As mentioned when we announced the winners of the Crime and Intrigue Short Story Writing Competition, we will be running the winning stories on VB.
Last week we ran Michelle Moore’s winning story, Margaret and Me. Taking first place in the Under 18s category was Heidi Hamilton with Accusations. Here it is, in her own words. Ed
The room was cold, modern, and stylish. The furniture was neutral, clean, just what you expect from the sleek outside, white walls, black curling railing, and a small grey stone fountain. A dark shadow engulfed the room as he slowly climbed through the window; His footsteps, as good as silent. He began to pick up ornaments of the mantelpiece. The creak of the door hinges echoed through the room whilst he crept through to the next room.
The room was messy, dirty and cluttered. It didn’t fit with the sleek modern house. Yet what’s the problem with that? A messy study means what? Well who cares, it’s not his problem; yet.
He continued into the study; everywhere he looked you could see the latest technology, laptops, televisions, and mobile phones. He began to fill his bag until he’d filled it to the brim. He threw the bag out of the window and began to climb out of it. He looked back as he started to close the window before he noticed a small black bag. He grabbed the window before it shut and crawled back inside. He took hold of the bag, it was what seemed like a laptop bag, and ran straight back out of the window.
“Sir, I will ask you again. Were you or were you not at apartment 7, Madison building, Gulliver Street, Brooklyn, New York at 9:42am May 23rd 2010 exactly 37 minutes before the explosion?” He remained silent.
Sweat dripping from his forehead landed on the cold stone floor with a loud ‘drip’. “SIR! Were you or were you not at number 3-”
“YES! Ok, yes. Yes I was. It is my apartment, where else was I going to be?” his voice quivered, it was clear he was nervous, after all being accused of planning a terrorist attack is scary, that I’m sure you can understand. But what would you do? Run? You can’t. Hide? You’ve been found. Cry? Will that help? It doesn’t prove your innocent.
The rattling of his keys could be heard from two floors down as he juggled the bags and keys in his hands whilst trying to open the door.
The remaining gold letters, of what used to say, APARTMENT 7 glittered in the small rays of moonlight that streamed through the small windows. The doors green paint, chipped and stained, looked tatty and rough.
He threw the bag containing his loot onto the hard wood floor as he entered his apartment. He sauntered to the couch before throwing himself down onto it.
“So, where exactly were you going at 9:42 am May 23rd?”
“I told you this yesterday.”
“You claim you were seeing a friend, yes?”
He nodded, slowly.
The sound of a loud vibrating phone awoke him. The name JESS crossed the screen of his mobile and a picture of a girl, in her mid-twenties, appeared on the screen.
He flipped open the phone and murmured “Hello?”
A loud voice crackled over the phone “Hey! Long-time no see! I’m at Joe’s, you should come down here”
He flipped down the phone and shoved it into his pocket.
“Why were you meeting this friend exactly?”
He retorted “That is none of your business! It has no relation to this case!”
He reached for his wallet as he raced out of the apartment slamming the door, hard behind him. The streets of Brooklyn were filled, like always, with tourist running to the next site and more and more people just waking up realising they’re late for work. Just across the street neon lights flashed in the sunlight reading ‘JOE’S CAFE’.
The inside of the cafe was basic; Jess was sitting in a booth waiting for him. “Hey! How are you? I was just -” an ear-splitting explosion interrupted her. They whipped round to see the Madison Building crumbling before them.
Two cops ran into the cafe and grabbed him, slapping a pair of handcuffs on him.
“For the last time I didn’t even know this bomb existed let alone that it was in my apartment!”
“And you claim, it magically appeared in your apartment?” the sarcasm in his voice stung.
“No.” He kept his head down, ashamed “I stole it.” he lifted his head sharply and protested “I didn’t know it was a bomb! I thought it was a laptop!”
“So you are a thief. Where did you steal the bomb from?”
“Umm” he hesitated “a house in 53rd street”
“You know that sounds absurd!”
