Good afternoon, and welcome to K-Kan News. This is Judy Gee, with the breaking story that a house has crash-landed on a pedestrian. Initial reports from the town of Colorville verify that the victim was wearing exotic designer shoes and that she was pronounced very truly and really dead. K-Kan reporter, Lolly Pop, is at the scene. Loll, what can you tell us about this incident?”
“Well, Judy, details are sketchy, but it’s known that the house apparently came from nowhere and landed on a pedestrian. The lone female occupant of the house denies any wrongdoing, and mumbles over and over that she just wants to go home. That’s all that we know at this time, but we’ll remain on the scene and bring updates as they occur. Reporting from Colorville, this is Lolly Pop, K-Kan News.”
“Thank you, Lolly. We will go back to the scene throughout the hour. In other news….”
Margaret, a disreputable photojournalist, watches the news report on the small black and white TV in her dark apartment. The middle-aged woman smoothes back greenish-blonde hair, and scratches her elongated nose.
“Hmmm, there’s something delusional about that whining woman. Who is she and who did she kill? I would get my big break by finding out the real story”
Margaret gathers her lucky monkey pen, notebook and camera from the hour glass-shaped end table. Draping a black cape across her shoulders, she races out the back door.
“This is Billie Bea with K-Kan News. There’s a development in the story about the flying house. Reporter Glinda Good, has more information.
Glinda, what can you tell us?”
“Billie, the occupant of the house has been identified as 21 year old Dorothy Gall. Her last known place of residence was in Colorless, Kansas, where she lived with relatives.
The people are singing her praises, because they did not like the victim of the house-landing. As you can hear, there is celebrating going on as they escort her to the road where she can get transportation back to her home. Reporting from Colorville, this is Glinda Good, K-Kan News.”
Margaret learns who the victim was, and has a vendetta against the girl who caused the murder. Pacing behind a tree at the intersection of Shock and Raven, she watches as Dorothy skips over to the colorful garden.
Click, click, click.
Margaret snaps photos of Dorothy meeting up with a sloppy-looking man.
Mmmmm, she has a partner. Wonder what they’re up to? She watches as the trio dance down the road.
Margaret mounts her bicycle and maintains a distance as she follows her suspect. Hearing strange sounds, she notes that she is surrounded by murmuring trees.
“Spih spih spih” She looks up at the whispering pine beckoning to her
. Lifting out a prickly branch, it points left and in a gravelly voice proclaims:
“They went that-a- way.”
Nodding her head at the tree, she pedals in the direction the informant indicated.
Aha, there they are, but who is that stranger with them? Margaret jots down the description:
“Thickset male, clad in silver colored jumpsuit, matching pointy hat and shoes.”
As Margaret photographs the meeting, the suspect begins squirting a dark liquid on the gray man. Drugs? Margaret enthusiastically speculates in her notebook.
The group, arm in arm, boogies down the street. This is really bizarre…but… Margaret studies the photos she has thus far taken, nothing exceptionally newsworthy.
“Can’t give up; I just know that there is something going on, I can feel it all the way to my little green toenails.”
Riding up to the Poppy Seed Café, just outside town; Margaret relaxes with a cup of tea. Hearing happy singing, she looks up to see Dorothy and her entourage. The suspect has what appears to be a bodyguard. He is leonine in appearance, but acts more like an elderly security guard. Margaret watches with interest as the assemblage reclines amidst the field of orange flowers.
“Drugs! I knew it!” Margaret snaps pictures.
“That’s it! They are a drug cartel and the falling house was a ruse to cover up the murder of…….”
Margaret’s rant was interrupted when she realized that the group was leaving. Stowing her gear in the basket on back of her bike, she soars off in the direction of the big city and cackles into the wind:
“I will out you, my little pretty … and you will pay dearly for killing my cousin!” Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.