III

‘Click’.

I tried to shh my torch before quickly realising it was inanimate. I looked around the deserted schoolyard and slowly proceeded towards the front door. I had no idea how to break into a, probably highly secure, Institute of young people’s learning. My mind and eyes strayed towards a side that mostly students used on a daily basis; if I had no luck with a teacher-only door, I could try unlocking the students’ entrance with a code. Unfortunately, another task I would have to overcome would be any alarm systems and I was just hoping there wouldn’t be any to add to my troubles, otherwise I may have to just make a run for it, before I needed to do some explaining. I wondered what my mother would think if she found out I was breaking into school…

As I changed my course and reached for the side door, I noticed it was already wedged open. Carefully, I stepped inside to the view of the thin art corridor, or as much of it that I could see in non-existent light.

I shuffled forward and crashed into the rows of metal chairs set out as a display of the most odd kind. Cursing, I then grasped the wooden rail that ran along the backs of the chairs. Once I reached the end of the rail (and after I had fallen down three steps, pointlessly placed for a tier effect), I found the main light switch and illuminated my short path to the library. The artificial light surrounded by outside darkness chilled me slightly and I thanked fate that I had not far to go to the library, whilst trying not to think of the length I would have had to take from the front door.

The library door was slightly ajar when I soon arrived, which I thought was odd but I dismissed it; I had more important matters on my mind. Again, I felt tears brewing as I turned towards Mr. Craig’s body. Something was amiss (aside from the fact that no policeman were here, and no-one had removed the dead man), and I studied the body hard this time, and noticed something else odd. Even odder than a dead body in a library, with its Agatha Christie aspects, I mean: that a jacket-mad man, dead or not, would be in anywhere without his favourite jacket…

Suddenly a hand placed itself upon my shoulder, I felt a sharp blow to my head, and before I realised what was happening, everything smashed into black…

The End

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