The Murder at Midnight Chapter 1

It was ten to twelve on a misty Thursday night. A fourteen-year-old boy leant against a sixteen-year-old wall. His auburn coloured hair glowed like fire under a street lamp and his bright green eyes twinkled in the excitement of engraving two letters into the wall - A.M. He knew he shouldn't do it, but that was how he got his adrenaline kicks.

"Well well well," came a voice from behind him, "if it isn't little prisoner boy"

The boy spun around, quickly, to see where the source of the voice was coming from. He couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" He asked nervously. He couldn't get caught. Not now. Not ever.

He assumed that the person who spoke had gone, so he carried on with the engraving. The fear of getting caught was still in his mind, and he wasn't concentrating properly. Every scenario of how he might get caught was running through his head, like a river, and the thumping of his adrenaline filled heart was molesting his ears. The two combined was like a waterfall running on his brain. It felt like he was at the bottom of Niagara falls and the pressure of the water on his head was driving him insane.

Since he'd finished the vandalism, he walked off, dropping the piece of flint that he had engraved the two letters in the wall with. It made a clunk on the pavement as it hit the ground. He pulled up his hood on his hoodie, so that the person who had shouted at him, wouldn't recognise him and shoved his hands in his pockets because they were starting to go numb with the cold. He ran out of the tight alleyway, across the quiet road, and dashed to the park, to not get caught by whoever saw him. The person obviously knew him. No one randomly called him prisoner boy.

The park was on top of a hill and was surrounded by a steel fence with two yellow gates to get in and out of the park. A man jumped over the fence. He had blonde hair that was sticking up and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a black hoodie jacket and deep blue denim jeans. The boy didn't notice the man approaching him.

"Aaron, what are you doing out at this time of night?" he asked in an Irish accent

The boy, known as Aaron, turned around quickly.

"What you doing here," he demanded, "Ain't you got no prisoners to be guarding?"

"Try using correct English. It's 'Haven't you got any prisoners to be guarding'"

"You know what I mean"

The man looked at him. "Anyway, what d'ya think I'm doing?"

"I don't count. Anyway, why are you out here?"

The man shrugged. "I suppose cause I can't sleep," he admitted. He turned away and sat on a swing. The man was known as DS Gabe. He worked at the local prison but sometimes solved crimes outside of the prison. He guarded Aaron whilst he was inside. The boy liked him, he was the nicest out of all the guards and therefore, he trusted him. Aaron sat beside him. "What's up?" he asked sensing that Gabe wasn't happy.

"I suppose I'm just tired. I just can't sleep. Not with all those death threats," he replied, putting his head in his hands. The death threats he was talking about had been going on for over a week. They were all letters, with the words spelt out in cut out magazine headlines. They weren't addressed to him, but to his best friend, so he was worried about them.

Aaron rubbed Gabe's back. "Why are you worried about them? They ain't addressed to you," he pointed out trying to console him. Gabe looked at him. "How do you know that?", he asked not really wanting to know the answer.

Then Aaron realized his mistake. He got off his swing, forcibly, making it fly backwards on its chains that were holding it to the frame. He rubbed his head with his hand, messing up his perfectly gelled hair in the process. "Look,"he started

Gabe glared at him "You did it didn't you. You wrote them!" he yelled, striding towards him like a lion closing in on its prey.

"No...I didn't please," Aaron cried desperately, before rushing out of the park gates. He stumbled down the hill, with Gabe racing after him. After a minute of running, Gabe gave up, but Aaron carried on.

Aaron rushed off towards the direction of his house, but then he stopped. Going to his house would be obvious, to the police and they would find him in an instant. Aaron backtracked and took off running the opposite direction as fast as he could. After mindlessly running, his run ended in another park, on the other side of his village.

'I hope Gabe doesn't find me here,' He thought, whilst sitting down on a swing. As thoughts ran through his mind, he settled down into a restless sleep

..........................................................................................................................................................................

It was midnight and the fog had closed in on the surrounding area. Outside Aaron's house, there was a field with long, thick, wavy grass.A body was being dragged in it, making a trail in the grass by flattening it. It also left a trail of blood. The body was covered in blood from its slit throat and its hair was matted with weeds and dried blood, from being dragged a long distance. It was thrown into a ditch, filled to the top with thorn bushes and tangled stinging nettles. The murderer walked off, chuckling.

The murder at midnight.