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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2208180-Cryptic-Case
by D. Dev
Rated: E · Fiction · Detective · #2208180
A group of students were assigned to figure out the case of their beloved friend.
"How could you!?" Howled he. "Of all the
people who could've wrenched the life out
of her weary soul." He added, as he sobs in disbelief, throbbing back and forth with the restless need for answers. His eyes glued to their body, reading the next move from his foe.

The deafening silence grew more, as tension fed the two, cowering spirits hosting a mimicry of who they used to be.

"It's sad to know that a single motive, a selfish dream could ruin the lives of so many." He managed to let yet a mockery of a laughter out of his gut. "You had us good. Traitor."

The cold brewing of a mixture with shattered dreams and backs scarred were disrupted by a cloud of sirens bouncing through the plastered hallway. It was already too late for him to realize his impending doom.

The door clashes with the wall as it swung open with a horde of policemen charging inside the room. They positioned themselves around the armed student, raising their weapons, yelling at the student to drop his gun and put his hands on the air. Trembling in fear as his life flashes in an instant, he drops his gun and flings his arms up.

"I'm sorry. If you ever get the chance, please meet me in the same place. I'll explain then." His lips drew nothing but a phrase as cold as the deepest depths of the ocean, stony-hearted it may seem.

'It wasn't always like this. How did it ever get to this?'

A bang of ray scrapes through the minds of Wheeler as he stood there, puzzled as he could be, remembering all the pieces of this song. It rang through his head, not loud, yet certainly trenchant. Like a vivid memory you'd try to flush away as you drown yourself with alcohol, under the full moon, inside a rotting bar.

Thud! The door flew open as three students anxiously marched inside the monochromatic, book-littered room. Wheeler upfront, drops the folder on top of the stoned desk. Behind was an old man with facial hair riddled around his face, a suit that would worth more than a silver-coated penny, and a pair of glasses that could cut through with one swipe.

"Now, children, learn to have manners! We wouldn't want to have ruin the name of our- rather MY school." He grinned as he fidgets with he twirls his pen around.

"He's the most irritating man-child I've ever met." Whispered the student behind Wheeler.

"His voice itself sounds like a blackboard violated with sandpape-" uttered the girl next to him

"I HEARD THAT!" The old man shrieked. He waved at the two shadowy figures in the corner to come forth. They walk out of what seems to be the chambers of hell and made their way to the old man. A tall, brunette, and a gorgeous lady goes behind the old man and proceeds to massage him. Whilst his fellow, a thin young male holding a clipboard, wearing a pair glasses, approaches the group.

"How dare you insult our beloved and kind principal! Oh you should be thankful that he's given you a chance to prove your innocence." Said the lady with a seductive tone "That is, if you really are innocent." She said in such a subjective manner, her pitch lowered as if she were mocking the students.

"Secretary." The young fellow said. "Names please." He added.

"Wheeler, Wheeler Smith." He crosses his arms, eyes locked on the principal. Stood proud and strong, intimidating even.

"Claire, Claire Anne." A girl with short hair, a stance showing clear signs of dominance yet her body language shows a sign of being somewhat submissive.

"Jethro, Jethro Light." The smallest amongst the group, the lightest too. Like a feather floating on air, his size is of a child's. Though he could be the smartest within the group.

"Where are the others?" Visible confusion can be seen on the secretary's face. "Last time I checked there were 9 of you, left."

"What a peculiar statement there sir, the rest is in the computer room." She knew something was wrong with what he said. She raised her eyebrows at the guy.

"Pardon, was there something wrong with my grammar?" He removes his glasses and looks at her round, and brown eyes. Immediately she turns away, but its clear from her red ears that she wasn't expecting such a gift from cupid this early.

"Now then." He clears his throat and places back his glasses. He picks up the folder on the desk and reads aloud the contents.

"On June 3, 2020 at 11:35am. The corpse of Renesemee Rivera was found lying in the classroom. No investigation has been conducted, the students were moved to a separate room but were told that the reason was because of a crack present in the room caused by an earthquake."

The principal then puts his arms on the desk, hands clenched and with a sinister look he said. "You have two weeks."

Claire was confused, "two weeks?"
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