A Bad Choice for a Season (One-shot)

A/N: This was a short story I wrote when I was 15 for a school assignment. I felt that it is still one of my better oneshots, considering I wrote it quite a while/2 years ago and I got the New Zealand school grade equivalent of A for this piece. :)

Hope you enjoy it!

 

 

 

 

The scene was perfect.

The dark clouds hovered over the chapel like a midnight angel overlooking the sea. Silence taped my mouth as she was carried over to the cemetery next to the small church.

The pallbearers marched on, faces full of gloom with a white complexion and deep set eyes. I was the only one showing pity for the now abandoned boyfriend Mason, who stood over by a tree near the grave last time I checked, with several sophisticated men in full blue uniforms standing behind and beside him.

Like tall slender hawks they were eying up their fresh new convict, making sure there was no escape possible for Mason. All he could do now was stare at the dying grass beneath his feet, though I swear I could hear small sniffs coming from his direction. I don't blame him. I most probably wouldn’t stand being motionless after being falsely accused of murder, so I figure he is coping very well with the situation.

 

I look away, shivering from a sudden chill from my spine. I can’t help it. He’s a good guy now, not the thieving teenager he used to be. I bet he’s wishing that the real murderer would turn themselves in, but I am definitely not planning to drive over to the station. I swing around as my other band mates join me.

“Don’t worry Wynter,” said Rocky. He’s the bassist in the band. “Our old singer’s rocking out in heaven now, and hey, at least she’ll finally have a good quality microphone now.” Rocky and Louie, our drummer, quietly chuckled, but all I could manage was a small smile. Louie gave me a hug, and then left me to go watch the lowering of the coffin. I moved over to a flower arrangement and traced my finger over a black rose. I delicately pulled the flower out and grasped the stem, making the thorns dig in to my skin.

 

All of a sudden, a young looking detective jogged over to Mason’s guards, making me turn my head slightly allowing me to listen into their conversation.

“Constable, we found something interesting in the victim’s garage to prove that her boyfriend did not spike her drink.” The constable turned to face the detective and showed a face of curiosity.

“Go on.” This made the detective shift his weight a little.

“We have tested objects that the victim touched in the past twenty four hours, and found a load of poison on her microphone.”

 

In seconds I’m on the ground. The pictures of last Saturday’s band practice stitch together and start to replay.

 

 

 

“Okey dokey guys n’ gals! Lets take five.” Opal had hardly finished her sentence before Rocky shoved his bass guitar onto a stand and sprinted out through the door to the kitchen. “Save some root beer for us Rocks!” She giggled as she walked out, leaving Louie and I alone. Louie hopped out from behind the drum kit and walked over to me.

“Looks like you need help missy.” I hardly laughed, and at that point he knew something was up. He held my hand and looked at my fingers. “Far out I think you shredded your fingers more than your music. You should tell Opal.” I winced as he ran his finger over the cuts.