Post by Beo on Oct 15, 2016 18:42:04 GMT -4
The woman's lips were beginning to turn blue. That was the first out of four things Harvey had noticed. The second thing was that she was bleeding, the third was that the both of them were in a dark alleyway, and the fourth was that today was New Year's Eve. In three hours, it'd be January 1st 1955. Did it look bad?
I guess you could say that.
~~~
Let's go back. Way back. The year is 1930, and a healthy baby is staring up at what he-- and we, as well-- assume is his mother, only days after being born. His father stands behind them, only smiling. Of course, a few years later, Mother leaves the house and never comes back. Hence, Harvey lives a very sad childhood. Father is too busy, but he wishes he could have told his son how much he cared for him.
~~~
The tall man looked at the dust-bitten corpse. Blood flowed freely from her neck. Cold-blooded murder had been committed, if that wasn't already obvious. If someone found Harvey here, he'd be a prime suspect, but he couldn't just as well leave the bloodied carcass. What to do? The realisation that the crime hadn't been committed too long ago creeped into his mind like a spider. Maybe, just maybe, the murderer was still here. Indeed, a pair of white eyes stared out at him from the darkness.
~~~
Fast forward a few years, the boy is growing up. Papa has left him temporarily to attend to business in Italy. Little eight-year-old Harvey isn't playing with the other kids. He's sitting on a bench, looking at the ground.
~~~
The man adjusted his tie, looking around. Murderer, or X, as I prefer to call him, lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right time to end Harvey's life. Footsteps echo from outside the alleyway.
~~~
Fast forward another five years, Harvey is thirteen. He's a tall, lanky boy, with freckles dotting his long nose. He has dark brown curls of hair, and lovely hazel eyes. His skin is pale. The effects of puberty are beginning to appear on his face. This time, we're in a class. As he looked at his history teacher, Mr. Hubert, Harvey concluded that the man was a moustache, because of how big his facial hair was. It was true, Edward Hubert had a large moustache covering his lower face.
Harvey's big mistake? He said it out loud.
"I beg your pardon, Harvey?"
Of course, the poor boy couldn't say it again, so he returned with tomatoes for hands that day for refusing to share his interesting comment. Not even his governess could make him feel better. He just wished Mother could be here for him.
~~~
Harvey had to think fast. He covered the body as best as he could, and retreated into the shadows. X had fleed milliseconds before, or else they would have collided. The young man was just another patch of darkness when the passerby, a law enforcer, passed. The officer just narrowed his eyes before walking off, stick in hand.
~~~
I guess you could say that.
~~~
Let's go back. Way back. The year is 1930, and a healthy baby is staring up at what he-- and we, as well-- assume is his mother, only days after being born. His father stands behind them, only smiling. Of course, a few years later, Mother leaves the house and never comes back. Hence, Harvey lives a very sad childhood. Father is too busy, but he wishes he could have told his son how much he cared for him.
~~~
The tall man looked at the dust-bitten corpse. Blood flowed freely from her neck. Cold-blooded murder had been committed, if that wasn't already obvious. If someone found Harvey here, he'd be a prime suspect, but he couldn't just as well leave the bloodied carcass. What to do? The realisation that the crime hadn't been committed too long ago creeped into his mind like a spider. Maybe, just maybe, the murderer was still here. Indeed, a pair of white eyes stared out at him from the darkness.
~~~
Fast forward a few years, the boy is growing up. Papa has left him temporarily to attend to business in Italy. Little eight-year-old Harvey isn't playing with the other kids. He's sitting on a bench, looking at the ground.
~~~
The man adjusted his tie, looking around. Murderer, or X, as I prefer to call him, lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right time to end Harvey's life. Footsteps echo from outside the alleyway.
~~~
Fast forward another five years, Harvey is thirteen. He's a tall, lanky boy, with freckles dotting his long nose. He has dark brown curls of hair, and lovely hazel eyes. His skin is pale. The effects of puberty are beginning to appear on his face. This time, we're in a class. As he looked at his history teacher, Mr. Hubert, Harvey concluded that the man was a moustache, because of how big his facial hair was. It was true, Edward Hubert had a large moustache covering his lower face.
Harvey's big mistake? He said it out loud.
"I beg your pardon, Harvey?"
Of course, the poor boy couldn't say it again, so he returned with tomatoes for hands that day for refusing to share his interesting comment. Not even his governess could make him feel better. He just wished Mother could be here for him.
~~~
Harvey had to think fast. He covered the body as best as he could, and retreated into the shadows. X had fleed milliseconds before, or else they would have collided. The young man was just another patch of darkness when the passerby, a law enforcer, passed. The officer just narrowed his eyes before walking off, stick in hand.
~~~
