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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1749558
Rated: E · Draft · Drama · #1749558
This is the first major effort of mine that im taking seriously
ALONE

From out of the storm he came wearing a rain soaked mac, bedraggled hair, matted beard and piercing blue eyes. Nobody saw him enter town but then no one was looking for him, he trudged wearily along paying no heed to the surrounding area, not caring and not noticing. The string holding his mac closed was showing its last legs his dirty mud smeared face the colour of his dark trousers. He walked on.

On the other side of town Charlotte was washing the lunch dishes, wrapped up in her own little world. Whilst little Tommy destroyed Barney with his action man. The purple dinosaur final succumbing to an onslaught of machine gun fire toppling of the sofa onto the floor. Charlotte rinsed the last few cups in the sink before settling down to dry them. She heard a scream, dragging her out o f her day dream, not noticing the proceeding bang. Jolted aware she ran to the lounge calling Tommy’s name as she went.
Tommy was lying face down in an awkward position his head lying at a right angle to the rest of his body. She made a lunge for him as she went to pick him up hearing a distinct snap as the child’s neck broke killing him instantly. Charlotte screamed and cried out his name uncontrollably sobbing. She tried to think of what she should do but the shock of the situation; slowly she walked back into the kitchen and resumed drinking her coffee the last two minutes not registering.
Charlotte awoke on the kitchen floor, she struggled to remember but nothing registered only the fact she was not on her own. She thought why was there policemen wondering around her home? Why was I on the floor? Why was Mrs Bain the lady from next door kneeling by the side of her, then as the daze slowly wore off the sound of voices assaulted her ears she looked to Mrs Bain as she asked “What happened Charlotte?”
Unable to answer any of the questions that were being asked of her she looked from face to face noticing Tommy being taken out of the lounge covered over with a blanket, a small still form upon an ambulance stretcher. She let out a long wail and broke down. The policewoman that was sat beside her tried to console her but it was having no affect, unable to get through to her. A paramedic kneeled to her and cajoled her into a wheelchair where she was strapped in with a blanket and pushed into a waiting ambulance.


The stranger walked along hearing the sirens but not looking up from his stooped stance. Experience had taught to keep his head bowed and looking at the floor. That way the police and others who may have noticed him would assume that he was moving on without being asked by any form of authority.
Sometimes the stranger would linger in a town for a few days just to rest his weary body. Though he wasn’t old, his exact age he couldn’t even tell you as he was unable to remember the year of his birth he looked old by all appearances he looked early 50’s though in truth he was closer to 35 than he was 50.
He was thinking of spending a day or two here in this quiet town he was undecided now having heard the sirens. It was late morning and he desperately needed food and drink. He noticed that there was a diner down the high street but had not got near it instead he chose to stick to the lesser known roads in the hopes of finding a small grocery store where he could replenish his small array of supplies.
He continued walking in the rain thinking to himself how similar this town was to others that he had passed through. It was funny how many places looked the same and yet the people who lived there all thought they were unique and one of a kind. He allowed himself a brief smile and thought how wrong people could be.

Charlotte got held in hospital and was admitted over night for medical assessment and evaluation. This also gave them time to produce reports for the police, who after a brief time were allowed to interview her and put their questions to her but were unable to get any satisfactory answers to find out anything to go on. They left posting an officer outside the private room to watch over her just in case they assured the doctors.
In the basement the coroner was about to start the post mortem on Timmy, he’d already noted a large bruise starting to form on his left temple as well as the left rib and side. Whilst moving the cadaver he’d also noted the jagged edged bone in the neck instantly pointing to the fact of a broken neck, this is what he believed himself was the cause of death but obviously kept his opinion to himself awaiting his own conclusive answer from a full post mortem.
He started the pm and produces a number of test tubes like vials to place samples of the child’s blood, saliva and hair ready to send to the lab for DNA testing as well as for toxicology workings.
Dr Richard Wade M.E. hated this part of his job especially on an innocent it was bad enough on the elderly but a child who had his life full of promise and longevity, a full life ahead of himself. It reminded him to start spending more time with his child back home. Nicky his son was starting in reception class soon and that meant only another few weeks of him running riot in the house. Julie his wife was more worried than Nicky himself who thought it was one big adventure like his hero at the moment Indiana Jones. The doctor smiled to himself and started the post mortem. Twenty minutes into it and the telephone rings cursing to himself for not putting the answer machine on.
He removes his gloves and walks towards the shared office. ”Dr Wade” he answers picking up the receiver.
“Hey doc, Sgt Aimes here, have you managed to complete the pm on young Timmy Davies yet?”
“No not yet, just in the process of doing it now, like I said earlier you’ll be the first to know as soon as I’ve completed it. You’ll get your report by 2:30 at the latest. Good bye Sargent”. He replaced the handset before he could be asked anything else. Flicking on the answer machine as he left to resume the post mortem.
© Copyright 2011 Wolfie72 (firewolf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1749558