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Blood Stained Water.

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Blood Stained Water A shrill screamed issued from her mouth, it filled the room, and then stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving echoes lingering in the air. The body of a man lay on the floor, dressed in a charcoal black suit, and faded around the cuffs and the collar. His ageing wrinkled hands clutched onto his chest, soaked in the warm, wet blood, which stained his shirt. A faint drip could still be heard in the eerily silent study. His face was so vivid with fear. It could be seen in his usually warm, brown eyes. His oval spectacles were shattered on the floor beside him. The moonlight peered through a gap in the thick, woven cream curtains it was reflected off the shards of lens over the walls and ceiling like a 70s disco ball, though the atmosphere was much different. A rug of screwed paper littered the floor next to the empty filing cabinets, hours of notes on hundreds of patients now showered across the floor. The rest of the study looked as normal, the room dark, save for the small lamp which lit the heavily varnished mahogany bureau, shining on the doctors most recent work, the ink still wet. Blackness lurked in every corner, hopefully it was only the blackness that lurked there, nothing else was hiding in the shadows, and whatever had been there had long gone. ...read more.


Everyone was interviewed, well all the employees anyway, some were more revealing than others, some had plausible alibis and were immediately out of the picture, but some didn't, the chef, Francois, had no alibi, he was in his kitchen cooking as you would expect, but at 9:45 who would've wanted food. The gardener was alone in his cottage on the grounds, but he never left it, other than to tend to his duties and he never had visitors. Both men were suspects, but neither had a motive, and nobody would believe it was either of them, they were both very nice people and they owed Dr Chandler alot. George was a disabled orphan, he had brain damage suffered in his mothers womb, but Dr Chandler took him in, gave him the groundskeeping job and treated him like a son. No, neither of them could've killed him, they were in debt to him. The atmosphere of the house in the following weeks became very hostile, the police kept questioning everyone time and time again, they were treating everyone as a suspect. People became edgy, they snaped at each other, accusing anyone they could to shift the attention off themselves, but there was one thing they all agreed on, Heather was most definatly in the spotlight. ...read more.


Things had changed, the pay was lowered and the friendship wasn't the same, the doctor would sit down and eat meals with his workers, he treated them like friends and hardly took a thought about their jobs, but now it was different, Heather didn't sit with them, and she hardly talked to them, they were eating their dinner in the kitchen, while the couple enjoyed the dinning room alone, except for the company of the many bottles of vintage wine which had been saved in the cellar, the oldest dating back to 1924, but that no longest existed, every drop was drunk in merely a few minutes and the bottle lay smashed on the floor. "Lisa! We've smashed a bottle again, bring the dustpan and brush and be quick!" Josh was sitting at the head of the table in the high backed chair, he flicked his shoes off and rested his feet on the polished surface, Josh had been acting like he owned the house for months now, even when the doctor was alive he strutted around, yelling orders at the staff and doing whatever he wanted. He didn't show any respect, this had angered everyone around him including the doctor. One member of staff overheard an extremely intense argument between the two of them a few months ago, it was apparently very heated, but the eavesdropper couldn't make out what the argument was about and only managed to overhear a few words. ...read more.

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