Prologue
A cold wind blew at the top of the cliff on Hillbury lane. A dark figure shivered as the wind picked up. They were drawing on a piece of paper. “Stop right there!” A determined voice cried. The figure ignored the voice and continued drawing. “In the name of Officer Hart, I command you to put your hands up.” The figure continued to draw.
The grass on the ground was a dark grey in the dead of the night. The trees blew ominously as if warning what was yet to come. The crickets chirped as a small stream trickled down the cliff.
Drip-
Drip-
drip-
After a while, the figure began to get up. “Stay there! The police are on their way!” The voice belonged to a young man who looked about 20. The man had brown hair, large tawny eyes, and a chiseled jaw. He looked like he would be the star of some Hollywood romantic movie, who had all the girls fawning over him. In fact, he was quite the opposite.
“Hey! Stop!” cried the man. The figure got up, paper in hand, and started running. The man, determined to catch this criminal, chased the figure all the way up the cliff, only for the figure to disappear. “Where did they go?” he muttered angrily, stomping the ground.
CRACK-
The man had stepped on something. Slowly, he looked down at what he had stepped on. Time seemed to stop. The radio the man was holding slowly dropped to the ground. There on the grass, there was a terrible sight. The nighttime silence broke with a bloodcurdling scream.
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