Hello, this is the first thing I have ever posted on wattpad! It's not very good but if you like it please say so and keep whatching for anything else I write! :)
I originaly wrote this for the south down scribes which is the name of my schools writing club, so it is writen in the three persons, 1st, 2nd and 3rd.
The friend of the dead.
'You walk down a dark street; it seems that there is no one about. Except there is one person, you know that they are there, you can sense it, but in the dark, dank twilight nothing can be seen. You have no time to compute the man leaping out from the alleyway; you barely notice the knife shining in the partial moon light.'
"No! No, no, no!" I tear the page out and throw it in the paper recycling. I'm supposed to be a writer and I can't even write on paragraph! I shrug on my suite blazer and put on my rather professional looking sun glasses and prey that no one will notice me...This time.
She picked up her bag and left the small cramped flat. She had heard the gunshot earlier that day so she figured that in a neighbourhood like this the police wouldn't be there yet. Her high heels clanked on the pavement as she walked round the corner.
There I saw it, the dead body of a young man, he appeared no older than 21. Oh no... The police were there, they were discussing what to do with the body. I can hear that the boy had no friends or relations. This is perfect, just what I have been waiting for. A pale, translucent copy of the corpse rises from the dead body. I know I am the only one that can see it. "Excuse me, I know this is a strange question but... who are you and how did you die?"
The two policemen turned round to see a woman in her mid-twenties who appeared to be talking to an empty space above the recently dead body. "Oi, you!" The taller policeman shouted.
Oh no. They know it's me. "Good bye!" I shouted to the ghost of the boy. I run or my life, not bothering with the rusty old lift, I sprint up the stairs and lock the door. I look at my grotty flat. Don't worry; things will be better when I've published my book. It's not me I'm looking out for, it's all those that have died with no friends, no family and no one to remember them. When I've finished they will never be forgotten.
She pulls out her pen and note pad and starts writing.
'You are alone; you don't know what to do with yourself, no home, no friends, no hope...'
