feedback please
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:31pm
Thread Topic: feedback please
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"A report has just been made that a 2008 Honda Fit has been discovered off of Grove Drive in Dalston. Three people were found at the scene. One was a middle-aged woman who was ejected from the car, found forty feet from the crash. She was dead before the officers even arrived. The second to be seen was a man around the same age as the female. He was automatically rushed to Saint Wittmores Hospital due to the severity of his wounds. The most heartbreaking find was a teenage boy, bloodied, though mysteriously unharmed except for a few scrapes and scratches. He was trembling with something that could only be described as pure fear."
"Scottie, did you hear me? Eggs, milk, and a few things for yourself?" the man asked, running a slightly wrinkled hand through his salt and pepper hair, his eyebrows knitting together tightly due to worry. His other hand was extended, holding a ten dollar bill. His son nodded with understanding, snapping out of whatever daze he had previously been caught in as he gently pulled the cash from his fathers hand.
"Eggs and milk. I've got it, Papa," Scottie answered, patting the arm of his fathers wheelchair to signal that he would be making his departure. He turned on his heel, stepping downstairs with no signs of emotion. Before the small-framed male left the average-sized home, he was sure to grab his sweater from the hook beside the door, figuring that it would be nippy. He placed the miniscule amount of cash into his pocket as soon as he pulled the top over his head.
Thankfully, the two lived across the street of their favorite, preferred convenience store. As he walked, he was obviously preoccupied with his internal thoughts. He nibbled on his fingernail, staring at the cement with worried eyes.
"The car was incredibly damaged, facing not one, not two, but three flips. The front faced more damage than the back, however, leaving the two adults with more injuries than the boy."
The lovely little bell rang out as Scottie headed into the establishment. He browsed the aisles for an amount of time before deciding to get what the house actually needed. He was capable of finding a carton of eighteen eggs, but when he made his way to the milk section, his desired type was nowhere to be seen. He huffed angrily, searching for a few minutes. Eventually, he gave up with a upset sigh.
When he turned away from the assortment of cartons and gallons, something all-too-familiar caught his eye. A man stood, tall and with a serious type of demeanor. His eyes were soft, a baby blue color that gave the impression that the man was friendly and kind. What caused Scottie to stare was not the style of the mans hair, but the outlandish color, which was like that of a wilting red rose.
"Even though the officers attempted pulling information from the boy, the only thing that he could remember about crash was the sight of fiery red hair. He couldnt say anything after he revealed that slight detail about the suspects appearance."
The young boy only glared, not daring to say a word. He silently shuffled past the man, completing his routine when it came to paying for the groceries. As he exited the store, he gave one last look to the other, his nostrils flaring. He knew that hair anywhere, and he wasnt prepared to let the monster slip so easily.
And so the next day, he asked his father for two dollars for a loaf of bread. Nothing appeared to be suspicious about this, and Scotties dad handed him the money with no questions. Just as expected, when the boy returned to the store at the same time, he was there, then examining the display of car fresheners. Satisfied, Scottie bought the bread as he said he would, and left. The day after that, he found another excuse to visit the store. One day it would be that the butter was running low, the next it would be that the porch light needed a new light bulb. With his father basically living on the second floor, confined to the wheelchair, he could say nearly whatever he wanted, and as long as it was reasonable, he would be given the amount of money necessary. This went on for quite a period of time, and once it came to an end, Scottie was aware that it was the time to strike.
"The injured man has been identified as Doctor Kyle Morrison, a veterinarian at Paws Medical Center. The community has relied on Doctor Morrison for a number of years, now, and seeing their beloved doctor in such a state has rattled them."
Since he was positive that the man would be there any day at two o'clock in the afternoon, Scottie spent three days devising a strategic, perfect plan. He ventured into the dark, cold space known as the basement, searching through his fathers medical supplies. Mr. Morrison had thankfully been an on-the-call doctor, so many of his items remained at the home. One thing that the male had recalled his father mentioning numerous times was a drug known as Ketamine, a medicine used to calm animals, or even to put them to sleep. "Ketamine, where's the Ketamine?" he would always say.
As soon as Scottie collected what he would need, his last required item was thirty-five dollars in cash. He set his alarm for eight in the morning, a time when he knew that his father would be snoring like a grizzly bear on anaesthetics.
When he awoke the next morning, he silently stepped into the master bedroom, his feet barely making a sound. He easily took the money, scurrying downstairs like the mouse that he was. He knew that his papa would need breakfast in an hour or so, and then it would be a matter of waiting for the correct time frame.
He went about his daily routine, ecstatic when the moment had finally come. He left without a word or a warning, rushing to the convenience store that he knew so well. Once inside, many items were taken off of the shelf, such as bulky soup cans and heavy foods. He would only go to pay once he saw that the man was doing so, as well. He checked at the self-checkout lane beside the register that Red stood at. As soon as everything was put away and paid for, Scottie cleverly feigned being overcome with weakness. He struggled to leave the store with the weight that he held. Just as planned, Red noticed him and with a sympathetic smile, rushed over to help the boy.
"Here, allow me to take those," the adult stated, plucking some of the bags away.
You're guilty, and you know it, and now you're trying to make it up, aren't you? Scottie cooed away, in his own mind.
"I live in the house across the street, if you would be so kind to take the bags over there?" Red gave a nod.
"I can do that, for sure." The two then took off, at the front door within a matter of only a minute. Scottie pushed his way in, leading the silly-looking man into the kitchen. As he explained where to place the items, the younger male fetched his weapon of choice from the hardly-used pantry, turning with his tool behind his back. -
yes continue writing the thing please
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I will, just later. It's not due for a little while.
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