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My Short Story.

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Introduction

My Short Story She slowly put the phone down, wincing as the sound echoed through the empty office, strangely amplified in the silence. She stood up and walked over to the large ornate doors on the other side of the office. She paused to check her appearance, straightened her tie and nametag, before gingerly knocking on the door. "Sir?" She called. There was no answer. She assumed he was asleep and didn't disturb him further. It wasn't until it was time for her to leave that she realized the truth. She first thought something was wrong when Mr Bryson didn't come round on his usual rounds before leaving the office and heading home. That worried her, he was always punctual, coming out of the doors at quarter to six and announcing that it was almost time. She would then turn off her computer, put on her coat, which was draped over her chair and turn off the lights. Mr Bryson would then accompany her to her car, which was only a short walk. But today he hadn't come out of the doors. ...read more.

Middle

He asked Mrs Bryson. "Yes, that's all that was on the scrap in that book." He handed it to Martin, who looked at the numbers carefully. "Sir, I think this is a map reference." And that was why, next day, Huxley and Martin were standing in the middle of Cornwall with no one in sight, looking into a large hole which had been dug. It wasn't long before Huxley noticed the book. It was lying on the other side of the hole, its pages ripped out; some had already flown away. "It looks as though someone was looking for something here, and when they didn't find it, they looked to the book for clues, which it obviously didn't give." Mused Huxley. "I think I'll take a closer look at this book." He said, picking it up and putting it in his pocket. Later that day, Huxley was poring over the book. It was, as he soon realized in Latin. "I feel like I'm in school again, trying to read this. I knew I should have paid more attention during class." He shook his head. ...read more.

Conclusion

It was the next day. The room, which previously had been empty, was now full with police officers. Many more were in the back rooms, where Huxley had found the jewel. All the rooms, floors, walls and even ceilings were being looked at through many magnifying glasses and there had already been more jewels discovered. Huxley walked over to the doctor who was bent over the young man. "Let me guess, he was struck several times with a sharp object and then crushed, breaking his ribs and puncturing his lungs," guessed Huxley. The doctor stood up, clearly impressed. "How did you know that?" "Lucky guess!" was all Huxley would say. As he walked away, his phone rang. Huxley tried to answer, but he still hadn't got the hang of these new-fangled phones. Martin came running over and helped him. After a short discussion with his caller, he put the phone down. "That was the station," he said to Martin, "they've found out who our killer is... was, a Mr Kee, he was a famous archaeologist. When he entered this place, he set off several traps, one was that statue." "So that's it is it then Sir?" asked Martin. "No, now we go and have a drink!" replied Huxley. And they did. ...read more.

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