THE ArTiStIc STONERS

Ambling under the cloudy night sky, I feel a silent gush of wind sweep past me. Eerie silence covers the place in a blanket. I glance at my watch while I enjoy the rhythm my footsteps make - the only sound right now. It’s 12:41 a.m. All the lights are off, excluding the streetlights. 

This is just the perfect time for this night owl. I now enter another lane. This one’s the same - just like the previous one, except for one thing. There’s a light on, in one of the houses - a flickering, dim light. I can see it through the window as I approach it. I don’t see anyone inside, but can hear some hustling movement. A chill runs down my spine. 

I just want to get out of here ASAP. 

BANG! My brain says it’s a gunshot but my heart doesn’t agree. I make a run, I run for my life, hoping no one spotted me here. No, I can’t make it through the entire lane - it’s a pretty long distance. I have to hide right now! I  find some space behind a bunch of jute sack bags, located between two houses, to my left side. The door of that house behind opens. I slip into the space, crouching behind the rice sack bags, lowering my head down. I hear footsteps approaching. I shut my eyes tight, holding my breath. Two…The footsteps of two people. Just after they walk past where I am hiding, I take a deep breath. The odor of the cigarette they smoked reaches me. I cautiously stand up and stick to the wall, making sure the coast is clear. There’s also a distinct odor of cologne in the air. I slowly turn my head towards the way they headed to. I can see them. Black overcoats, balaclavas covering the back of their heads and a spade symbol on both their necks. I silently leap out, tiptoeing all the way to my home. I gulp down my dry throat recollecting the incident. I hit my bed, tired mentally and physically.

The next thing I remember is me falling down from my bed, with a loud thud. Ow!

Begrudgingly, I open my eyes and look at the clock. It’s 9am. Shoot! I forgot to set the alarm. I slowly get up, the incident still running through my mind.

After freshening up, I switch on the TV.

BREAKING NEWS : A teenager of 17 years is found dead in his house. There’s also a note found on the table which says - Sorry Mom and Dad. It is claimed to be a suicide. The investigators are here, racking their brains to confirm if it is right.  

-Reporting from Lane 15/A, California.

My breathing pace increases and sweat trickles down my face. The body is shown. He has a gun in his hand, and what is this? The same spade symbol I witnessed earlier is on this guy’s neck too. 

I switch off the TV instantly and sigh deeply. Suicide? No way.. it has to be a murder. Those two people came out of the house that night, just after the gunshot was heard…

Shhh.. I calm myself down and keep all my thoughts at bay, for the time being.

 I decide not to step out today. After 2-3 hours of boredom, I start to focus on my hobbies, hoping they will distract me. 

Time flew and now it’s 12 a.m. There’s a news update. 

“It is confirmed by the CSIs and the detective that the teenager named James did not suicide. He was shot. This is concluded as there is no back spatter located on his hand. Moreover, the entrance wound is on the back of his head - this means that the bullet passed through his head from the back, to the front. It is quite an awkward position for anyone to shoot oneself by placing the gun at the back of the head. It is also found out that a certain sum of money is missing from James’ locker.”