Point of View of the Police.
On an ordinary, dark April night, we received a call at call at the station; a call from a woman who had just heard sounds coming from an old mans house. She endeavored in trying to explain what she had heard, but only reported a disturbance. We immediately left, taking the path to arrive at the old man‘s house minutes later…
As soon as we got to the house a boy opened the door and welcomed us inside; a gruesome feeling told me something was wrong. In a cursory manner we searched the house and the boy invited us to some coffee since we seemed dehydrated, or so I thought. We conversed, but after a while he got distracted. We told him of how we went to some of the neighbors who endeavored to corroborate but what they all heard was just one scream, when suddenly succumbed to the pressure and he admitted that he committed the crime. I grimaced, and gingerly told him to repeat what he just said, it couldn’t be right. Why would he do it?
Clad with sweat he repeated it: “Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! – tear up the planks! – here, here! – it is the beating of his hideous heart!” We sat in shock for a few minutes and then my partner took the boy into custody. I stayed behind and looked at the corpse. The stone dead corpse…
No comments:
Post a Comment