Remember my Short Story post that I did awhile ago? I decided to do another one like it. I used the same intro as my short story, but I added the word January. It’s kind of a mystery, although it never got solved. (I was going for creepy, because Halloween is just around the corner) Here goes!
As I walked along the sidewalk on a dreary January day, droplets of rain clung to my sweatshirt as I hurried along, hunched over, trying to escape the threat of being cold. The rumble of thunder resounded in my ears as my sneakers made little splashes in mud puddles along the way. I could faintly smell coffee, but it was lost in the smell of gasoline from a car speeding by. When rain was falling harder, I reached out my hand to touch it, and when a single drop hit me it felt like a thousand needles were poking my skin. Thunder rumbled again as I started sprinting across the street, hoping that the thunderstorm would stop soon.
Lightning struck, and the whole sky lit up like a forest ablaze. Everything went dark once more; the clouds were still gray, there was no hope of the sun shining again. As I turned around, I saw someone in a dark hoodie dart across the street, just before a garbage truck came rumbling by. I glanced quickly from side to side, and then sprinted across the street. The mysterious figure glanced around, and ducked into an alleyway. Should I follow them? I thought so. Little did I know that my life was about to change. Forever.
As I burst into my house, rain splattered off my sweatshirt. I charged up to my bedroom to check what kind of camera I had. Yep, waterproof. I went back downstairs, (with my camera) grabbed some cheese, and went back outside. The cheese was smoked mozzarella. My favorite! I ate it while I was going to the alley where I saw the person duck into. Sure enough, there was mud. I followed their painfully obvious tracks, aware that someone was watching me. I tried to look normal and act natural, but hey, who walks into an alleyway and takes pictures of mud? Still, I tried to recompose myself. After all, I’m your typical person! If you call typical rooting through dumpsters.
Yes, that is what I was doing. There was a dumpster and I was looking through it. Now don’t get me wrong here. I was only looking for clues. In a dumpster? I was desperate. There was someone watching me, and I tried to, as I said before, act natural. Well, for me, digging through a dumpster is natural. I took pictures of everything that I found there. Some old pieces of paper, and lots of old pizza boxes. Even one still had pizza in it! Eew. I finally concluded that no one had been there, even though I still felt a pair of eyes boring holes into me. I trudged back home, aware of nothing that was about to happen.
When I opened the door of my house, everything was a wreck. The cabinets had most of their food spilled out, and the jar of honey was lying in 7 or 8 pieces on the floor. Chairs had been knocked over; plants had been uprooted from their perches. I started to walk upstairs, but a foreboding sense came over me. I ignored it, and climbed upstairs. My feet felt like lead against the carpet stairs. When I finally made it up there, the lead on my feet must have come off immediately. My bedroom door was hanging open, and my piggy bank was smashed on the floor. The covers had been ripped off my bed, and my trash can was knocked over. My little sister couldn’t have done this. It had to be someone else.