How we reached this story is obvious. It all started with a murder. Here's the real story.
There she lied, dying. Blood poring out of her body. John, her long lost love stood there while the others cried. He watched every gruesome moment of her death. He felt really bad, like he should have done something to help her live. The murderer was dressed in all black so John could not see who he was. He didn’t do anything; he just stood there, in shock. He did not think to move. He closed his eyes, hoping that it would be over soon. John froze like that, unable to watch his sweet Grace. Once moving had come to mind, he tried, but hcouldn't’t. coulddn’t believe it. Although he knew that the coldness of winter could give you frostbite and even numb you, he stayed there, almost frozen. Watching it go by. He tried to move, he tried to help Grace, but every time that he tried, hcouldn't’t. It was either frostbite just something inside of him telling him no, like he shouldn't help her, let her die.
Once the deed was done, his body caved in. He ran as fast as he could. He needed to help, he thought that there was something he could do on the way over across the street he kept saying, "Don't die, don't die, don't.......
All of a sudden, the paramedics were there. Helping her. Trying to make her live. The paramedics thanked John for what he had done and that he had saved them a lot of time but, there was nothing that John could do. The paramedics order John in an omnipotent voice to leave and go sit away from the crime scene. He felt like a rock. A pointless, worthless, big, grey, old rock. All of a sudden, that pointless, worthless, big, grey, old rock started to cry. He sobbed over in the corner where he could do nothing but watch the doctors examine the corpse. They took Grace on to a stretcher and took her to the hospital. John followed them, but he was not allowed to enter the room, unless they found evidence that she is alive.
“The chances are looking pretty scarce that she is alive, John” The calmly told John before walking away. “If you would like to say goodbye you may get dressed in sterile garments and you may enter the room.”
John said that he would be in soon. He would just need a moment to collect his tears and pull him together. The doctor nodded his head, and then left John to be alone inside of the waiting room.
"It is my fault." John sobbed.
"No it's not." A voice whispered, "It was mine."
The voice was so quiet; John could not recognize who the person was. When he turned around, nobody was there. They had vanished. All that was there was a rose. A black rose. It looked like the murder had killed and crushed the rose, just like they did with John's heart. He grabbed the rose, and then headed into the room. He got on the green cloths.
He turned around again. John saw some feet. He started to look up. Standing there was a doctor. They were about to take Grace to the cemetery, so they could make her a coffin.
"Did you see them?" John quietly asked.
"See what?" The doctor acted in an incredulous way.
"The murderer." John started to raise his voice.
"Nobody was here except for the other Paramedics, Grace, you, and I." He exclaimed. “You must have imagined a ghost.”
The doctor said that his name was Dr. William Yorkshire. He told John that if he kept on imagining things, to give him a call. At that note, he started to walk away. He was shuffling his hands in the most incongruous way. John tried to ignore it and watch the other paramedics put the thin, white, polyester sheet over his sweet, sweet Grace's head.
John knew that something was up; because his name....... he thought that he had heard it before. Someplace. Somehow.
John thought to himself. Was he on the news? In the tabloid; or maybe he was a friend from school some many years ago. He didn't know.
John tried to remember but hcouldn't’t. He thought as hard as he possibly could. Nothing rang a bell. He did not remember anything that happened on that day. All that he could remember was Graces death, and that was still a little blurry.
John started to exit the hospital thinking of ways that the murderer could have talked to him without him noticing him. He exited the hospital with a confused hospital on his face. He only knew one thing.
All John had known was that this killer had struck...... and will strike again.