STORY STARTER

Submitted by FreeFly

“I didn’t think about that.”

“You don’t think about anything.”

Write a story including this dialogue.

Thistle

This is a bit like Sherlock, by the way, just a different mystery that you have to solve.


“I didn’t think about that.” Ash muttered.

Rune glared at him, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, “you don’t think about anything.” A small smirk creeped onto his face. There is was, that signature look.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Ash looked back at the corpse at his feet. It truly was revolting.

It was one of a James Thistle, murdered brutally by a blow to the back of his head. His bedroom, most likely, then dragged into the kitchen, judging by the train of blood and the awkward position the body was twisted into. Well, that’s what Rune managed to deduce.

“Well, at least the murderer had some dignity to close Mr. Thistle’s eyes.” Rune remarked grimly, crouching down and prodding at the body with a gloves hand. His brows knitted together.

“Something the matter?” Ash chimed.

Rune raised a finger to silence him. His eyes scanned the body again. Blood. _Blood?_ Underneath his shirt, was a sea of blood. But no wound on his torso. The killer must have put it there. But why?

“The killer is playing a game,” Rune said, pacing back and forth, “he’s planting clues. His deader was clearly not in the right place, so he dragged James into the kitchen. But why do it so messily, I don’t know. The blood on the inside of his shirt. It’s thin blood, but the victim was blown at the back of the head, where dense, dark blood came out…” he groaned a sound of frustration, “I don’t understand. Why?”

Ash watched. Rune was never confused. To be fair, he was as well, but that was not a change to the usual. His eye caught something, “Rune. Look.”

Rune turned. A body, positioned in a sitting position on the mantelpiece. This one was of a woman’s. And… a gaping chest wound. What did this mean? It didn’t link up, none of it did. He walked over, noticing the dense blood painted on her head.

Attempting to link it up, he stared at the ground, his fingers at his temples. A man, blown in the back of the head, now with thin blood over his chest. A woman, supposedly stabbed in the chest, now with dense blood on her head. None if it made sense.

Rune kicked a chair in irritation. After composing himself, he looked at the woman, a ring on her left ring finger. She’s married, possibly engaged. One hand has an oven glove on, so she was doing housework. Possibly James’ wife, but that can’t be known for sure…

Ash merely stared. The same questions repeated in his head. Why this placement of blood? Why these two people?

Rune stepped closer to the mantelpiece, squinting at a piece of paper scrunched up in her hand. He carefully prized it out of her hands, then uncrumpled it. He read it,

‘. -. .- —. .— / .-. ..- -. .’

Morse code.


Can you figure it out?

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