McIsaac

The Investigation

As the sound of barking dogs slowly faded away, Hunter stopped, listening. They weren't still following. They had called it a day. He heard nothing. Nothing at all but the dripping of the rain on the slick wet cobblestones. He saw no one. Nobody at all.   Alone, it wasn't the first time that word crossed his mind, but it still hurt as much as ever.  

He shuddered thinking of the horrible fire that put an end to his parent's life. He ran back over to the wreckage of the mansion, just a ten blocks away.  Hunger gnawed at his stomach, making every move painful. When he arrived, he started looking for anything he could salvage. He had been returning to the burned out house for weeks. There was never anything he kept, all was charred and ruined. Hunter asked himself, for not the first time, what he believed happened to his home. For that question, no one had an answer. Hunter doubted the concept of a kitchen fire, because his father rarely cooked, and his mother had moved out ages ago.  Hunter brushed away those thoughts and kept looking.  He found the kitchen, scorched and full of ashes. It was a wreck, just like the rest of the house. 

Disappointed, in not finding anything of interest, Hunter started out of the house, then, a shard of  glass caught his eye. Excited , Hunter turned to pick it up. It was very sharp, and it cut into his hand as he picked it up. Blood trickled out of the wound, dripping onto the piece of glass. It was the remains of a picture frame, with a picture of his whole family. A photo opportunity he would never get  again. Sadly, Hunter examined the picture, it was on his mother's thirty fourth birthday, when the icing on the cake melted and left the top of the cake bare, with excess icing dripping down the sides. Hunter smiled, remembering the good times he had with his family. 

Hunter shoved the picture into his worn out  backpack and quickly hurried on his way.