“What the-“, I began groggily, but was interrupted by an different symphony of beeps. My eyes go to the left of my alarm clock, sitting there was a small object vibrating furiously on the wood of my oak bedside table-so it hadn’t been my alarm ringing-it was my mobile. But who would call at this hour?
The old(prenominal) voice of Detective Inspector Grouse yelled orders from the other end of the line,
“Hinton Wood. IMMEDIATELY.”
“B-but this is my-“, I was silenced by a click, as the line went dead.
“Day finish up” I finished, I stared moronically at my mobile for half a second, then turned to hook an eyebrow at my tabby, Matilda, who lay lazily on the bounce of the bed.
“Well, that was...brief”, I muttered, as I flung the covers off the bed, Matilda going with them.
*
`I shut the door of my gray Fiat, enraged, some day off this turned out to be, I complained to myself, while I munched abstractedly on the remains of my expired Kellogg’s Frosties. I shoved the decay key into the ignition, stomped down on the gas and-with the tyres screeching analogous human screams-sped down the road.`
`As the first drop of rainwater splatted onto my windscreen, I randomly realised how the weather seem to veer in correlation with my mood. My thoughts went back to the short phone call, what could it be this time? It was a stupid question, because it always had the same answer. every murder-this or autopsy-that. Listening to my childish complaining, I chuckled humourlessly, as I recalled the time when Grouse had referred to me as child-like; I...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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