Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Connor: The Strange Murder
It was a dark night. I was sitting alone in my office with a class of coffee waiting for a case to solve. Suddenly a beautiful blond haired, blue eyed girl walked in. She looked distraught and, as it would turn out, truly was. Someone had been murdered. The cops couldn't get the time of death or the type of murder weapon that had been used. The only obvious hint was that the victim had a hole in her chest. A blatant stab wound on the corpse, with no weapon in plain sight, the typical case that people bring to my office. I looked at what little evidence I had to work with. The victim was at the library when he was killed. The girl said she didn't know him, but had found the body. Seeing as she looked frightened, which is only natural after finding a corpse in a library, I guessed she was telling the truth. She said her name was Zoe, which I thought to be a beautiful name, and that she worked at the King's Land library. I promised I would find the culprit if it was the last thing I did. I went right to the crime scene and talked to police chief Mason. Mason said that he found a small amount of evidence, a note with the letter l capitalized as if the first letter of the sender's name. I looked for clues for a bit and then Mason said "It might be..." Before he finished the sentence he was dead, a mace stuck in his corpse, I knew I would have to look for more clues. I investigated the crime scene for a long time and figured out that it must have been someone on the police force. I thought with my great powers of deduction "The mace, the fact that the culprit knew where I was going, and the note with the capitalized l. It all added up in a gruesome way. An officer of the law would be able to keep a tab on any conversation. The medieval weapon used to slaughter the chief of police was a hint. Officer Lance had caused the murder for no reason. Then it made sense to me there was a motive to kill, the victim was a lawyer who had protected a murder suspect. I returned to the police station and arrested Lance for his crime. Afterward I went back to my office and told Zoe who the murderer was. The End
Labels:
Connor,
Short Stories
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Connor: Trials Of Witchcraft
Trials Of Witchcraft
By: Connor M. Jones
In Salem, Massachusetts, 1765, a woman was accused of witchcraft. This woman grew up in London, England. Her parents were atheists, executed when she was twelve. Her mother had owned a broom and book. The book was bound in leather, yet looked like it was bound of human flesh. The broom, on the other hand, looked absolutely ordinary in every respect. The woman's father was an alchemist who, before his death, taught her everything he knew. Her name was Jessica and she was, as it seemed, an ordinary woman. She lived just on the edge of the town. Jessica met the natives, who she had helped a few times and learned from. She was, by all means, the best doctor in the city. Although she helped everyone in the town, a few people hated her. Once, she had attempted to help an injured man. She would use "special words" to heal people, but despite her help the man died. He died the exact instant that she completed a verse. There were a few people who had no hatred for her and kind of liked being near her. One of these people was a handsome rich man with the name of George. George was a kind fellow and had a crush on Jessica, although he would never admit it. After three years had passed, in 1763, they had become married. When they had invited the governor, his wife had pointed out a resemblance between the book and a bock belonging to a famous witch. The witch she was talking about was a woman named Linda Stevenson. As it turns out Jessica's last name was Stevenson and the witch had died the exact same day as Jessica's mother. Realizing this Jessica had forced the governor and his wife to leave. In October 1764 Jessica decided to check the broom. Before checking the broom, a note fell out of the spell book, a note from Linda Stevenson. It said that she left the book and broom to Jessica and told her that the broom had strong magic powers. The day was All Hallows Eve, today Halloween, It was a dark night when Jessica took off. As she flew past the moon and toward the village she cackled and grinned. She would recite magic words, for their strength increased on All Hallows Eve, these words caused houses to burn and people to die. In the June of the following year Jessica was burned at the stake and George was hanged. The price of wedding a witch was as bad as the price of being one. In the underworld the day Jessica died, she met Satan himself. Satan said "Your family has served me since the beginning of all that is. Your mother, her mother, her mother and so on and so forth had carried a book with spells for centuries. I had asked your great, great grandmother to keep a book of spells and write down the names of those who joined the group, in their own blood. You were the last in the bloodline, although you inspired a new generation of witches. Christ is in Heaven and so to is god and your husband. You got the wrong end of the stick. He's in Heaven, your in Hell. It is just that simple. Oh, so you know, god damned you because of that broom ride in October, 1764, not because of your family. Welcome to Hell. Now may I see that book. I need to write a title on it. I've got it in the 1800s an author will call this The Necronomicon. Allow me to repeat, Welcome to Hell, Jessica Stevenson!"
Labels:
Connor,
Short Stories
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