Thankyou. Yes that odour seems to creep up on me a but too.
Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Die Little Birdy - Part Three
Chapter Two
Dedicated and Dead
She staggered up the empty street only a little worse for wear. Blood dripped down her leg, scratches covered her body, and gash stretched across the top of her hand. Battled scars from yet another fight. One in which her assailant slowly drowned.
She had seen better nights. Much better nights unlike this one upon this night. Nights filled with sugary surprises, sparks of light and glittering trees. That was when she had abided by the law, mind you.
Now she hoped not to get caught attempting to return. She knew perfectly well she shouldn’t be there. If she got caught the consequences would be disastrous. Her coming this close to the truth could damage so many people. Primarily herself.
The young woman reached the gate to the house she searched for. She stared up at the magnificent structure smiling. Once the envy of Pines Creek residents could not stare at the manor. The intricate architecture and creative gardens left people wondering who could afford such a piece of property. It had been a marvelous anomaly .
After ten years of abandonment the Pribek Manor still existed as an anomaly. Reduced to a fragile structure it threatened to collapse. The public cried for it to be demolished. The furniture, long since removed, left a broken and abandoned shell. Holes existed throughout with a verandah caving threatening to cave in. The once stunning gardens now either dead, growing wild or weed infested. Even the gate had rusted and hung only on a hinge.
The intruder moved past the gate and started up the broken pathway. She glanced around to feel memories returning to her. Glimpses of the past. Some happy others filled with despair, shattered hope and death. A lot of dead, attempted murders and assaults.
The intruder held her hand out caressing the solid oak, front door. She twisted the handle and pulled it towards her allowing a peek inside. The moonlight feebly attempted to rid the darkness encasing the entrance. She helped by lighting a candle. A small flickering flame fought the darkness as she wandered around the ground floor.
As she turned this way and that, an onrush of memories met her. They refused to be forgotten, begging to be turned over. The intruder tried to remain content as she staggered up the fragile stairs. She looked around refusing to turn over any horrific memories. This was the horror house. A hell hole for a child who once lived there, after all.
“Hello?” a quivering voice called from the entrance.
The intruder expelled her candle leaving darkness to swim around her. She hid at the top of the stairs and peered over the rail. The trespasser below lit up the ground floor by a torch. It allowed the intruder a chance to scrutinize the shadowy features. She tried to remember this person of her past. No names came as she watched as an eagle does it’s prey.
The trespasser wore baggy jeans, a hoodie drawn low and a bag slung across her shoulder. Her inconspicuous attempt to conceal her identity. She wandered throughout the ground floor checking no one was with her. She didn’t bother with the first floor believing no one would brave the crumbling stairs.
The intruder watched the trespasser move back into the entrance. She sat upon the cold tiles and removed a bottle from her bag. For a while she examined the entrance drinking the vodka as if it water. Then, curled up, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander amongst her mind.
Half an hour or so passed with neither intruder nor trespasser moving. Lost in the wanderings of their minds their uneasiness soon dispersed. They existed once more in the house. Together again like time had never past.
The the windows came the red and blue lights. The first, and only, warning of the visitor who had arrived. The police officer trudged up the pathway and pulled open the door. Inside he shine his torch to see what he expected. He walked over and hoped the trespasser would flee. Less paperwork and less effort but same money.
“Get up.”
The trespasser opened her eyes, “Hello, Matthews. Wondering how long it’d take you.”
“I’m not playing games, Genevieve. Get up and get lost.”
Hatred flicked upon the intruder’s face.
“So, why you come? Had an instinct I’d be here . . . or a tip off?”
Matthews glanced up stairs thinking he saw someone, “You’re not allowed to be here. You’re on a good behaviour bond, remember?”
“Yeah, about that. What made you think it’d keep me away? The fact I appeared not to return?” Genevieve paused as if thinking, “You do know I have in between then and now, right?”
“Leave. Go to Brisbane, attend Capryse College and forget the past.”
Genevieve looked away, “I can do that next week. Right now, I’m spending as much time here as I feel like it.”
“Damara doesn’t wan-”
Fury flashed across the teenager’s eyes, “She’s dead! Dead and gone! She won’t ever walk through that door or even breathe in here again. So why must she still control how I’m treated? Why?!”
“Because to the world you’re nothing. Only a poor sould who wound up here half dead. No family and no past.” Matthews replied, “But someone who could have a future if she forgot the past.”
“I do have a past!”
“Maybe but there’s no proof.”
“I can remember this whole house! Every detail.”
“You’ve broken in enough times.”
“Damara’s life. I know a lot about it.”
“Your lies don’t count.”
An idea formed, “What about the tales of a ghost child? Weren’t those a classic? Please forgive me, but why did they come about?” a mock pause, “That’s right! To explain the crying and screams of pain. Also explained why a child, who belonged to no one, wandered aimlessly around.”
Matthews refused to comment.
“I wonder would people recognise that ghost? Even if it has aged almost a decade? Would the residents remember the poor, little, lost soul? The little girl residents refused to speak about.” Genevieve smiled, “The terrible secret of Pines Creek?”
“It won’t work. No one will come forward.”
“Can you be sure about that? Bet your . . . life, career and reputation upon it?” Genevieve said, “If the truth got out you’re screwed. People will see you for the corrupted bastard you really are. Wouldn’t go down to well, eh?”
“Is that why you’re back? To cause trouble?”
“No. I want answers.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Answers first, revenge later.”
“You would destroy this for everyone, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah! Think of the fun.” Genevieve laughed, “I guess you could say I’ve inherited some of my mother’s . . . qualities.”
Matthews exploded, “She’s not your mother! She never has been!”
“Excuse me?”
“She never wanted to act like your mother either!”
“You’re lying!”
“No, it’s the truth. Didn’t you ever wonder why there is no DNA linking you two together? Or why she hid you away?” Matthews paused, “Or even why she beat you and tried to kill you?”
“So admit-”
“Everything surrounding you threatened to destroy her reputation. The world knows the truth. It is you who has been lied to all these years.” Matthews said, “Your past is built upon lies. Damara never became a mother because she never had her own child. You are not her daughter, her heir.”
Genevieve stood up, “You’re a fucking liar!”
“This is the truth, Genevieve. Not what you were told.”
“Stop lying!”
Matthews enjoyed the horror in Genevieve’s eyes, “She only kept you as a reminder of her mistakes. She could’ve got rid of you like the other. It would have been just as easy. Instead she kept you, making sure you would always be punished.”
“If she always wanted me why did she try to kill me?” Genevieve challenged.
“Simple. You’re a human being and you were getting too old to hide.” Matthews shrugged, “I told her to do it. I offered to do it for her. The perfect murder. You had no past so there would be no suspects.” he sighed, “But she was adamant. If you died she wanted to do it. A week later she did-”
“But failed!”
“Her biggest mistake yet.”
“Her biggest was getting into bed with you!”
Matthews slammed his bat into Genevieve’s side. A scream erupted as it hit it’s mark but Genevieve’s lips hadn’t opened. Matthews turned and looked up stairs. There stood a woman of is past as solid as a human. No ghost, no mirage, not even a hallucination despite what he tried to tell himself. She stood before him a cold gun clasped by one fragile hand.
He should have run like Genevieve but fear kept him rooted.
The woman smiled cruelly, “It had been years, has it not?”
“Y, yes.” Matthews crouched on the ground in dedication, “How have you been?”
“The respect you show will not save you.” the woman sighed, “Why did you tell the child what you did? Elizabeth wanted to in a more . . . civilized manner.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry. A word that’s thrown around much these days-”
“I mean it!”
“Do not interrupt me!” her eyes blazed.
“I, I . . . I wanted to stop her trespassing.”
The woman raised the gun, “Then goodbye.”
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shivsguy reviewed Version 2 -
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badwriter reviewed Version 2 -
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YolandaRenee reviewed Version 2 -
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fiction84 reviewed Version 2 -
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if you are looking for corrections of the grammar and punc type, i would suggest doing something about this little one right here.
[and gash stretched across the top of her hand.]
should not you have placed another word there, or words, perhaps? just curious.
as for the story itself, it was good, i really enjoyed the beginnin, i could focus on the girl greatly, although i would like to have “seen” more images throughout the story, but all in all good.
the matt bat scene was sorta…wow. ha
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a_sooner_girl reviewed Version 1 -
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Awesome! The beginning paragraph really described the mood and gave great foreshadowing to the story. I have so many questions now about what’s going to happen to Genevieve! What’s Matthew’s secret? Why is he protecting the mom? And does this mean she’s still alive somewhere? Great work! Keep posting! I’m loving it!
Harold_P reviewed Version 1 -
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Hey there…
I recognise that odour. It’s filling the room just now (perhaps I ought to open a window…)
I thought the concept of this odour was a good metaphor upon which to base the beginning of your story and that was a strong opening exchange between your two characters. You have succeeded at creating enough intrigue to set you in good stead for the next section of your story.
Harold_P
CelestialAlchemist reviewed Version 1 -
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I was expecting the title to be Die Little Birdy,Die or something like that. But a clever title. And you’re just sixteen. Cool. I think this would make one of the nice mystery novels you’d find in the adult mystery section at the library or on a display shelf at Borders. I would like to see more of this and see how it develops further.
ultraviolence reviewed Version 1 -
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A very interesting premise, and mostly well-written. Some of the dialog is quite good. However the conflict between the characters seems to happen abruptly rather than developing in a natural way. Also—“bordered up”—I think you meant “boarded up.” The description of the house at the beginning was really good, though. I liked “Nothing remained even slightly spectacular.”
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