Post by ragikai on Feb 28, 2009 18:54:13 GMT -5
Occ: No Plans on Continuing. Tell me what you think...
“The Crime Scene is in the bathroom. Victims Name happens to be John F. Frenchmen. The Time of Death was at 4:30 am at January 10, 2005. The cause of death was surfer blood lost. Location of wound happens to be at the wrist. Cut marks cover his wrist, telling us that the murder weapon happens to be a knife. The room was sealed causing us to use a forced entrance. The room is a typical room, covered by walls and no windows of any sorts to be found. Sigh… I guess it was once again another suicide case…”
This story is a tragedy about a person named John F. Frenchmen who had everything going for him, until everything crashed down for his entire life. Now I’ll do something unoriginal by giving the baton to my good friend John and allow him to tell us all about the story. It all began five years ago at the city of New York. The city was lit up so brightly, it looked just like a Christmas Tree. Crystallized drops of rain slowly fell upon my shoulder. I walked against the drifted chunks of snow, plowed into a huge mound. I wore a brown leather jacket, along with brown jeans and black leather cap. The wind blew softly against my body as if it was pulling the back of my jacket. My cap began to getting heavier as a bit of snow slid down from my cap landing against my jacket. A yellow cab stopped beside me as a figure stepped out of the cab. I didn’t take glance back, in fact, I just continue my pace forward.
“You bitch! I can’t believe you did that to me!”
My eye shivered in fear, as I began to recognize the voice of the women. I twisted my body around, facing the women, who had half her body inside the cab and the other out. My voice quivered as I went on…
“Eh… EH… It’s U... You!”
Her lips motioned, as her body began to place the rest of her body inside of the cab, ending the conversation with the final words which still echoes through my mind. I could feel my hand gripping tighter foreseeing what was about to happen.
“The papers will appear in your desk tomorrow morning"
“The Crime Scene is in the bathroom. Victims Name happens to be John F. Frenchmen. The Time of Death was at 4:30 am at January 10, 2005. The cause of death was surfer blood lost. Location of wound happens to be at the wrist. Cut marks cover his wrist, telling us that the murder weapon happens to be a knife. The room was sealed causing us to use a forced entrance. The room is a typical room, covered by walls and no windows of any sorts to be found. Sigh… I guess it was once again another suicide case…”
This story is a tragedy about a person named John F. Frenchmen who had everything going for him, until everything crashed down for his entire life. Now I’ll do something unoriginal by giving the baton to my good friend John and allow him to tell us all about the story. It all began five years ago at the city of New York. The city was lit up so brightly, it looked just like a Christmas Tree. Crystallized drops of rain slowly fell upon my shoulder. I walked against the drifted chunks of snow, plowed into a huge mound. I wore a brown leather jacket, along with brown jeans and black leather cap. The wind blew softly against my body as if it was pulling the back of my jacket. My cap began to getting heavier as a bit of snow slid down from my cap landing against my jacket. A yellow cab stopped beside me as a figure stepped out of the cab. I didn’t take glance back, in fact, I just continue my pace forward.
“You bitch! I can’t believe you did that to me!”
My eye shivered in fear, as I began to recognize the voice of the women. I twisted my body around, facing the women, who had half her body inside the cab and the other out. My voice quivered as I went on…
“Eh… EH… It’s U... You!”
Her lips motioned, as her body began to place the rest of her body inside of the cab, ending the conversation with the final words which still echoes through my mind. I could feel my hand gripping tighter foreseeing what was about to happen.
“The papers will appear in your desk tomorrow morning"