Observing Murder – A Short Story Part 2
Having made my decision to look first at newspaper reports, to see if I could find anything about the murder I had witnessed in my dream, it made sense to me to spend a couple of days in London where I could research properly. Online searching is all very well but there is nothing like doing it by hand, carefully reading through each little snippet of information just in case something has not been picked up by the search engines. My time was my own and, luckily, I had some money saved so I could afford to book into a London hotel for a couple of nights (nothing fancy you understand, just a basic hotel), and spend the days at Colindale where the British Library has its newspaper depository. Because it was already Thursday I decided to leave it until the Monday then, at least, I had the option of staying longer if necessary, especially as I had also decided to take a look at the scene of the crime itself.
For the first time in a long time I was feeling upbeat about things. I had something to do – at least it felt as though I did. I spent the weekend packing my case, gathering up my notepad, pencils, laptop and the notes I had made about my dream, and wrote out a plan of action. This was, of necessity, rather short. I had no idea what, if anything, I would find but I needed a plan behind me. I needed the reassurance that what I was doing had some structure – but mainly I needed to reassure myself that I was not going on a wild goose chase.
Observing Murder – A Short Story Part 1
My best friend, when I was a young child, was a girl called Laurie. I can’t tell you what she looked like as I never saw her face I was only aware of some indistinct shape and, of course, her voice.
It was some years before I realised that my other friends didn’t have a friend like Laurie. Perhaps that should have freaked me out but it didn’t – it rather freaked my friends out though, and I soon learned not to mention her. Laurie was clever and wise, she told me things that I didn’t know, and often foretold what would happen in the near future. She was always right. Once I realised that my friends didn’t have this sort of friend with them I realised I had a huge advantage – Laurie could keep me informed and, more than that, could help me with my school work. This was important to me at the time because I always wanted to be and sound clever – Laurie was both.
Another short story using Shafali’s beautiful pen and ink drawings as a prompt. Please visit her site to see her wonderful drawings.
Monday 11th May 2015
It was exactly one week since Jane Meadows had moved into the ground floor flat of a lovely old Victorian house, and six more days before she had to go back to work. During the past week she had steadily worked through the pile of packing boxes, which held all her earthly possessions, and found every item a place in her new home. It was time to tackle the garden, or forest as she termed it which, she had been delighted to learn, belonged to the downstairs flat – her flat. No-one else had access to it so it was hers to do with as she liked.
Stepping out of the French doors, which led from her sitting room to the outside world, she stood and surveyed the rest of her territory. The grass was at least three feet high in places whilst there was a massive laurel bush which had run rampant over the years and taken over most of the end of the garden. This would certainly have to come out as it blocked the light which, in turn, failed to reach the lovely sitting room. Jane had plans for her garden: a patio where she could sit of an evening sipping a glass of wine or two, a border round the edges of the garden, a small fish pond and eventually a summer house where she was planning to write her novel when the muse eventually spoke to her. But first she had to clear the site. Jane, not one for standing around looking at work which needed to be done, had already organised a team to help her. Her two brothers, Jeff and Kevin, were due to arrive in the next ten minutes and she’d decided that they could make a start on the laurel bush. Read more