literature

The Man who believed

Deviation Actions

esregnetkekse's avatar
Published:
287 Views

Literature Text

The Man who believed



"The man who knew how" from Buckle's point of view



Another Thursday evening and I was still sitting in the train waiting to get to the next crime scene." I love my job as a crime-reporter but those long train journeys are just so nerve-racking!" I thought and looked around. There was only one man sitting opposite me who was trying to read an inadequate crime story. I was so bored that I just kept staring at the man to freak him mentally out – one of my bad habits when I am bored. I looked at him with my faked secret face and I noticed him slowly getting restless.  He offered me one of his crime stories, but I refused politely and replied:


"I don't really like crime stories because of the incompetent murders. The ones in real life are carried out in a better way."


"He didn't seem convinced. Even better. Now I can tease him, have a bit of fun and tell him about my perfect murder with sulphate of thanatol and a hot bath," I thought. The man seemed to believe me and wanted to know how the crime is committed, but that would be too easy. I told him just enough to make him feel anxious.


"Please pay attention, the next station is Rugby."


"Dear me! Rugby already. I get out here. I have a little bit of business to do at Rugby."
I said, got up, buttoned my raincoat and got of the train.
I checked into the hotel and finally went to sleep.

·

A few weeks later, I went to another crime scene where an old man – Mr. Skimmings – died in his bathroom. There were quite a lot crime scenes connected with bathrooms lately – Odd coincidences that happen lately. I smiled slightly, because I was finally done interviewing the housekeeper and it was already dark and cold outside. I put my coat collar up and opened the gate. My eyes kept wandering around and I was falling in a fast walking pace to get to my car as fast as I could.

The wind was blowing strong and suddenly a familiar face crossed my way. It was the man with the inadequate crime stories. We fell into step together and were talking about the deaths in the bathrooms. The man started to slow down and wanted to go into his house. He hesitated and asked me if I want to come in for a drink. I accepted his invitation, because I was really tired and still had to drive for a couple hours - a break would really do me good. "Maybe he wants to invite me, because he knows about my joke with the sulphate of thanatol, or maybe because he doesn't? Well if he doesn't than I can keep playing around with him for a while." That's what I thought when I stepped into his bachelor study. The man was talking about the deaths and laughing nervously. He asked me about the sulphate of thanatol, but I just pretented to not have heard a word about it. To get him off the sulphate topic I asked him about his book collection. He pulled out a book and looking at the fly-leaf I saw the name E. Pender on it. "I guess now I know the name of my curious friend." I told him that my name is Smith and was joking around and surprised that Pender didn't see the obvious truth. He really believed me and started to look pale and exhausted, maybe a little bit sick as well. For that reason, I poured him some whisky in his glass. "That will probably make him feel better."


I put the glass down and glanced at my watch.


"Gosh! It is late already. I'm really sorry, but I'm in a hurry and still have a long drive ahead of me. Thank you for your hospitality and maybe our paths will cross someday soon." I said mysteriously and left the house.

·

Three weeks later, I found myself in Lincoln. A man had died, of course, in a Turkish bath. The verdict of accidental death was through and I could finally leave the court of law. I hailed a taxi and was just getting ready to get in, but all of the sudden someone clutched me fiercely by the shoulder. I turned my head and recognize Pender. He was yelling something about me mixing a bad substance in his whisky. Fortunately, there were two policemen who knew me and my work; they pulled him of me and dragged him to the side of the street. I got into my taxi, happy to get home, but still thinking about the unexpected meeting with Pender. I hope he didn't take it for granted that I wanted to poison him; I really didn't mean to scare him. He just looked sick and I wanted to do him a favor. Oh well, another story I can tell my colleagues when we are observing one of our crime scenes.

·

Spring was almost gone, I forgot about the incidence with Pender, the crime-scenes were getting less and I was feeling relaxed the first time in the past half year. Even though the sun was almost coming through, the days were foggy and cold and a thick blanket of mist was hanging over the river as though it were November. I came out of the court and was on my way to an interview. The cold ate my bones and I fell into a fast walking pace to get to the interview with the widow of the dead man as fast as I could. I couldn't see my hand in front of my eyes so I just walked and walked, orientating myself on the glow of the street lamps. The mist swallowed each sound and I felt like I am the only person in the world. Officially I stopped smoking, but now that no one can see me, I am craving for a pull on a pipe. I tamped the tobacco in the bowl and struck a match.


All of the sudden, I heard steps coming from behind and turned around. Don't ask me why, but from that moment on everything happened in slow motion. I saw a familiar person pulling something out of his pocket and recognized Pender. He raised his arm with a sandbag in it to strike a blow and I realized that my time was up. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow to hit me. I felt an explosion on my head and saw stars. Everything went black abruptly and I saw my life passing in front of me.  


"Oh no!" was my last thought before I irrevocably fell into the dark. The smell of hot chocolate was in the air and I felt wistful for never being able to have one.
OK, so we did this in my english Class and I did it together with Sarah...
So the original story is called *The man who knew how* from Dorothy L. Sayers
and we were supposed to write the story out of someone else's point of view.
Hope you enjoy reading it and I hope there are no mistakes

[I have NO idea, if this is the right categorie or not... I never submitted texts before]
© 2009 - 2024 esregnetkekse
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In