Short Story

thirty seven people witnessed the murder but no one called the police. Since then this

One friend even helped clean the kitchen, wiping down the counters with a spray cleaner possibly wiping away evidence. Many hours passed before police blocked off the basement room. A pathologist did not examine the body until more than 18 hours after the crime took place (Bardsley, M., & Bellamy, P. n.d.).

I noticed the victim was lying on the couch in the living room with her feet propped up and only in a t-shirt. I noticed several bags of trash were also in the dining room area which was filled with empty Died Dr. Pepper bottles. I then spoke with Officer J. Covault and asked if he knew if anyone else stayed at the residence with the victim, he advised the Management Office advised she lived at the residence by herself. I then had Patrol Officers call for a Forensic Tech to process the

not one called the police. Kitty Genovese died from her injuries and the murder has since been

“We need to take you to the police station now lady.” The taller gendarme says to me. He has a

“I fell,” Madge answers through gritted teeth, clutching her calf tightly as she blinks out tears from her eyes as quickly as she can. It was just her luck that she’d fall off the wall like a complete idiot right after being told to quit. Maybe the odds really weren’t in her favor.

General Patrick finally took notice of the trident on the uniforms of all of the men sitting at the table, not to mention the tape on the uniforms that read ‘US Navy’. “How the hell….” General Patrick said out loud.

The smell of death reeks upon the city , a limbless body lays upon the asphalt, mutilated and crushed. It’s 10:37 P.M. with sirens roaring overhead of San Antonio and red, and blue lights flashing, “Get this scene secured and get those tapes up!” yelled the forensic investigator. “My God, what maniac could have done this.” After a thorough search around the body. “Detective, what should we do, there’s no useful evidence around.”

I press my face against the icy cold window. I watch one by one the snowflakes fall in the moonlight. I can tell it’s Christmas time even though nobody here says anything about it. It’s as if the ward tries to drag us away from any traditions a normal person would do. I think about the Christmases I spent with my kids.

Driving back to my Grandma's had become the norm due to the lack of wi-fi at my house and minor, yet constant disagreements between my stepfather and I. Owning a gray Jetta that sparkled once it hit sunlight, had an aux cord to play music that changed as much as my mood, and worked perfectly fine filled me with gratitude every time I started up its engine. On May 11 my dismal playlist blared from the partially rolled down windows in the car as a few humble tears rolled down my cheeks. This day pressed hard on my chest knowing my biological father should have turned another year older, not stuck at a young 32. Life happens and you have to keep going; however, I could have never predicted singing "If I die young" by The Band Perry and having

I walk to the garage which is giant , filled with nice cars with pretty colors.  Not me though i hop on my baby a black Ducati  since I was the leader I got choice of what car I wanted or whatever so I got a sexy beast.

“Liar. Your answer a year ago would have been your dad or brother. They abandoned you since the turning. If either of them were your POA they would have taken your money and left you with your assailants.”

The smattering of rain on the roof overhead calms me, beating out an irregular rhythm like an anxious child unconsciously tapping his foot. The dim glow of my phone screen washes over me as I wait for the light to return, cut off by the flash flood inducing rain. I look around, and sigh; yet again, the lights on the ceiling are blank, leaving me with nothing to shield myself from the impending darkness.

Black, all he could see, among the ever encroaching darkness of night. Numb, all he could feel as scenes of death unfolded around him. “Go through first!” He shouted to his men, as they scrambled blindly toward cover. The screams of his men mingled with the sounds of the firefight created a cacophony that seemed like it would never end. The second wave of gunfire would soon ensue, leaching the land of life in one foul swoop. Despite this, he felt calm, knowing it would all end soon, and he would finally be taken to gates of heaven and accepted into god's loving embrace. He understood that he was young, but the war had seemingly aged him decades. No one would truly understand him, and he didn’t want them to understand, for that would mean

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" My friends were all waiting for me downstairs. I put on my jacket, grabbed my purse and raced down the stairs.