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Short story-1. Mr Wolfe. Claire Mizen
Observations
Jessica took one deep breath and froze in pure panic at what she could see. The blood ran in pretty patterns as the rain carried it in mini streams twisting to her feet. She was horrified. She could not believe her eyes.
Her best friend lay sprawled over the patio floor; her arms were peculiarly bent and twisted like a sparrows legs when stiff on a motorway. Her hair, drab and dull like her character in life. No one would miss her would they? I wonder if anyone will even notice! The entire shape and expression would have made a twisted artist’s delight. But most chilling of all that cold face. Her eyes open wide – gazing up at her, glazed over. Jessica could neither think nor speak, she just stand in a frozen image looking down. It felt like a lifetime. What could she do?
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it off with her hand, that’s when the real panic hit her. When, a red hand print was left on her face, scarring her. Branded. Short bursts of breath and tight pains, like stab wounds piercing her chest took her from the scene, through the patio doors and into the kitchen where she reach into her pocket for her blue ventilator. As the breathing become more controlled and the pains ease away, the guilt slowly fill her soul like a sponge. Soaking in such uncontrollable emotions she had never felt before. She was overwhelmed and above all scared.
The water ran off her hands and the washing up bowl shimmered pink. She dipped her entire face in the water and her hands vigorously scratch at her stained cheek with a nail brush. Her own blood, dripping from her face yet now she cannot tell the difference.
I suppose in some people there is a time and limit when people can stay sane. In certain circumstances they simply crack.
Jessica almost like a scheduled routine stripped of her mucky clothes and loaded them one by one into the washing machine including bracelets, hair bands and shoes. She sit naked on the floor clenching both folded arms watching intensely the clothes spin, round and round. Millions of scenarios and thousands of horrid thoughts tortured her brain. She couldn’t take one thought at a time; a conscience is portrayed as a ridiculous green cricket in child films. But really the conscience is one of the most dangerous and compelling tools humans possess. It’s the control button to our helter-skelter lives.
Jessica look up with soft eyes. A picture of the two of them, her sixth birthday. The intense irony laughing her in the face. Giggling at each other, there faces smiling and smothered with traces of chocolate cake and goodies. The miniature picture clasped in plastic dangling from her overfilling purse. They had been more like sisters. They knew everything about each other. They had been through everything with each other. Jessica was always the dominant one. She knew what she said goes. They were part of each other. If they liked it or not.
She sobbed at the thought of that day. How they were then and how they had been recently. Things change. They both hated change. Insecure and now alone she could not come to grips quite yet that her best friend was really outside like that on her patio floor. A warm tear ran off her cheek and onto her breast. She shivered with cold.
As she stepped into her bath and lay shutting her eyes, shutting off her thoughts and taking a single breath before submersing completely under the water, like she must have done when she was a little child. She smiled, she was thinking about a time when she was alone with mike. She loved him so much. Jessica had been with him for a year. Her recall lept instantly and a rush of jealousy and anger hit her hard. She saw him. She saw her with him. The two people she loved most together. Her heart beating fast and an attempt to pull herself together she took a deep breath and dipped down so the water covered her face.
Except she panicked, she felt my hand on her head forcing her down. Her gasps of absolute fear and terror powerless of consequence. Still. Her eyes open wide – gazing up, glazed over.
Observations
Jessica took one deep breath and froze in pure panic at what she could see. The blood ran in pretty patterns as the rain carried it in mini streams twisting to her feet. She was horrified. She could not believe her eyes.
Her best friend lay sprawled over the patio floor; her arms were peculiarly bent and twisted like a sparrows legs when stiff on a motorway. Her hair, drab and dull like her character in life. No one would miss her would they? I wonder if anyone will even notice! The entire shape and expression would have made a twisted artist’s delight. But most chilling of all that cold face. Her eyes open wide – gazing up at her, glazed over. Jessica could neither think nor speak, she just stand in a frozen image looking down. It felt like a lifetime. What could she do?
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it off with her hand, that’s when the real panic hit her. When, a red hand print was left on her face, scarring her. Branded. Short bursts of breath and tight pains, like stab wounds piercing her chest took her from the scene, through the patio doors and into the kitchen where she reach into her pocket for her blue ventilator. As the breathing become more controlled and the pains ease away, the guilt slowly fill her soul like a sponge. Soaking in such uncontrollable emotions she had never felt before. She was overwhelmed and above all scared.
The water ran off her hands and the washing up bowl shimmered pink. She dipped her entire face in the water and her hands vigorously scratch at her stained cheek with a nail brush. Her own blood, dripping from her face yet now she cannot tell the difference.
I suppose in some people there is a time and limit when people can stay sane. In certain circumstances they simply crack.
Jessica almost like a scheduled routine stripped of her mucky clothes and loaded them one by one into the washing machine including bracelets, hair bands and shoes. She sit naked on the floor clenching both folded arms watching intensely the clothes spin, round and round. Millions of scenarios and thousands of horrid thoughts tortured her brain. She couldn’t take one thought at a time; a conscience is portrayed as a ridiculous green cricket in child films. But really the conscience is one of the most dangerous and compelling tools humans possess. It’s the control button to our helter-skelter lives.
Jessica look up with soft eyes. A picture of the two of them, her sixth birthday. The intense irony laughing her in the face. Giggling at each other, there faces smiling and smothered with traces of chocolate cake and goodies. The miniature picture clasped in plastic dangling from her overfilling purse. They had been more like sisters. They knew everything about each other. They had been through everything with each other. Jessica was always the dominant one. She knew what she said goes. They were part of each other. If they liked it or not.
She sobbed at the thought of that day. How they were then and how they had been recently. Things change. They both hated change. Insecure and now alone she could not come to grips quite yet that her best friend was really outside like that on her patio floor. A warm tear ran off her cheek and onto her breast. She shivered with cold.
As she stepped into her bath and lay shutting her eyes, shutting off her thoughts and taking a single breath before submersing completely under the water, like she must have done when she was a little child. She smiled, she was thinking about a time when she was alone with mike. She loved him so much. Jessica had been with him for a year. Her recall lept instantly and a rush of jealousy and anger hit her hard. She saw him. She saw her with him. The two people she loved most together. Her heart beating fast and an attempt to pull herself together she took a deep breath and dipped down so the water covered her face.
Except she panicked, she felt my hand on her head forcing her down. Her gasps of absolute fear and terror powerless of consequence. Still. Her eyes open wide – gazing up, glazed over.
Liked the twist at the end.
My english teacher..sorry again, I well jus copied it from word and pasted with alterin
Mr Wolfe?
I wrote it so the reader was left to their own conclusion of who the killer was, ennoying. Sorry
Are 'You', the teller of the story, supposed to be Mike or just a random killer?
A*, nicely written with a good twist.
Short story-1. Mr Wolfe. Claire Mizen
Observations
Jessica took one deep breath and froze in pure panic at what she could see. The blood ran in pretty patterns as the rain carried it in mini streams twisting to her feet. She was horrified. She could not believe her eyes.
Her best friend lay sprawled over the patio floor; her arms were peculiarly bent and twisted like a sparrows legs when stiff on a motorway. Her hair, drab and dull like her character in life. No one would miss her would they? I wonder if anyone will even notice! The entire shape and expression would have made a twisted artist’s delight. But most chilling of all that cold face. Her eyes open wide – gazing up at her, glazed over. Jessica could neither think nor speak, she just stand in a frozen image looking down. It felt like a lifetime. What could she do?
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it off with her hand, that’s when the real panic hit her. When, a red hand print was left on her face, scarring her. Branded. Short bursts of breath and tight pains, like stab wounds piercing her chest took her from the scene, through the patio doors and into the kitchen where she reach into her pocket for her blue ventilator. As the breathing become more controlled and the pains ease away, the guilt slowly fill her soul like a sponge. Soaking in such uncontrollable emotions she had never felt before. She was overwhelmed and above all scared.
The water ran off her hands and the washing up bowl shimmered pink. She dipped her entire face in the water and her hands vigorously scratch at her stained cheek with a nail brush. Her own blood, dripping from her face yet now she cannot tell the difference.
I suppose in some people there is a time and limit when people can stay sane. In certain circumstances they simply crack.
Jessica almost like a scheduled routine stripped of her mucky clothes and loaded them one by one into the washing machine including bracelets, hair bands and shoes. She sit naked on the floor clenching both folded arms watching intensely the clothes spin, round and round. Millions of scenarios and thousands of horrid thoughts tortured her brain. She couldn’t take one thought at a time; a conscience is portrayed as a ridiculous green cricket in child films. But really the conscience is one of the most dangerous and compelling tools humans possess. It’s the control button to our helter-skelter lives.
Jessica look up with soft eyes. A picture of the two of them, her sixth birthday. The intense irony laughing her in the face. Giggling at each other, there faces smiling and smothered with traces of chocolate cake and goodies. The miniature picture clasped in plastic dangling from her overfilling purse. They had been more like sisters. They knew everything about each other. They had been through everything with each other. Jessica was always the dominant one. She knew what she said goes. They were part of each other. If they liked it or not.
She sobbed at the thought of that day. How they were then and how they had been recently. Things change. They both hated change. Insecure and now alone she could not come to grips quite yet that her best friend was really outside like that on her patio floor. A warm tear ran off her cheek and onto her breast. She shivered with cold.
As she stepped into her bath and lay shutting her eyes, shutting off her thoughts and taking a single breath before submersing completely under the water, like she must have done when she was a little child. She smiled, she was thinking about a time when she was alone with mike. She loved him so much. Jessica had been with him for a year. Her recall lept instantly and a rush of jealousy and anger hit her hard. She saw him. She saw her with him. The two people she loved most together. Her heart beating fast and an attempt to pull herself together she took a deep breath and dipped down so the water covered her face.
Except she panicked, she felt my hand on her head forcing her down. Her gasps of absolute fear and terror powerless of consequence. Still. Her eyes open wide – gazing up, glazed over.
Observations
Jessica took one deep breath and froze in pure panic at what she could see. The blood ran in pretty patterns as the rain carried it in mini streams twisting to her feet. She was horrified. She could not believe her eyes.
Her best friend lay sprawled over the patio floor; her arms were peculiarly bent and twisted like a sparrows legs when stiff on a motorway. Her hair, drab and dull like her character in life. No one would miss her would they? I wonder if anyone will even notice! The entire shape and expression would have made a twisted artist’s delight. But most chilling of all that cold face. Her eyes open wide – gazing up at her, glazed over. Jessica could neither think nor speak, she just stand in a frozen image looking down. It felt like a lifetime. What could she do?
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it off with her hand, that’s when the real panic hit her. When, a red hand print was left on her face, scarring her. Branded. Short bursts of breath and tight pains, like stab wounds piercing her chest took her from the scene, through the patio doors and into the kitchen where she reach into her pocket for her blue ventilator. As the breathing become more controlled and the pains ease away, the guilt slowly fill her soul like a sponge. Soaking in such uncontrollable emotions she had never felt before. She was overwhelmed and above all scared.
The water ran off her hands and the washing up bowl shimmered pink. She dipped her entire face in the water and her hands vigorously scratch at her stained cheek with a nail brush. Her own blood, dripping from her face yet now she cannot tell the difference.
I suppose in some people there is a time and limit when people can stay sane. In certain circumstances they simply crack.
Jessica almost like a scheduled routine stripped of her mucky clothes and loaded them one by one into the washing machine including bracelets, hair bands and shoes. She sit naked on the floor clenching both folded arms watching intensely the clothes spin, round and round. Millions of scenarios and thousands of horrid thoughts tortured her brain. She couldn’t take one thought at a time; a conscience is portrayed as a ridiculous green cricket in child films. But really the conscience is one of the most dangerous and compelling tools humans possess. It’s the control button to our helter-skelter lives.
Jessica look up with soft eyes. A picture of the two of them, her sixth birthday. The intense irony laughing her in the face. Giggling at each other, there faces smiling and smothered with traces of chocolate cake and goodies. The miniature picture clasped in plastic dangling from her overfilling purse. They had been more like sisters. They knew everything about each other. They had been through everything with each other. Jessica was always the dominant one. She knew what she said goes. They were part of each other. If they liked it or not.
She sobbed at the thought of that day. How they were then and how they had been recently. Things change. They both hated change. Insecure and now alone she could not come to grips quite yet that her best friend was really outside like that on her patio floor. A warm tear ran off her cheek and onto her breast. She shivered with cold.
As she stepped into her bath and lay shutting her eyes, shutting off her thoughts and taking a single breath before submersing completely under the water, like she must have done when she was a little child. She smiled, she was thinking about a time when she was alone with mike. She loved him so much. Jessica had been with him for a year. Her recall lept instantly and a rush of jealousy and anger hit her hard. She saw him. She saw her with him. The two people she loved most together. Her heart beating fast and an attempt to pull herself together she took a deep breath and dipped down so the water covered her face.
Except she panicked, she felt my hand on her head forcing her down. Her gasps of absolute fear and terror powerless of consequence. Still. Her eyes open wide – gazing up, glazed over.