dos. Hanna right I should call her, but then an image flashed onto the screen of the forest floor.” we won't stop searching until we find her killer and they rot in prison forever.”
So, Hannas is dead, she hasn't run away, she didn't forget to call me she's dead, cold, and dead.
She was murdered last night, Nov 12th. Her body was found in the forest, not too far away from where I woke up, by a lady on her morning jog.
That night the entire town was in disarray, since Hanna was kind of the town sweetheart. They held a short wake for her. I considered going but decided a sea of her dad’s political opponents feigning empathy wasn’t the right way to mourn her. I did join the townspeople when they all ran into the forest looking for the crime scene. The police tried to stop us, but we marched like we were on a witch-hunt. We found the crime scene where her corpse lay before. I saw a scrap of my shirt; evidence must have missed it.I picked it up and stuffed it in my pocket.
In the aftermath the police had presented a few suspects, Jasson her boyfriend, he sucks but definitely not a murderer. Another was that her father did it, to get sympathy votes. The most widely accepted theory was, that she was killed by an opportunist, a stranger.
First, I looked at the evidence available in news reports and articles, it was about as useful as an umbrella in the sun. I tried to talk to Hannas family. They said they didn't want to talk about Hanna, that they wanted to move on and proceed to slam the door in my face. I would have to get the videos of their interrogation. the police wouldn't give them to me repeating “the case is closed leave “as they had many times before.
I got the tapes. I didn’t bother picking the broken glass out of my hands or checking if the police had followed me. I went straight to my Couche and turned on the tv. It was 9 hours of recording, all in the same room with the same investigator. I was enthralled watching them. It was so obvious; it was like they were taunting the investigator proud of their crime. I still need something more to show everyone their guilt prof no one could dismiss.
I stood in the snow outside Hannas's house. This is where the prof laid; I knew it more than I knew my own mind. Everything sat the way it always sat. Her favorite cat plushie longed on her floral duvet. we made it together in 5th grade. She loved it even with its barley hanging on button eyes and crooked smile. All of the Fotos of us where neatly hung on the wall above her bed. I ransacked her room rummaging through every shelf draw and cupboard. I found nothing, not a single piece of proof. I stood opposite the cat plush. It smiled at me, grinned at me, mocked me. When I grabbed it felt warm, I dug my overgrown nails into the fur and ripped it. There was blood when I ripped it, it lay on my hands it was all over me like when I woke up that morning in the forest but once again it wasn't my own.
This is really short because there was a 750 word limit
Nobody wants to know what happened but I do I have been searching those who killed her. I know there hiding somewhere but nobody wants to go searching they think I am obsessed because I search for the truth . The clues are hiding somewhere Mabey with her old cat Mabey in an old fog but probably in her old house , here.it is abandoned broken and cold nobody wants to go here. I do. I cant solve mystery’s without clues ,catch those who killed her without legs . I walk with the fog now the truth walks along . they killed her the cats say ,we killed her the cold says, the truth killed her the fog says . the truth cant be broken but I do think the truth walks with the fog. what truth killed her I cant know , it walks with 2 legs I caught footprint with her . the truth is I am obsessed because I am a truth and I walk with 2 legs.
I did this in English class and though it would be fun to share I pretty sure I ended up with a few more than 50 unique words
I love being criptic I kinda turned this into a full short story I might post later
The first thing I drew on procreate I don’t know how I feel about procreate like it’s nice but the user interface is kinda confusing and you have to click through like multiple menus to get to stuff since I guess they wanted everything to look nice and simplistic when your drawing.