SECOND INVESTIGATION

[whimsicalism]

INVESTIGATION

After last Friday's horrific discovery, the march toward the weekend must be filled with dread for some of Ira Academy's students. This week, the Principal's tailored threats became even more personal. Tuesday's motive announcement received a more noticeable reception across several members of the student body. In most cases, this would be a blessing: Good children care about protecting their loved ones.

Now, however, it's a threat. Someone with loved ones to protect might have felt there was nothing left to lose--except, perhaps, another classmate. Despite the lack of a real sun (or, truly, any genuine weather outside at all) the morning is a gloomy, cursed one. For anyone feeling concerned about what might be waiting out there, it might be a little hard to emerge from the warm safety of bed. Others may have felt the oppressive fear on the other end of things, unable to fall into a true sleep and still wide awake come morning.

Will this Friday see a repeat of last week, gruesome and bloody early in the morning? Or has everyone chosen to wait out the danger, refusing to give in to their fears? There's only one way to find out.

Where will your weary morning legs take you today, children?

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Comments

[bellabellabella]

[He is still for a moment, then gives a soft laugh absolutely devoid of amusement.]

I suppose you are correct. I still don't see what will stop anyone with something to hide from lying, but perhaps it is more information than we would otherwise have regardless.

[Edward returns to his room and comes back a moment later with his package. He flicks it open with a kind of carefully controlled careless air, and even faded and away from its source the scent hits him like a truck, and he goes still for a moment, eyes closing, before he looks back up, pulling out a folder and showing several shots of a girl, pretty but not extraordinary, with long dark hair and big dark eyes and something in her that makes her look somehow fragile, but unaware of it herself. In the box is a lock of dark hair that matches the photographs, and a ratty old tshirt that is full of holes.]

Her name is Isabella Swan. She deserves better than to be used to threaten a person like me, but that seems to be her lot in life, so I don't know why I was surprised that it happened.