There were shiny black and white photographs tied together with silver ribbon on the old ink-stained oak desk. Many black leather-bound notebooks with 'private' stamped on in small silver letters were sitting, some in neat heaps, others scattered at random. Opened envelopes with letters inside, all on yellowing paper with spidery black handwriting, were sitting in a wooden box with angels etched on its rough, unsanded surface.

In the cupboard of the desk there was a silver box. The box contained a dagger, stained with dried blood. A bigger, red leather-bound notebook with 'Life And Lies' stamped on in big, fancy gold letters and silver, sapphire-studded lockets wrapped in plaits and braids of dead hair.

The End

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