Knock Knock

I heard someone knock loudly, and then there was a scream.

A body was found. Could be illness, old age... but it wasn’t - because the next day two bodies were found.

Knock knock, who’s there? The joke is far from over...

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10. Time

I sat in a courtyard of Jack Hunter's castle, staring into the shimmering depths of the fountain before me. It was nearly dawn, but I was not relieved to see the sun again. I had make so many mistakes that the day could not erase. I pulled my journal from my satchel, along with a quill, and wrote hastily. My father had had a passion for words - it was his craft, shaping his thoughts into sentences. It was a skill I had inherited from him, but my body was too tired, my mind too weary, to form a piece of true thought and imagination. I wrote a little of what had been happening in an attempt to solve the cryptic form my thoughts had taken, in the hope that my questions would soon meet an answer.

How long has Christopher been working with Jack Hunter? I distinctly remember wincing whilst writing this, the betrayal seething into me as my ink marked the truth. I needed to hear what he had to say.

Why was Jack Hunter insistent on collecting so much money? Perhaps it was greed, but I sensed there was an underlying tone to his intentions.

Who was Daniel? His father worked for Jack Hunter, and yet he insists he did not. He did not flinch when his grandfather was killed; he was often associating with authoritative figures; he was mysterious. But what had made him this way?

I could feel a hint of sun on the back of my neck, and a cawing bird confirmed my suspicions that dawn had broken. I stood slowly, my muscles aching. I needed to find the truth - today.

 

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