Narrative

• Fletcher Williams, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

Steven was watching a horror movie on Netflix, in his small house alone, when suddenly he heard a squeak from the wall. “What was that” whispered Steven. He quietly tip-toed over to the kitchen to get his gun when he heard another noise.
He makes it to his brown double barrelled shotgun and finds the mysterious thing making the noise. It was a small mouse. Steven breathe’s a sigh of relief, when a shadow comes out of the dark, and quickly raises a gun, and shoots him in the shoulder, then quickly flees out the door. Steven tries reaching to his gun but his shoulder is burning from the bullet. He lays there wondering if he is going to live or not when he passes out.
He wakes up and feels the pressure in his right shoulder. He prepared to pull himself up off the wooden floorboards while thinking back to the night before. He calls the police and the ambulance. They arrive shortly after and take him to the hospital, safely, while the police investigate. He is told he has to stay in the hospital for the night. Steven says “ok” while the doctors are walking out but as they’re leaving one doctor he hasn’t seen yet curiously looks back at him weirdly. Steven confused, falls asleep, when the nightmares come. Steven dreams that the murderer is right in front of him and has a pistol. There was only a flicker of light, like being in a dark room with only a flashlight. The person in front of him is about to take his hoodie off when Steven wakes up in the hospital room.
He gets checked by the doctors and heads off home. While he gets near his house he sees the police taking pictures and marking his house off with yellow tape. Steven gets out the cab and yells “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE”. A big man from the police department walks over to him and apologises for not letting him know about the investigation. The police ended up staying for an hour, for Steven it felt like a whole day. When they eventually leave he lays down on his big, comfortable bed thinking about the last week.
Steven worked a day job at the top of a vast building, it was 100 storeys high. The height of it scared him when he imagined himself falling down uncontrollably. It’s almost like falling off the playground as a kid but much, MUCH higher. He is thinking about being the best investigator in the world. It has been two long months since Steven was shot. He is now applying for a job to be an inspector. Steven was going to find the mysterious man, like they do in the movies. Steven is going to be like Sherlock Holmes. He is standing impatiently waiting for the big man from the crime scene at his house, when a man he had never seen before walked into the police department. He was wearing a dark hoodie with black gloves; Steven studied who it was.
It was silent as midnight; it stayed that way until the printer printed a photographed picture of the man in the hoodie. As soon as it printed the police officer came back, and in the corner of Steven’s eye he saw the outline of a gun. Steven aggressively launched at the man and unfailingly knocks the gun out of his hand. All of the police in the station head directly to the man and arrest him.