The Lost Murder

Trails of blood through every hallway. Gun powder over the floor. It stains the carpets. Bullet holes shred the walls. Blood on his hands. BANG! He hears a hard knock. BANG! Another. BOOM!

 “DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

 “Oh crap!”

 He runs out towards the back opening the window and sprints as fast as he can. He hides behind a building as a bright spotlight shines from above. His heart racing as fast as a race car on a track. He walks out from behind the wall and has a light flash on his eyes. He can’t see who it is but he catches a glimpse of a shiny badge. Police, he thought.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP! NOW!”

 The cop shouts. He slowly raises his hands then sprints behind himself. He suddenly feels excruciating pain go up his back. He swings his body up fast. Feels drenched in some liquid.

“Oh…It was a dream.” He’s covered in sweat.

“Gross.”

            He’s startled by his phone ring. A deep voice starts,

“Ben…we need you for this one.”

 Ben leaps out of bed and showers quickly. He’s half way dry from the shower and he puts on his suit with snazzy dress shoes and a large beige trench coat. He runs out into his garage and starts his Porsche. He opens his rusty garage door and peels out onto the street and into the night.

“JESUS CHRIST,”

 he exclaims. The digital clock in his car reads midnight exactly. The roads are slick with oil from old hot rods and rain from the dripping gutters of house roofs.

            Ben arrives at High Point State Park in New Jersey. He leaps out of his car and runs over to the Chief of CSI and asks,

“What’s the scene now Chief?”

 “Well,” he says. “Well. We got a couple murdered in their own home. Looks like they were killed with a few shotgun blasts. Bodies got shredded.”

 The Chief led ben to where the murder took place.

“Oh my god!” ben exclaimed,

“It’s a blood bath.”

 “I’ll go get my tools,” Ben said.

“Alright,” said the Chief.

“Call me if you discover anything big.” “Ok,” Ben answered.

            Ben goes back to the scene with his tools. They’re hidden in a large black brief case with golden hinges.

“Wow,” he says.

“Time to get goin’.”

 Ben first starts by examining the blood trails on the floor. He snaps on his gloves and takes out the long nosed tweezers to prick a piece of carpet to get a sample of blood. Next he starts by brushing around for finger prints along the bed head boards, the cabinets and the fireplace bricks. He finds nothing but he takes a sample of gunpowder from the carpet to analyze that at the testing lab he works at. Finally, he takes a bullet from the wall to analyze as well. The bullet is covered in fiber glass and dust from the four teen year old home.

“Well, now that that’s done. I’ll head to the test room to analyze these samples,”

 Ben says to himself. Ben begins to make his way out of the house and he suddenly feels a sharp pain in his head. He blacks out for a second and has a flashback of his dream he had that same night. He feels himself getting shot in the back. Feeling pain he’s never felt before. He comes to and he gets back up from falling in a chair.

“What the?” “Well that was weird.” He says to himself. “Wait…was that me?” “Did I…murder those people?” “No…I couldn’t have.”

 He brushes it off and makes his way to his car. Starts the engine and takes off towards the lab. He makes it to the lab with the samples still intact and takes the elevator to the testing room.

            “Let’s get started.”

 He first analyzes the blood from the carpet. Nothing interesting found but regular blood cells. Next he analyzes the bullet from the wall.

“Oh,” he says. “From a Remington 870 shotgun.” He then tests the gunpowder. “Same thing. From a Remington 870 shotgun,” not surprised.”

 He says. After what feels like a never ending night, he heads home. Jumps in his car, starts the engine and takes off towards his home. He gets home and instantly falls on his couch. He falls into a deep sleep and sees a man and a woman dead in the same house he was just investigating. He starts uncontrollably running towards the back of the house to exit. He runs by trails of blood through the house. He runs by bullet holes in the wall. By gunpowder that's on the carpet. He wakes up and jolts off his couch.

"What the hell? Did I really kill those people?" he wonders. "I couldn't have. I'm not a killer!"

 he yells. He runs to his basement and hides the evidence. He calls the Chief and says,

"Hey Chief! I solved the case!" "Good job!"

 the Chief says.

"What did you find out about them?"

 He makes up a lie about the couple committing suicide even though he hasn't figured out anything about the case. He's trying to cover up the case because he doesn't want anyone to find out he committed the crime.

"Hey Ben, why don't you bring those samples to the lab for further analysis?"

 "Oh yeah, I'll bring them to you right away."

 he lies. Instead of bringing the real samples he brings a piece of his carpet and puts corn starch with food coloring on it, let's it dry. Instead of bringing the real gunpowder he brings a burnt wick and crushes it up very finely, and instead of bringing the real bullet he makes one out of paper mache. He tells the Chief to come to his house to get the samples and so the Chief does. He comes and gets the samples,

"Thanks Ben!"

 "No problem Chief, take care!"

 he says. The Chief goes back to the lab to examine the samples. He realizes that the samples are fake and jumps in his car, starts the engine and peels out towards Ben's house. Gets to Ben's house and knocks down the door.

"WOAH WHAT THE FU-"

 "Shut up Ben. I know what you did. You gave me made up samples. Didn't you?"

 "Ok, I did but-" "No buts, you're fired."

 he says.

"Wait no, please." "No, that's no acceptable, that's not what I need at the CSI. I need an honest employee. Screw off Ben." He walks out of Ben's house and slams the door.

            The next year ben keeps having these hallucinations. Hides in his basement. He's going insane. He's obsessed over this one dream. He hasn't shaved his face in forever. He has shrimp in a fish tank, he eats one every day. Every day. Insane and more insane every day. He has a noose tied up in a closet. It's been hanging there for months. He finally opens the closet door and stands on the chair. Puts his head through the noose. He kicks the chair from his feet and begins to choke and blacks out. He jolts up and breathes once again. Another dream I suppose.