Gandervelts 2

Months drove on by with no phone call from Ms. Isabella Gandervelt. All the while the days pounded down along with the rhythm of Mr. Gandervelts whiskey bottles. That unfaithful clock and its ticking pulsed through his veins pushing out every drop of sanity he held onto.
“I sit here in my blood red chair that is so neatly place within the corner of my living room. The smell of my child’s rotting body has become a comfort to me. The silver pistol I brought 4 years ago is perched under my stone cold feet as this rooms temperature drops to freezing. It’s so very cold, very cold I say, almost like an ice box with the door locked, and sealed tightly. NO! NO! Isabella will come back! No! Isabella, Isabella!”
He screamed this making every blue vein pop out of his head, even though there wasn’t another living thing in the room. Expressionless once again, his eyes a bloody red for the fire that fueled his rages ignited. Strangely his breath remained an icy mist. Dang! Dang! Dang! His empty body fell heavily to the ground.


Mr. Gandervelt age 38 Oct. 5, 1946- Oct. 5, 1984

Cause of death- murder or suicide?