YCWA 2010 – Devon’s Winner

In 2010, I was 15 at the time, I entered the Young Crime Writers’ Association (YCWA) competition. I won the regional part of the competition and was shortlisted nationally. This is one of my pieces that I’m most proud of. It is almost the same copy I submitted, I have only added the phrase ‘it’s halloween, and…’, everythign else is exactly the same. Hope you enjoy it!

And Finally…

By Betony Brock

“He’s been dead for at least week.” Several Forensic Investigators surrounded a man’s body.

****

It’s Halloween, and after years of plotting and months of preparing, I’m standing here, poised and ready. The knife held tightly in my right hand, my left pinning this man – no – my enemy against the wall. His eyes wide and his face as pale as a bed sheet, looking at me, imploring me not to end his life.

“Any final words?” I rasp at my enemy. I get an amazing amount of satisfaction from saying my enemy.

He smirks, one of those ‘I know something you don’t’ smirks. “Don’t worry my amateur friend, I’m the Master, I will always have the last laugh.”

I don’t care what he thinks and I bring the knife down; and receive the satisfaction of it slicing through his chest, as he becomes paralysed with pain.

I wrap the body up in plastic and bury it in a hole in the local church graveyard, which I had dug the other day under the cover of a thunderstorm. I carefully cover the fresh earth with strips of grass, so that passer-bys will not notice the freshly dug grave. I pull on my one piece Halloween suit so I will blend in with everyone else as I make my way to the local park, on the opposite side of the district.

At the park, I dig out a square of earth and light a small fire in the back of the park and remove my Halloween costume, which I had pulled over the top of my black overalls and black gloves. I soak the clothes in petrol and I throw the clothes into the fire, the flames lick hungrily at them. I watch as all the clothes burn beyond recognition and the fire dies. After spreading the ashes, I put the square of removed earth back and stamp on it until it blends in with the surrounding grass. Satisfied that everything looks normal I walk out of the park towards the local shop. I buy milk despite not needing it because I would look out of place without a Halloween costume; I need a reason to be out. I walk home trying not to look nervous, with my milk in a plastic bag held tightly in my right hand.

‘You, mister. Stop.’ I jump, I haven’t even got home. I’m a true failure. I spin round to see a couple kids dressed up as bloodied cops with various fake injuries. I almost laugh out loud as they pretend to shoot me with their fake guns. Stupid me, I should have more faith in my abilities; everyone always said that I should have more faith in myself, it’s a shame, I can’t become a famous murderer without getting caught.

I turn the corner and walk up the gravel path to my house. I put the key in the door and open it. The house is full of dark shadows and creepy corners, I turn on the lights and look around the familiar hallway. Along the base of the hall door, which leads to the kitchen, I bend down to dismantle the thin piece of string, which I set up to trip anyone who had entered my house. The string was unbroken, I haven’t been followed nor has my house been entered since I left. I put the milk in the fridge and take out the old carton and pour nearly all the milk down the kitchen sink. I watch as the white liquid slips down the plughole –slips like me, slipping away from the police.

I shove one of those cheap macaroni cheeses in the oven and set it going for ¾ of an hour. By the time it is ready I will be ready to eat it. I decide the first thing to do is to have a shower. So I spend a good 15 minutes in the shower, thoroughly scrubbing from head to toe. I then begin my end of month quick house clean. I start by the front door moving to the lounge to the kitchen, the utility, to the bedrooms and lastly at the end of the house, the bathroom.

The oven dings. I put away all my cleaning stuff and walk to the kitchen I set up a tray with my knife, fork and water on. I pour the macaroni cheese onto a clean plate and add that to the tray. I sit down and turn the TV onto my favourite quiz program. I slowly begin to eat the macaroni, savouring the melted cheese and soft pasta.

He liked to call himself the Master, but I have proven him wrong. I am the Master of the best crime. I have escaped, no one will notice him missing due to his criminal life, and he made sure he didn’t exist. After so much planning, plotting and preparing, I have done it and have escaped from the police despite committing the ultimate crime.

I sit in my soft armchair, watching TV, watching my favourite quiz show. I gasp in pain. My stomach feels like it is on fire, my eyes water and my head sears. I push my hands to my stomach, trying to push away the pain. I fall out of my chair and hit the cold floor. My head is throbbing with so much pain, it feels like it’s going to explode. Slowly blackness descends. I’m conscious but I can’t see. I fumble around and hit my head on what must be the coffee table. I’m blind, I can’t see. I smack my head to the floor and I loose all sense of time. And finally the welcoming silence and darkness comes as my enemy’s final words drift through my mind, “…I’m the Master, I will always have the last laugh.”

****

“This is the murderer but he been dead for at least a week.” Several Forensic Investigators surrounded a man’s body. “Poisoned but considering he’s murdered someone… Guilt suicide or murder…?…”

Love,

Bet x

Published by Betony

- Speech and Language Therapy Student - Vegan - Wannabe blogger - Urban Decay Addict - Harry Potter Obsessed - Disney Fan - (very) amateur dressmaker -

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