WHO KILLED MANDY?
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- Parts 3
Ongoing8m
Last published Thu, Aug 27, 2020
SYNOPSIS:
17 years old Claire, as what the people around her think, is trouble. And because of a pass that she doesn't usually talk about, she was sent into a boarding school in the middle of nowhere. She's only allowed to use her cellphone once a week and she can't event make calls sometime because of bad reception. Who is she going to call anyway? She has no one, except her parents who decided to leave her in a place in the middle of nowhere because they think she's a psycho. And when she thought that her life couldn't be any more worse than it already is, she was then thrown into the middle of a big mess. Someone inside the school decided that it would be fun to murder everybody. One by one and day by day someone just randomly disappears to be seen dead. Now she has to figure out who the killer is and get the hell out of this place before the person behind all of this mess decided that it's her turn to die. Well at least she have new found friends to help her solve this mystery...or does she? Can she truly trust them? Are one of them the killer? Why is the killer doing this anyway? Can she trust anyone in this place? After all, she was surrounded by mentally unstable people.
And who's Mandy?
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#367
crimesolving
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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