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profile kellie is also known as brains, &since brains is the thinking center of all beings, i am always right, unless you can confidently tell me that your brain tells you otherwise but that would mean that your brains are not thinking straight so i dont think you will ever admit to that bold underline italics tagboard your tagboard here! recommended width: 175px affiliates friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend miscellaneous put anything you want here music, poems, etc. archives by month: July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2012 by post Chapter One (Past)A black shadowy figure stood at ... RELINK. Sand & Stone I MISS KUCHING!! ): less idiot with my latte, please! i'm back & lazy has set in.. KUCHING! weather is nice (: 6 F.B.I credits designer |
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Chapter One (Past)A black shadowy figure stood at the mouth of the alley. He wore a dark, low hat, casting a shadow upon his scarred, such that his red gleaming eyes stood out in the starless night. Around him, his cloak billowed in the wind. From afar, he appeared to be the Grim Reaper. The gun in his hand shone in the streetlights. He raised his white-gloved hand and put his finger to the trigger. A hollow clicking resounded off the walls of the empty alley. A scream pierced the still silent night. Arterial blood splattered onto the walls of the alley. The figure smiled to himself. The bright red of arterial blood reflected in his bloodshot eyes. The dull grey shade of the alley walls became abstract with blood creeping into the crevices of the wall; the art of murder. Holstering the gun, he allowed himself one more smile of satisfaction before straightening his expression. As he turned to walk out the alley, the demon returned, and his hunger for murder increased tenfold. If anyone were to stick their heads out their windows, they would never see the silent demon make his kill. Chapter Two (Present) Looking down the high streets of London, amongst the top hats and prim coats, a lone man stands out. A poor old man stands hunching against the wind in his thin cotton shirt. His patched checkered pants frayed at the calves, looking like the works of pesky rodents. If you look closely, beneath the dirty oversized hat, you could see his stark white skin and glowing red iris. A deep scar stood out on his skin, cutting from his eye to his lip. If you stared hard enough, you could see the deep lines on his colourless face, defining his age. Shivering in the cold, the beggar’s long white hair blew about, giving him a dishevelled look. From behind, a carriage slowed to a stop, banging into the side of the beggar, knocking him off his feet, onto the steps behind him. A young well-groomed man stepped out of the white carriage, smiling charmingly. With a black bowler hat, a black cloak billowing in the wind, the man stood by the door of the carriage and held out his white gloved hand, bowing slightly. A fair maiden took the young man’s hand and eased herself out of the carriage. Laughing, the young man and lady swept past the crouching old man and strode briskly up the steps, into the costume boutique, not giving the poor old beggar even a second glance. The poor old man stared enviously, almost hungrily, as the young couple walking into the boutique. The driver of the carriage glared at the beggar with disgust and drove the carriage away, kicking sand into the beggar’s already sore eyes. Coughing and retching from the sand in his throat, the beggar stood up slowly and rubbed the bruise on his blistered foot gingerly. He limped away down the street and turn into the alley behind the boutique. Shaking the sand out of his hair with one white hairless arm, the other help onto the wall, easing himself around the corner, disappearing from sight. Chapter Three (Present) Inside the boutique, Young Master Jonas William Scrubb meticulously picked out his costume for the masquerade. The pampered youngest son of Lord William Scrubb was preparing for a party that night hosted by the Lady May Madeline. Her one and only daughter, Annabelle May Madeline, was to be Jonas’ distinguished partner for the party. Ahhh... A masquerade, what a splendid idea; in a large ballroom, with hundreds of people of consequence, faces all hidden in masks. No one would see anything, no one would know anything. What a splendid idea! What splendid timing… “Darling, what do you think of this wonderful dress?” Annabelle asked in her high-pitched voice. “Splendid, darling, just splendid! I’m sure you will look marvellous in it; the belle of the ball, in fact!” Jonas exclaimed, his eyes gleaming. Taking the dress, Annabelle draped it over herself and danced gleefully around the boutique. Jonas took her hands and started Waltzing all over the boutique. Laughing, joking and singing merrily together. Anyone who did not know Jonas would easily mistake his merry-making for genuine love towards poor little Annabelle. But then again, no one did know who Jonas William Scrubb really was… Chapter Four (Past) Police sirens sounded. A red tape was pulled across the mouth of the alley. A large crowd was gathering to see what human tragedies had taken place yet again. People are just like that; attracted to misery and death. In all the commotion, no one saw the cloaked figure disappearing into the building across the street. As the crowd swelled, the policemen scratched their heads, bewildered. They had not dared go too close to the rotting corpse in the corner as it was giving off a putrid odour, but from what they could see, the cause of death did not seem to be apparent. Behind them, a van rolled to a stop in front of the alley. A woman decked completely in white stepped out. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Her face was stern and void of emotions as she walked briskly towards to foul smelling corpse. The corpse, an obese man in his late forties, was lying limp at the foot of the wall in a pool of his own blood and excretion. “He was found thirty minutes ago by a man called William Scrubb. Cause of death is unknown, no visible wound, but the area around his neck is swollen. No identification or medical records available, though he obviously had weight problems.” A police officer said grimly as Dr. Gwen Crowell strode down the alley. Nodding curtly, Dr. Crowell bent down and placed one gloved hand on the corpse. It was cold. She leaned forward and pushed the corpse down. Looking down the back of his neck, Dr. Crowell saw something very odd; a silver needle, thin as a strand of hair, sticking out the back of the corpse’s neck. There it is, thought Dr. Crowell. The figure had been observing the entire process from the building. It is time. He moved back into the shadows and disappeared, like he was never there. Chapter Five (Present) One hour to go. One hour more before it begins. Jonas sat in a chintz arm chair beside the fire in London’s most expensive pub, Shadow. Sitting around him, laughing and joking, were his mates; all sons of his father’s friends, all people of consequence. As the sat around chatting, Jonas’ closest mate, John Wesley Mayor, brought up the afternoon’s hot topic: Annabelle May Madeline. “Master Jonas, once again, you seem to be the lucky one, with gorgeous Lady Annabelle as your distinguished partner for tonight’s party.” He laughed. “Of course I should have seen this coming; Annabelle. Well, if had been the one shopping with her this afternoon, you would be singing a different tune. However, she is a beauty after all.” Jonas smiled slyly. They laughed as they thought of shrill little Annabelle. They all knew of Jonas’ reputation as a ladies’ man, everyone who knew Jonas were fully aware of that little fact. As they joked about young Annabelle, a man walked into the pub. Busy in their own world, the young men did not notice a thing. However, as the stranger made his way through the pub, the men looked up in search of a sound. Thump, thump, thump. As the new arrival walked, or rather, limped, over to the bar, all eyes rested on him. He donned a dark brown coat and a grey shirt. His pants were patched causing him to appear completely out of place in a room full of expensively dressed individuals. However, the crowd stared at him not because of his clothes, it was of what was hidden under his long pants; a wooden leg. Ignoring the stares, the stranger went over to the bar and ordered a martini. The bartender looked at him suspiciously before turning around to prepare his drink. As he sipped his drink, the stranger looked around the room. Something caught his eye and he stared. Jonas was laughing again, unaware of the attention. As Jonas and his mates stood up to leave, the stranger finished his drink and followed after. They did not notice their new companion. Chapter Six (Present) There he was, Young Master Jonas William Scrubb, dressed in a handsome white suit and an elegantly simple white mask. Taking her hands, Jonas led young Lady Annabelle, dressed equally beautiful in a colourful gown and a black feathered mask, to the middle of the ballroom for the opening dance. Gracefully, they waltzed around the room, in front of hundreds of masked strangers. Everyone in the room were all distinguished guests of Lady May Madeline; all people of consequence. The hour has come. At the other end of the mansion, preparations were being made. Outside the world of dancing and masks, an albino slept on the steps, out in the cold. As more late arrivals scurried up the steps, they carefully carved an imaginary circle around the man; avoiding his colourless hand and red iris, ignoring his plea for warmth. Only one man came to his aid, but no one knew who the thumping masked man was. Inside, as more masked guests moved to the center of the ballroom, Jonas led Annabelle to a small glass table towards the back of the ballroom. The table was small and simple, yet charmingly beautiful; an embroidered piece of white silk for a table cloth and a small vase of bright, colourful flowers stood in the center. A waiter walked past and Jonas ordered two cocktails for Annabelle and himself. Annabelle excused herself to the ladies; that was they last anyone saw of Annabelle. Jonas had always been an observant man. As he sat there waiting for Annabelle to return, he looked around the ballroom, taking in every detail of the room and the guests present, attempting to put a face to the masked individuals. In his thirst, Jonas downed the whole glass the moment the waiter reappeared with the cocktails. However, as Jonas grabbed the glass, he noticed a small triangle of paper sticking out from the decorative umbrella of his drink. Jonas stared hard at the paper, trying to recognise the handwriting. How is it possible? Perhaps someone was simply referring to his mask. Though somehow, he doubted the latter. When he looked up, the waiter was gone, but Annabelle was still not back. "I know who you are.” Chapter Seven (Past) Dr. Crowell straightened up. She had been bending over the corpse of Jackson Mayor for the past hour. Behind her, Inspector James Thorn and his partner, Edward Connell, had been observing her dissection of Jackson Mayor. “The needle on his neck had contained some sort of lethal poison, which explains the bluish-black marks on his neck. Tests are currently being run on the type of poison was present; the results should be ready by tomorrow morning.” Dr. Crowell said, sounding almost like a computer, her emotionless voice echoed in the bare room. James nodded and started to the door when his usually silent partner interrupted. “What do you think is the motive of the murder, Dr. Crowell? Why did he use poison needle instead of a gunshot?” he asked quietly. Looking up, Dr. Crowell stared at Edward intensely, studying him as if through a microscope. “Well, there could have been anything. As long as we do not know the true identity of this man, we may never know…” her voice trailed off and silence returned. 1:47 pm |