Challange #3

A overseer/warden finds there has been property damage and harm to his faculty and one of his subjects has been victimized. Construct a crime scene and detective dialog.

                A graying black boot leaned on a wooden board causing it to creak.  The boot was an old boot.  Old but well cared for.  It had scruffs that while buffed out as much as a person could were like scars scratched on the sides.  The leather seemed to sag a little but still held a good shape.  The shoelaces had been replaced and there was a new stitching in the heel of it.  It mirrored its owner. 

A grizzled old man stepped up to the screen door on the wooden porch.  He had three scars paralleling each other running down the side of his face and down his neck disappearing under a plaid shirt that was freshly pressed.  His hand wrinkled and stretched, yet the muscle underneath flexed smoothly as it pulled back the screen door and he knocked on the front door.

The door creaked and caught for a second on the warped wooden floor before yielding to expose a young man dressed in pure black.  Everything on him was new.  From the fresh pressed bottom up shirt to the freshly stitched boots.  Even his voice seemed to yet of been broken in.  “Forewarden.  I….  I didn’t expect you.”

  The Forewarden’s voice had a low rumble that you could only tell by looking for it.  “Well you should of.”  He sighed his shoulders deflating a little “But I guess the watchers aren’t what they use to be.”  The Forewarden stepped in causing the Watcher to step back and flank his side.  “Are you the lead?”

It was clear to anyone who looked the Watcher was tense but completely submissive “Yes sir.  My partner is out back checking out the damage and looking for anything else.”

The Forewarden dug his hands into his pockets looking for something until they pulled out a cigar.  “Where is the rest of your division?”

  The Watcher looked nervously at the cigar “Most of them are deployed out to block the paths.  We formed a small band to track and investigate.”  He pulled out from his pocket a crude looking match.

The Forwarden smiled at that show of compliance.  “Son.  What’s your name?”

The Warden raised his eyebrow in confusion “It’s Carthor.”

“Well Carthor My name is Uthar.  Now I like it when the men working with me and or for me are honest with me.  So I’ll ask you.  Why are you handing me that match?”

Carthor’s face went crimson.  He only took a few seconds to respond.  “To help you light your” He paused slightly as if trying to find the right word “Smoke.”

Uthar grunted a laugh that seemed to croak from his Adam’s apple.  “Now.  I want you to tell me why I shouldn’t.”  He put up his hand waving it off as Carthor was about to speak.  “I know why Carthor.  While you’re telling me why I want you to tell me about what you know.”

Carthor pursed his lips thinking before his jaw set in determination.  “Because it would contaminate the crime scene.”  Uthar smile, tapped his nose with the cigar, and waved with the same item for him to continue.  “There is a distant smell of acid.  Now while there isn’t much evidence around to point out what caused it, because of the water that washed through here from the wash pipes.  It does make us think of the Keepers.”  Now it was Carthor’s turn to wave as he gestured to the entire room.

The entire room was made from wood.  The room was long but not too wide.  Beds lined the sides of each with a trunk in front of them.  It looked like a standard military lineup.  There was a door on the opposite end.  Or was.  It was like a huge chunk of it was destroyed.  Parts of it chard other parts splintered and even melted in some places if one could believe that.

Carthor let Uthar get a good look before continuing.  “From what we can tell.  The workers all fled to the wash room to keep from a keeper.  One of them was really smart.  We found a broken lamp by the door.  It looks like he started a fire to keep the keeper from busting in and getting them.  He also turned on the water and flooded the floor.  As you can tell from the warped wood that it worked.  Somehow they also had wet sheets to help from choking and or burning to death in that limited fire.”

Urthar Looked back at the door.  He checked the hinges as if expecting something.  “I like your estimate of what happened.  But my question is how did it get in?”

This is where Carthor’s face paled.  “From what we can tell.  There was no forced entry.  We can only guess that someone let it in on purpose.”

Urthar eye’s narrowed and almost seemed to close with the wrinkles.  His voice had iron “Find out who.”

Author's Note

This is a writing challenge I have started to apply myself to. Someone Gives me a scene and I write it. One page minimum. I hope to improve even if a little through this. I take all requests.