Five hundred and eight words. That's how many words were now in Annalise's book. The last sentence she wrote had sixteen words in it. She was getting better at this.
Who am I kidding? Thought Annalise. I can't concentrate on this right now. Her thoughts were occupied by the strange girl and her house. Since when does a mystery fall into the laps of girls like Annalise?
Not often. That's why she was determined to find out what was going on.
This is childish. Stop wrapping your mind around this mystery and start acting like an adult! Annalise's thoughts strangely sounded like her mother. She rolled her eyes. Fine. A plan. Every responsible adult has a plan. My plan: find out what's going on and compete my book. This is exactly what Annalise needed for her book. A real life experience.
Tonight she would return to the house. It was decided.
For the next few hours, Annalise wandered around in the mystery section of the library and rehearsed the questions she would ask the girl that night. It would go something like this:
Annalise: "Who are you?"
Girl: "My name is ______"
Annalise: "Why are you here?"
Girl: *answers question*
Annalise: "Are you in some kind of trouble? Cause if you are, let me help you!"
Girl: "Yes I am. Please help me!"
Ok. So the girl's responses were really dumb. But it helped Annalise remember what questions to ask.
For the rest of the day, Annalise thought about the minor mystery, stared at people, pretended to work on her book, and ate tacos and ice-cream.
She finally went home and gathered a few things: rope (in case she needed to tie someone up), a notebook (to jot down things for her book or things on her grocery list), two bags of chips (if Annalise and the girl got hungry), and a flashlight. The only reason she brought the flashlight, was because the main characters in mystery novels always seemed to have one. She wanted one just in case.
Before she left, Annalise looked in the mirror and gave herself the daily glance. Then, Annalise left her house and crossed the street to the old, dilapidated house.
YOU ARE READING
Trails of Secrets
General Fiction"So, what's your name?" "Yeah... about that. I don't know." "Don't know what?" "My name." "How can you not know your own name? Were you never given one or something?" "I don't remember it." ~~~ Just a small, average town. Quiet. Peaceful. Friendly...
