Never Alone Version Two

I'm writing Never Alone, my first completed Movella, again as I want to make it even better. I might even send it to a publisher. Here goes...

After a young thrillseeker gets bored in the summer holidays, she comes up with a fun-sounding, if strictly illegal, boredom-buster. Break into, and take photos of, some celebrities homes. Will Smiths' place= Too easy. Casa de Jennifer Aniston= She could do it blindfolded. However, a dare from her best friend leaves her getting caught by the owner of Mansion Number 3. If that wasn't scary enough, the owner died when she was 12.

Now, 15-year-old Diana has a huge secret to hide, and an even bigger one to uncover. Both could leave her the same way as her ghostly companion.

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11. Criminal Record? Who Cares!

 

After the explosion, I searched through the debris for any clues. Usually there'd be what's left of a triggering device, which I could hand over to the crime lab for testing. All there was though, was a laminated note, with the plastic cover half-melted. Clearly they'd left a message for the intended victim, and I'd found it.

"Seems familiar? You had your-does that say chance, or change?" I asked, as there was a melted river of plastic running right over that word, making it hard to see.

"Chance. We're past asking, now we've moved on. 2 years, 20 years or 30 years from now, you'll regret saying no to us. You, and everyone close to you, will regret it."

The prickly atmosphere got everywhere. It ran down my arms, pulling up goosebumps, stealing around corners and whooshing under my clothes. I bet, if I went over to a mirror and pulled my tank top up; I'd see angry, red claw-marks going down my back. They didn't come from any thrillseeking, but from the sheer evil, and I don't use that word lightly, put into that message.

"Is the other note intact?" I asked, desperate for the tension to be broken.

"It's fine. It got forced across the room from the blast." TG replied, as I went over to it.

It was fixed to the wall, by a nail forced right through it from the explosion. It ripped loudly as I pulled it free; thankfully not tearing the music printed on it.

"Why would they send you sheet music? Particularly only half of it, when it's clear you can write it yourself?" I asked, scanning down the notes. I couldn't make heads-or-tails of it, but it seemed to stir up a memory.

I was in the mansion, but there was something different about it. I couldn't place what it was, but it was there. I was searching for something or someone, and I was petrified of what would happen when I found it, or them. Hairs, standing to attention on my neck, and staring unseen death in the face. Loud sounds, music and not music at the same time. Shock, and being scared, then anger and confusion.

I knew exactly where the other half of the music was, and it was in this very mansion.

Wordlessly, I went somberly through the corridors towards the living room. The delicate paper in one hand, and the elegantly decorated piano under the other. It was here, crumpled and ripped along the bottom in a defiant gash. The other half of the music.

"You don't think...they fit together?" TG asked quietly, as I took the other half of the paper in my hand. Slowly, I moved the paper pieces together, so the fuzzy, ripped edges were touching.

They fit perfectly, with the rip dancing through the middle. All the edges lined up perfectly, so it had to match.

"Yeah, they fit. Know it?" I asked.

TG leant over me, running his pale silver finger along the notes. He whispered the names of the notes quietly, adding in a few lyrics.

"Hand over life to her, owe all stress and strife to her, never know when it will happen. When the Woman From Vienna will turn."

"Woman From Vienna. Is that what it's called?" I asked.

"That's right. No wonder they hid it; the leader of the Illuminati is a woman, and they're based in Vienna. This is a hidden-in-plain-view attack on the Illuminati."

"Ouch."

"Exactly. Vienna's where the trouble's kept, and where we need to go."

Vienna! I had no clue that I'd have to go to Austria. "I don't have a passport though, and I'm too young. You have to be 16 to travel abroad on your own."

"Who said anything about a flight? Just trust me, and I'll get you there."

I trust him completely, after all, he saved my life. "Alright, I trust you."

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