Thoughts jumble in my head,
like static in my brain,
I paw at each idea,
Testing fate before I get consumed
by the mess of our future.
I am torn between peace and hurt.
I can't decide, forgiveness or pain,
in this tempermental tug-of-war.
I am too tired -weak- to fight,
I just want to slam the door of our past,
seal the memories inside,
Bowling Green, Ohio
|About the author of "Indecision". Dedicated to Matt, with that indecison still in my heart. Breaking up is hard but there is no better inspiration for good poetry. This is my third poem published on TeenLit. "Dieu merci pour les poemes." --Halley
I turn to look behind me
One last hesitation, one last glance
And I see you
burning burning burning
And I cannot look away.
Burning, a martyr of your vanity
The flames devouring your emaciated body
Burning, your soul ravished and scarred
Your perfectionist ideals your downfall
Burning, you pleasure in the pain
Emancipation painting a smile on your flaming lips.
Nothing was ever thin enough
Nothing ever pale enough, hollow enough, dead enough
Nothing was ever too painful as you strove for those unattainable goals.
A tear burns a path down my cheek
Looking at your determined face
So gaunt, so ashen, so dead
Burnt and scarred and dead
I weep for that face
And for the face it once was.
But as tears slip down my face
And as the fire becomes one with your soul
And as the flames rip away your pale skin
You are thinking, "What a way to burn calories."
This poem was inspired by a friend's struggle with anorexia.
You sit in a crowd
Either way, you're all alone
Deaf to the world and detached
No one seems to notice
Only vaguely aware of the life surrounding you
Eyes fixed in a dim, sightless daze
Shrouded by the dark veil of a widow
Mourning her own dead soul
Someone in the crowd shouts playfully
Arousing you momentarily from a conscious sleep
Attempting a weak smile but your eyes betray
You speak words to appease
Uttered softly and sedately
Through lips of stale air
I see the pain in your smile
The emptiness of you gaze
Hear the despair in your voice
I feel the heavy clouds pressing around you
The confused and lost child wandering
Caught in the tangled web
Silently crying for freedom
|About The Author:
Kristen is a Freshman at Sammamish High School. She is on the staff of CHAOS/IMPULSE, her school/district's literary arts magazine. She has a passion for God and her greatest love is the understanding of people. This is her first poem ever submitted for publishing and only her third ever written.
your teeth are sharp
as your words bite me
my vomit is thick
with the lies you force-fed me
your claws draw blood
as you take my hand
my thigh gushes red
where you carved your initials
your sweet words
cannot disguise the sourness of your breath
your synthetic smile
contorts your face
i can see the truth
that's hidden behind your eyes
At Times she is ignored
Branded by her age
dismissed as immaturity
"it's nothing but a stage"
A phase of youth and impatience
nothing but a child
Illegal in their world
over-bold and wild
About the author of Age...
My name is Neveen, i live In Cairo Egypt...at the moment i am studying abroad. I am Cuban-American-Egyptian and i love to write poetry... my poems are very short...most of them are...
you're caught staring
right through me
so easily pleased
without the moon
to guide my travels
to light my way
hunger pains just not the same
tucked in with old photos
are my memories
unreal as imagination
still means i'm not insane
floating away so slowly
|About The Author:
my name's charity i'm from 16/f from pennsylvania, i love writing and music, rock on!
Although you're gone,
Your're always here,
Inside my heart,
Reflected in every tear,
I ask Him why,
You're time was up?
Why it was you,
That must give up,
A life on earth,
A thousand grins,
Time to grow,
And be with your friends,
Why it was you?
Who lost everything?
And why a person like me,
Has so much to gain?
Why i was given the chance to grow?
Why you , of all,
Were cheated so?
Why did He take the one who cared?
The one so precious,
The one so rare?
I ask Him why ,
Life isn't fair,
No matter how hard I search,
The answer is never there.
|About the author of Why. I am a sophmore in high school, and wrote this poem after a friend confided her feelings in me concerning her relative's suicide.
And Be One Traveler, Long I Stood
In failed successful failure I tried
Fell through the reaches of man
Into the grip of some un-believed power
Back into the pillowed hand
Thence back into my own mind's chaos
Seeking answers, finding only truth
On a quest for knowledge, gaining only wisdom
From the head of experience, blossoming reality
Light through the rabbit hole extinguishes
As a newly matched candle lights the path
Shadowed fog only deepens the journey,
Merely extends the understanding smirk
My thread of madness and genius winds on the same twine
And looking down as far as I could, a sailor
The specks only describe what they learned
I shall be telling this with a sigh, they say
The only thing you can achieve
Is immortality in a mortal society
Mont Belvieu, Texas
|About the author of And Be One Traveler, Long I Stood. I'm 16 and I have other writing on this site. Many of the lines of this poem come from "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost- that helps to understand some of it more.
You're wrong to look at a person's face
Then turn your head fast with disgrace
To not like or even judge a man
Because the color of his skin is not the color of your hand
To not let your children play with the next child
Because it was installed in you, the darker the person the more it is wild
A n#@@$% is a man with less education
But your reaction gives me this accusation
You're in the same position as I am
And your education is weighted less than a gram
Yes I'm a n#@@$%, but with more determination
From way back when Lincoln signed the emancipation proclamation
So who am I to stop your judgement
From the first gun shot, to the last bomb hit
My ancestors had to fight long and hard
And threw it all we still are scarred
From the back of the bus to let freedom ring
From slavery and whips to lift every voice and sing
We have come to far and we're not going to fall
We're not going to stop till we give our all
I'm the same as you, an eye for an eye a tooth for a tooth
But It's our population that went to a flaming poof
Yes, blacks are killing blacks every minute every day
But you kill with your tongue, the harsh words you say
We honor our stripes, we have fought a long fight
We comfort our souls, we thank God for his might
You see this racism or black and white thing
Needs to be stopped, you know what I mean
My grandparents at the top of their voice had to scream
Thank God all mighty let freedom ring
And just like King's dream
It's reality you have just seen
About the author of Racism.
I am a young black author with much respect to other young authors. I love to read and write.
Writing allows me to express my deepest feelings on certain subjects. It is a form of art a form of intense flexibility with your mind. Poetry enhanced my vocabulary totally. It is my inspiration, it is my everything. Thank you teenlit.com for allowing me to send in a piece of my wriiting.
is the soul
for a friend.
A constant, dull ache
Value needs proving;
a way of life.
Pity the new way
to be human.
Dreaming of unconditional love
more than deserved...
Strategy to keep from being
Fort Kent, Maine
|About the author of Restless. This is my first submission to Teenlit, so if you don't like it, I don't care. It makes me proud, and that's all that really matters when it comes to poetry, right? Anyway, my life consists of writing such poems, finding a porm in every living aspect, and overthinking every situation way too much. I'm sure all you true poets know exactly what I mean.
within you I could die and you’d not shed a tear for me
I’ve known what is to be the best of my life, let it fill me
I’ll be at peace with your touch
I’m not afraid anymore
I’ll be at peace, for once, with the future
sweet fate embrace me
I come with open heart and soul
Tell me without a word that you return my call
for you have not words to sooth my nerves,
but just the thought of you makes me rise
be there not thorns on every rose bush?
this one has touched my blood and oozed it out
there is ecstasy behind all that hurts us
our eyes could be blinded by what is meant to be pure
and manifesting your destiny is only the beginning
so take to you my everlasting mystery
which I hold within for none to share with
and even if your heart not be sweet to my lips
I shall bite them until mourning
you may gasp at what I pledge for you,
stupid girl, you say, you can do so much better
all the while you’re not listening when I say
all I want is you
I never expect to get anything back
but a mind full of hurt and worry
I’ve given up on you being my Romeo so keep being
and somehow this completes me?
I cannot explain it any better than you can
would it help if I told you I love you! I love you!
one more time I LOVE YOU!
I think not, but you know it’s always true
how every time I say it, I mean it more and more
you used to call me your soul mate
must you give up on my soul and yours so quickly?
so blind I am left as the birds sing to heaven
and heaven I need not when I posses your soul
some were put here for the ultimate task:
the finalization of others; nothing more, nothing less
to create ascendancy where once it was weak
it is you, you for me, me inside you
winds of your breath could never blow my heart down
this is all I ask, may you live on for me
you call me selfish, but all I want is you
selfish I may be, I’ll never give you up
mark my word, but always trust your heart
and if you do not want me, tell me so
even if your mind tells you take it, take it!
She’s all you have, take it, damn you take it!
She says she’ll be there for you, believe it! You know you
If you must, be insensitive, break me down, make me cry
subliminally you’ll want me gone
for both our benefits supposedly
and I’ll hate you
I’ll hate how much I love you
I’ll hate that I don’t hate you at all
I’ll hate that you said you love me back, but you thought
it could never be
what’s a thought when I pledge my future to you?
be it forever or instant death, everything or nothing, I’ll
never break this
consciously take my hand, but always trust your heart
I’m there all the way, believe it or not
Understand me please, be with me forever
selfish? Yes for I have it all but all I want is you
don’t you get it? This means nothing to me
without you I am never whole, I am never, was never,
could never be entire
Listen to what I have to say, but always trust your heart
may it lead you down the right path
may the right path lead to me
because I, I’d do anything for you
just to prove what I say is true
I’d believe in god just so I could swear to him my profound love for you
then I’d say a prayer for us to always be together
I’m not making this up
why do you think I’m always tired?
Only because the thought of looking into your eyes forever keeps me awake at night
it hurts when you say you care and then
it seems you just ignore me
lately you’re never there
so why is it that ever since I fell in love with you
I can relate to almost every sad, sappy love song on the market
but that’s not me, that’s not you, that’s not us
and I could write you a million sonnets and sing you a million of those love
but until I knew you wanted to hear it, my mind and my voice could never be
I tell you this is it, I’ve gotten it all figured out
you and me, are simply meant to be
I’m going to tell you a secret but please don’t ever hold it against me
because the truth is I’ve never been so confused and scared in my whole life
as I am when I think of us
because I’m nothing by myself, but you make me feel like something
I wish this passion would die down, it seems I’m saying the same thing all
for it all boils down to this: just one question for you:
nothing, or something?
|About The Author:
About the author of Gasp. My name is Jess and I'm a freshman at Salem High School in Plymouth, MI. I enjoy writing, reading, painting, drawing, acting, singing and playing the piano in my spare time and I love music of all types.
Stolen through the eyes of maturity,
Nature has lost everything it ever held within itself.
Dreary decimation of foretold dreams,
Laid weakened in the uncertainty of mistaken intentions.
Scarlet light tears sacred fragments within the atmosphere,
As never before has the little boy felt more alone.
The façade remains ambivalent and stoic forever,
As a shattered heart bursts across the sky in agonizing pain.
Falling into the bitter darkness that is the accompaniment of death itself,
All the while staring into the blundering heart that receives his love.
For someday has come too soon and too quickly,
And his frightened stoicism is left naked for the world to see.
A serenade piercing the heart of a lost spirit,
Driving forsaken emotion to his unquantifiable nature,
He has been left here with nothing but his own,
Cursing the sky and that of whom have loved him.
The red around his eyes has blinded his heart,
With suicide running peacefully into the nature of becoming.
His outspoken passion is clouded by the ideologies of redemption,
Forty thousand hearts beating in synchrony without a sound,
Shying away from confrontation the inevitable is ever closer.
Freeing the mind of liberty from the heart of passion,
Speared into the believing that peace is attainable,
Yet his freedom lasts in his message,
Together in bliss and the pain of a dog of society.
So sacred and yet so sudden,
the inner collision of compromise rates like none other.
It has finally finished.
The menial shortcomings of a nation gathered for war of unforeseen proportions,
Unready for the impact of what they cannot admit.
All sincerity is lost as the aspect of humanity and respect and courtesy has died.
The shortcomings of a nation mount within the hearts of men,
Outspoken about politics they do not understand and will never understand.
For there is a greater strength that leaves us here all alone,
There are so many of us and yet we are all alone.
Antipathy for your fellow man,
This is the nature of humanity-to single out and destroy all that is desired.
The cries of children no longer phase me,
Instead the eyes of children are what blind me.
Stolen from the world,
There is nothing left tangible except this kiss which steals the hearts of men.
Our only gift is our only hope.
The battle across the sky has broken out:
Departures from human reason have caused this.
The ever-mounting force has broken his spirit.
Falling to the earth like shards of imploding light,
His tears tear throughout the landscape,
Suffering the tranquility of a bomb scare.
The sound had originally come from the world of fallen dreams;
A creation of false hope holding the world like Atlas.
Fading sprites defeat the eager dreams of the little boy-the one who can see the wind.
The daylight fires across the sky,
Piercing his soul as eternity has awoken,
He does not deserve this but will receive it nonetheless.
The powerless electricity drowns the peace,
Sparking terror among the masses,
Burning what they love.
But the boy stands in the field of sin, exposing his fear of the
he cries in bursts of deceit towards the gates of Heaven, fighting his
drawings of dramatic decimation. He realizes that he will do anything to save her in this world of endless strife. He sours his face in a pragmatic atheism that fills the air.
The drama has ended.
Here in this immortal fear of torturous pain,
The dreams of the people have ceded with no possible explanation.
Today it all ends.
Life within my heart spoiled with the desires of desperate tears,
Given into the society of innate drear,
Explodes in shards of apathy.
Sudden blindness has covered my heart,
The result of a broken spirit screaming across the sky driven through
the pacifism of humanity.
No one sees it but I hope that the will soon.
Giants standing on my shoulders,
Carried for miles in feral fear.
The entire system has fallen apart only to come back together again, and eventually,
Fall apart again.
The war may end,
But what we believe will never change and with this we are left alone until the next conflict.
Since we do not seek, we do not destroy,
Until we are shot at.
Shortcomings of a war unpublished, and unrehearsed,
The beauty of a serenade in midwinter.
Useless trivia spoken by little children who would not understand anything if they were not told.
Like the power of Guernica we are helpless to the pleas of these crass children.
For they do not understand the dreary terror that awaits them,
From the reformation of man to the birth of women,
This world will never see another.
Unspoken, unwritten, and unexplained.
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
One More Step
I came to the cliff. Finally, finally, I'd run far enough to get away.
Gasping for breath, holding my side in an effort to massage the vicious cramp that had grown in my muscles away, I looked out over the endless horizon and contemplated my decision.
There was nothing behind me; nothing but weeds and darkness and a forest maze that led me nowhere. But ahead, oh ahead into the dawning light and into the boundless cloud formations and sunlight…There were possibilities.
New people, new places, new ideas and inventions. New things to discover, new ways to live! But still, I hesitated taking that step, that plunge into oblivion because what if it were all a play on words? What if the future was worse than the past? What if the darkness behind me was actually the right path and if I did leap into the heavens…What then? Would I be eternally happy, alone and in the light of a new world? Or eternally miserable, without the love and comfort of friends through trying times?
I didn't know. As my breathing came to a slow, gradual pace and I was able to stand without stooping over, thoughts raced through my mind with brute force. "Go!" shouted a voice. "Go, live your life as you want it; happily, in the stars' shine and the galaxies' glow." Another voice, softer but with more conviction taunted me with its bell-like charm. "Caitlin, Caitlin…You know you want this, you know you want to go and take that fleeting step into your future. For once you've found direction, for once you've found the hidden path…What are you waiting for?" And still, another voice urged me to turn back and return to my wandering, to my wondering; to my pointless way of life.
I sat down, held my back straight and closed my eyes. One might have thought I was meditating had they happened across me, but that was not my intent.
No; instead, I was only listening. Listening to the sounds around me, to my heart pumping the life through my veins, to the winds rustling the leaves and blades of grass around me. I was listening for the answer to my strife.
After a long while of sitting in silent contemplation, I opened my eyes to the setting sun and stood. Hands crossed behind my back I took a step closer to the edge, so that my toes just floated above the empty space below.
Looking down, my throat closed and my lungs tightened and for a second I thought I was going to faint…But instead I turned around, looking again into the forest and took a step.
The sound of air rushing past my ears was deafening. I kept my eyes closed but my mouth gaped open in a dumbfounded scream. I never hit the ground—I still haven't hit the ground. My decision to take my life into my own hands has led me here…A place that cannot be described in words, pictures, or emotions. It only exists in the mind, the most complex place in all of the universes combined.
I took that step backwards in order to see my past, so as not to influence my future. I'd seen pain, seen hatred and childishness in petty gossip and superficial lifestyles. I knew that in my next phase of life I wanted something more, something beneficial to my soul, to my heart as a human being.
And you know what, I'm still running in the air. Still gasping for breath. Still flying free in the formations of the clouds and sunlight.
|About the author of "One More Step;" There's not much to say. I just move from day to day to day, trying to find one more inspirational thing to write about. I'm 16 years old, about to become a junior in h.s. in the fall (how scary!!) and trying to make the people in my life understand how much they mean to me.
The Blue Moon Child
Long ago, when time was new and magic old, man and beast lived together in harmony. Each called the other friend and the universe was in balance. But one day, the first harsh word was said. No one can remember who it was that said it first, but soon all were filled with hurt, hate and jealousy. Each side blamed the other for what had happed to the once peaceful land and war broke out between man and beast. It was a long and hard fight that ended in the loss of some of the most wonderful beasts to ever roam the Earth. The fairy, the elf, the griffin, the unicorn and the powerful dragon. Man mourned for only a short time at the loss that they had caused, and through guilt soon turned these great animals into myth and legend. But the animal kingdom did not forget and even to this day, man is not trusted.
This story is not about the present, but of the past, of those years when the war between man and beast was still strong and new. This is the true story of what happened to all the mystical animals that used to live among us. This story is only to tell the tale of the past, not to take one side or the other. For this is the true tale of the Last Battle.
Moya was an ordinary young girl. She lived on a small farm with her parents and older brother. Times were bad and the entire family had to work hard and long to produce what little food that would grow on their small plot of land. This was the lifestyle that Moya was used to and it taught her many skills. She was a child of the meadow, the trees and of the night. For that was the only time that Moya had to herself. When the sun went down and the farm was asleep, wrapped in a crimson cloak of darkness and stars Moya would leave her small cottage and run through the meadow and into the lush forest just beyond. And every night, there under the moon and shadows, Moya would join the Forest Fairies.
The Forest Fairies adored Moya, for she had a good heart, and fairies always know the good from the bad. Even though fairies never venture far out of their forest and generally hide from humans, once in a blue moon, fairies will befriend a human child, for they are still young and accept things as they are. And so, being a blue moon child, Moya was allowed to dance the Fire Dance and drink the flower's nectar and sit and listen to the fairy's stories until she fell asleep inside the fairy ring.
So it went for many years. Moya always stayed gentle and kind and the fairies always accepted her into their nighttime carnivals. But one spring night, when Moya was of fourteen years, she had to tell her forest friends that she could no longer join in their festivals. This worried the fairies and they asked her why. Through sobs and tears, Moya explained that she and her brother were to be sent to Lucster Castle to work under the king in his new royal orchard. The fairies were greatly saddened by this and decided to give Moya a gift so that she would never forget them. And so, the fairies then made her a beautiful necklace of ivy with a white flower bud handing delicately from the bottom. The fairies then slipped the necklace over her head and as soon as it touched the skin if her neck, the bud bloomed into a flower of moonlight white and the ivy transformed into a purer silver than man could ever make. The fairies then told Moya never to forget the stories that she was told!
The nights when she visited, and Moya vowed that not only would she never forget, but that she would pass the stories on to her children and they to theirs.
That very day, Moya and her brother were taken from her home her fairy friends to live the rest of her life in Lucster Castle, working hard as a servant to King Keenan. But she would never forget the fairy's stories or take off her necklace.
Never again did Moya see her fairy friends that lived in the forest beyond her old home, but that was not the end of her adventures with the mystic beasts that lived deep within the forests of the world.
The Cold Hand
I saw the masked man walk to the door and turn the knob. Looking over his shoulder to see if any one was looking, he walked into the small shed.
Marie, who was very scared, ran into there to get away from him. Moving forward now, I could see where Marie was hiding. The masked man did too. I was scared and afraid to breathe. The blood was pumping as I entered the shed. I shouldn’t be doing this. My palms were sweaty and my heart was pumping as fast as a speeding train full of burning coal. It was loud, my heart, and I thought everyone could hear it. The man pointed his gun at the shaking pile of hay. I held my breath… and then everything went black.
* * * * *
“What?” I gasped for air. He had turned off the TV.
I stared at my hand, and then at his which lay so neatly on the wooden table. My adopted son smiled cleverly. Man he was good.
“Whatta you got?” he asked like he was Mr. Slick ‘n Cool.
I flopped my hand on the table. “ Nada,” I sighed.
“I’ll set it up,” Jason said as he said as he gathered up the cards.
“I’ll get it,” my son said as he jumped out of his chair. “It might be Tony.”
I gathered the cards and started to shuffle. I thought about the movie on TV. I wondered what happened to Marie. I heard my son murmuring in the background.
“Okay,” I yelled as I came to the phone. “Yes?” I asked the mysterious caller at 10:15. “Oh hello. Yeah…oh…where? Oh, let me get a pen.” I sat down the phone.
“Who is it ?” my son asked.
I held up my finger telling him to wait a minute. I picked up the phone.
“Okay, got a pen. Oh, paper…alright, got it, …shoot…yeah…okay…uh-huh…” I scribbled down what the man on the phone told me. “Alright,” I said. “Got it. Okay, I’ll get Matt McVey…okay, thank you.” I hung up the phone and looked at my son.
“What?” he asked quizzically.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Who was it?”
“ That was my boss’s replacement. There has been a murder.”
He looked at me with those “please don’t go and abandon me” eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I shrugged. “It’s my job.”
* * * * *
Matt was waiting outside when I drove up.
“Hey,” he said as he hopped in the car. “Where to?”
“ What? He didn’t tell you?” I asked as I turned a corner.
“Well,… we are going to a warehouse at 1496 Alco Way. There seems to be a double homicide.”
“Details please,” he said as he started to write it down.
“Um… the first one was shot and the second one…,”
“Yeah, two…double homicide.”
“That’s right,” he nodded.
The second one was beaten and strangled,” I said as my eyes wandered for the street. “Female.” I looked at my partner that was busy looking through his briefcase. Ah, found it. We arrived at the warehouse and were greeted by a deputy.
“Where’s my boss?” I asked the deputy.
“The Bahamas,” he replied bluntly.
I raised my eyebrow.
“Mr. John White is filling in for him. He’s from the capital. Great man. He wants you to go around to the other side of building B. That way,” he pointed to the right.
“Thank you,” I said as I started to drive off. I rounded the corner and saw flashing lights and many police cars.
“I guess this is it,” Matt said. We got out of the car and walked to where there seemed to be a gathering.
I spun around to see a stocky man. I read the nametag, John White. “Why hello, what do we got?” I asked.
“Got your stuff?” he asked
I went back to my convertible and brought my cases of things.
“In here Walker,” he replied. He led me inside the warehouse. Everywhere there were huge blocks of ice. I reached out to touch the slippery, cold surface of it. Just as I was about to my partner came up behind me and slapped my hand away.
“What?” I asked a little angry.
“It’s dry ice. Don’t touch, not without gloves on,” he said with wide eyes.
He had gloves on.
“Okay, here we are. There seems to… be… a forensics team here already? Well, right this way you,” he said, I guess a little ticked off. Now where we walked, crates were knocked over, and it looked like someone was running away. Then I saw her. Mangled and lying on the floor. I held my camera up to my eye to shoot pictures.
“Here, take this,” I handed my camera to my partner.
Mr. White looked up. “Who are you?” he snapped.
“Oh, this is my partner, Matt McVey,” I replied.
Mr. White looked at him top to bottom. “Hum.”
My partner turned to me. I shrugged.
“Okay, hop to it,” he said as he left to yell at someone else, I guess.
“Do you have any Black Powder? I’ll take fingerprints on the crates,” my partner said while studying the crates.
I handed him the powder. “Wait, you need a brush.”
“Oh yeah,” he said as he came back for it. He walked off.
I knelt down to the body and started collecting samples of her cloths and also her hair which could be useful to see where she had been and maybe what she had touched. In the process, I found fragments of clothes and other outside things. Around her I saw similar fibers. Also on the victim’s neck, wrist, and other parts of her body where she had been hit, was some kind of hair gel or after-shave. I put the evidence in plastic bags and labeled them. I wrote my observations on my clipboard and took some notes. I checked my watch, 10:52. Oh no! I pulled out my cell phone and dialed home. I waited for my son to pick up and I saw a block of ice that was uncovered. On it I saw a handprint.
“Hey, I only got her fingerprints.”
I hung up and turned around to find my partner standing there with fingerprints.
“Come here,” I said as I squatted down near the block of ice. He came over.
For some reason something was wrong. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded and squatted down next to me. There was a handprint on the block of ice. I looked closer and saw that there weren’t any fingerprints. I sighed. I thought that there could have been fingerprints from the killer.
But as I looked closer, I saw that there was… skin!
“Oh my gosh, look,” I said in amazement as I tapped my partner.
“What?” he asked looking closer.
“Right there… skin,” I said putting my finger by it.
“We got your suspects down at the station,” said a booming voice.
We stood up and turned around. John White was there. Great, just the man I want to see.
“Okay. Be there in a bit,” I said. Since I couldn’t lift the prints or the skin, I took pictures of it. “Let’s go,” I said as I gathered my things.
* * * * *
The station was packed with people. We went to the holding cell and checked out the suspects. There was the janitor, the guard of the building A, and one of the workers. Their alibis were considerable and they all seemed innocent. Plus, none of their skin was missing from their hands.
* * * * *
Looking through the microscope, I looked at the fibers and hairs. Nothing on the killer. But, then I found one fiber from something wool. Since I didn’t find one hair from the killer, he might have been wearing a wool cap. I then went to my darkroom to develop the negatives.
* * * * *
As I rolled the film onto the reel, I heard the door knob creek. I panicked.
Oh no! No! Light flooded the room. Filled with anger and fear, I screamed, “Close the door!!”
The door closed, but it was too late. The film was ruined. I went to the revolving door, spun around and found my partner standing there.
“Sorry,” he replied.
“It was a mistake,” I said trying to hide that I wanted to scream and yell at him.
“ We have enough evidence you know,” he said trying to help, but it sounded phony.
“Yeah, but you just destroyed half of it,” I said a little more ticked off.
He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I spun around and turned my arm sideways and knocked his hand off of my shoulder and when I did that, I hit him in the head.
“Are you okay?” I asked looking at his head.
“You need to get some sleep, you look tired and act tired,” my partner studied me.
I squeezed my temple on my forehead. I had a big headache. I breathed deeply through my nose. Then I smelled something. What was it? I smelled my hand again. It smelled like the stuff on the body. Still smelling my hand, I saw something that made my neck go stiff with fear. I stopped breathing. Was I going to be next??
* * * * *
I walked out of the courtroom. Reporters swarmed around me.
“How did you find out that your partner did it?” asked a reporter.
“Well,” I replied. “When I smelled his hair gel on my hand I thought it was him. Then I saw his hand was missing the same skin that was on the block of ice in the warehouse.”
“Why did he do it?” asked another reporter.
“Well, he said that he killed the first one, the guard that was currently on duty, so he could steal the millions of dollars they got from the Broadway hit “Cats” that was coming into town. The show had bought the dry ice ahead of time and paid for it. Mr. McVey wanted to steal that money. But an unexpecting wife with take-out food saw the murder and was chased down to where she was beaten and strangled. Oh, no more questions please. If you want to know the rest… buy my book.”
Mrs. Walker wrote her book about her story which became a bestseller. The newsstory was splashed across the headlines. Mrs. Walker is still working as a Criminology Detective and is still losing at Gin..
|About the author of Jess:
Hi! This is my frist short story ever and i love writing mysteries. When i grow up, i want to be a forensic detective, like the main character.