The Unfortunate Happenings of Missy Plume

There is a reason for everything, some are reasonable, some strange but still slightly believable and some that make no sense whatsoever. Although I do very much like the strange and unexplainable this time I really must say I need a reasonably explainable, excusable reason to get me out of that noose in seven short days or at least out of this cold, dark and gloomy jail cell that I am stuck in this very moment- but you probably already know if you are reading the walls in cell no. 69, if you aren’t though this has hopefully been written and published by someone claiming to have come up with this, although unfortunate, extremely well written piece...
Thanks to Lilly Anna for the awesome cover.


9. Poilce

Chapter nine



Sirens sounded in the distance, gradually growing nearer. Under the noise of it there was the sound of footsteps. I swear that I was the only one  who heard them because they were so quiet against the deafening sirens. But they didn't stop, not until the man wearing the shoes appeared at the top of the stairs.
Butler had followed us. Really I wasn't that good at escapes.
"We need to get away!" Butler said
"No, I need to..." Pique trailed off
"Need to what? Just frame her and that's good enough."
"Uurh," frustration was evident in her breath.
She turned to the man still standing frozen and raised the gun. The man almost died of a heart attack at that. She pulled the trigger and the bullet came racing out at a rapid speed. All too soon his life ended with a gasp as it hit him perfectly in the heart. Pique then threw the gun at my feet and as then as foot steps were heard again she kneeled down next to the man as if to check if he was alive. But it was all a mask. As the footsteps grew louder she started weeping.
"'e is dead, what 'ave you done?" her acting was good, even the french accent she hid behind was believable, but anyone who had just encountered the last few minutes on top of the Arc De Triumph could see through it, but the police hadn't, "No, no, it is not possible, 'e cannot be dead." there were even tears crawling down her pale face.
"What 'as 'appened? Is 'e alright? Who could 'ave done this?" The first policeman shouted more in shock than anything else, then he saw the gun at my feet, "Aha. It was you, was it? Do not think you can get away with this girl." his eyes gleamed and although he gave off a look of anger there was sadness in his eyes, in the twitching grin that he wore.
The second policeman showed a little more uncertainty than the first as if he didn't believe that what they saw could be the whole truth, "Do you really think that a little girl could 'ave done this, it is not child's play, this is serious business. You cannot blame 'er for such things, what would people think? The police 'ave gone mad! they are arresting children, keep them inside, do not let them play!"
"Well, we could not leave a possible killer running around Pari. We must take 'er into the police station."
"Ok, but do you think this girl could be a murderer? Look at 'er."
"Looks can be wrong, my friend."
"So maybe she did not kill 'im, maybe it could be someone other than 'er? You did say looks could be wrong." this was a very valid point.
"But 'ow could it 'ave been anyone else? I saw 'er myself." that was Pique she had looked up from her acting to try and incriminate me more than I could have possibly been.
"Aha, you see, my friend, looks are not that wrong," the firs policeman seemed to need to point out.
We had been taken to the police car and people, mostly tourists, were onlooking as if it was some show, something that they might tell their friends and family at home, something that might lead them to think that Paris was not the best place to live. It wasn't, for me that is.
Really there is not much more I can tell you apart from the fact that after I got in the police car five days ago I was put in here and have been writing the happenings of this last week or so to prove that I am innocent, or at least for this crime I have been framed for.

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