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murders truth: chapter I (still in progress!)
Blood collected in every crevice of the small room, devastated and gloomy, barely shielded from the rushing wind outside. Something dangled from the ceiling, its blood-red mass following the path of gravity and dripping onto the floor, as the stench of death continued to spread. Sven couldn't see anymore. He wanted to, but also didn't. Gasping, he woke up. Someone was in danger.
***
Ciara Kane jolted awake from her sleep, blinking her eyes in an attempt to read the time on the alarm clock. After a few seconds, she gave up, closed her eyes again, and wondered what could have woken her up. As a 17-year-old, she should be sleeping in, especially on a Sunday after last night's night shift at Fortune. She wasn't ready to face the world yet.
She felt the sun's rays tickling her skin and smiled at the thought of summer until she realized the problem and angrily exclaimed, "Damn vomit-spewers!" She had forgotten to close the caravan window. Her neighbor, Reiner Pickart, had once again overindulged in alcohol.
Her small plot was located right between the washroom and his "kingdom," as he called it. She and Clyn, her grandfather, lived in a rundown camping site. Everywhere else nearby and a small apartment were too expensive. So, they led a simple but quiet life. Usually.
Almost every time he saw Ciara or her grandpa open a window, he would vomit outside the small caravan. The whole plot stank. Groaning, Ciara stood up, making sure to breathe through her mouth, and sleepily walked to the window to close it.
Ciara slipped into her old, worn-out black baggy pants, which had seen better days. She tucked her gray shirt into her pants before opening the door of her caravan and already having one foot outside. Suddenly, the pungent smell hit her face.
She pulled her leg back in time and hissed, "You damn asshole, Reiner!" Then she took a run and jumped over the yellow-green mess covering her beloved black Crocs with the provocative "F U!" inscription. "Damn it, I only wear these for you, Reiner!" she shouted in frustration.
She opened the storage compartment and took out a pink box where she kept odds and ends. "Kind of like the desk drawer for regular people," Ciara mumbled, fishing out a too-small brown flip-flop and a too-big blue Croc.
Suddenly, she saw her chance...
***
Ciara Kane jolted awake from her sleep, blinking her eyes in an attempt to read the time on the alarm clock. After a few seconds, she gave up, closed her eyes again, and wondered what could have woken her up. As a 17-year-old, she should be sleeping in, especially on a Sunday after last night's night shift at Fortune. She wasn't ready to face the world yet.
She felt the sun's rays tickling her skin and smiled at the thought of summer until she realized the problem and angrily exclaimed, "Damn vomit-spewers!" She had forgotten to close the caravan window. Her neighbor, Reiner Pickart, had once again overindulged in alcohol.
Her small plot was located right between the washroom and his "kingdom," as he called it. She and Clyn, her grandfather, lived in a rundown camping site. Everywhere else nearby and a small apartment were too expensive. So, they led a simple but quiet life. Usually.
Almost every time he saw Ciara or her grandpa open a window, he would vomit outside the small caravan. The whole plot stank. Groaning, Ciara stood up, making sure to breathe through her mouth, and sleepily walked to the window to close it.
Ciara slipped into her old, worn-out black baggy pants, which had seen better days. She tucked her gray shirt into her pants before opening the door of her caravan and already having one foot outside. Suddenly, the pungent smell hit her face.
She pulled her leg back in time and hissed, "You damn asshole, Reiner!" Then she took a run and jumped over the yellow-green mess covering her beloved black Crocs with the provocative "F U!" inscription. "Damn it, I only wear these for you, Reiner!" she shouted in frustration.
She opened the storage compartment and took out a pink box where she kept odds and ends. "Kind of like the desk drawer for regular people," Ciara mumbled, fishing out a too-small brown flip-flop and a too-big blue Croc.
Suddenly, she saw her chance...
