Rhonwen Ackerley 5"Murder?" I gasped
"Well, Zach seems to think so." She said matter of factly
"Like, proper 'in the libary with the candlestick' murder?"
Rhonwen glowered disaprovingly, "Mia, really, if you are going to liken this case to some ridiculous board game I won't let you come."
She turned and reached for her laptop, muttering something about murders and guesswork. She snapped the computer open, causing a pile of biscuits in varying stages of consumption to cascade onto the floor. I sighed. I'd just vacuumed yesterday.
The laptop began making the regular clicks and whirs as it started up and we waited patiently. Or I did, at least. At long last the email had loaded and I was able to see the correspondence Rhonwen had recieved from her old friend.
I'm not sure how to start this message. Three days ago my great aunt, that is, my stepmother's aunt, was found dead in our guest room. As there was no reason to suspect foul play, it was announced a natural death. Aunt Lauren wa
Rhonwen Ackerley 4I'm sure you will be sorry to hear that I'm not going to disclose my address. Privacy reasons, there are some strange people about.
To fill you in I found it surprisingly easy to settle in to my new home. Rhonwen found it easier. If I recall correctly, within two days it looked as if she had been living there for months and had not cleaned once. Dispite the fact that she was, after all, a student, I had expected a certain level of hygiene from the well educated doctor-in-training and was astounded by the accumulation of paraphernalia, medical and otherwise, that made its way onto our living room floor. Once or twice I succeeded in getting my new friend to tidy, though after only a few hours, the mess would return.
It was in the first few weeks of this living arrangement that Rhonwen received her first case that I had the pleasure of working with her on. I use most of the words in the previous sentence exceedingly loosely.
"Hey Mia," she called, "That interview of you
MusicSince time began, we turn to music,
It stirs something deep within;
The song that zips like a hummingbird,
Filling your heart with ecstasy,
The low sorrowful tune
That with every slow note feels your pain,
Energy you don't have.
They say silence is beautiful though that must be a lie
If silence were truely golden
We wouldn't turn to music to block it out
Gertrude is not like the CullensYou have no idea how long it takes me to get ready in the mornings. It's a good thing I have all night.
"So you're like the Cullens?" he asked uncertainly
"No. Not in the least." I answered, "Frankly I find that question quite offensive."
"Er, sorry it's just, you know... wierd..."
"I know that." My voice had morphed into some sort of monotonal deadpan, although, in all fairness, that was the least of my worries
"Soooo... if you're not like the Cullens does that mean..." he shuffled, embarassed, "does that mean you've er..."
"Well that's not really my style." I smirked, "I don't need to kill people, do I?"
"What about... blood and stuff?"
"It's complicated." I saw that he opened his mouth to speak and anticipated his comment,"Not animal blood." I sighed.
To be honest I'm not sure what's worse - the traditional vampire stereotypes or the shiny (quite litterally in fact) new models. The shiny guys are certainly more pleasant, and it's actually quite funny to see