I'm currently working on a module called "Scene of the Crime" with my Year 8's and they seem to be enjoying it. The resources I'm using are lacking a few things that I think would enhance the learning so I'm building up some of my own to boost it further. Since the crime scene we were studying and writing about had no conclusion, I decided to write my own interpretation of the story, in the voice of the dead character who is writing beyond the grave... This is it!
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I’m not quite sure where I am right now but all I know is that it is really dark in here. My father always used to tell me as a child that a man should never be afraid of the dark but I’m a grown man who knows that it’s alright to be scared of a dark place, especially when it’s closing in on you and you feel like you can’t breathe. Maybe I really can’t breathe? I try to remember where I was the last time I could remember. I calm myself and close my eyes. I start counting backwards from 15. It’s always been my lucky number.
15.
I’d just changed into my striped cotton pyjamas, the same kind I'd been wearing for the past 30 years or so. I had recently come across a place that sold the same pyjamas that my mother used to buy for me, but for adults. Every time I wear them, I remember the sweet moments of peaceful rest that would come after putting them on. I had just come back from a lovely evening with a beautiful woman I had been seeing for the past few months. They've been a whirlwind romance and I think I’m going to marry her one day, as soon as I pluck up the courage to do so. I've already chosen for her to be the person to whom I leave everything to after I depart this world. She is my world.
14.
I hear some shuffling outside, followed by the quick, short barks of my neighbours dog. Mrs Florence Digby has a giraffe like neck which came into considerable use when it came to spying on myself and all the other neighbours in the vicinity. Her nose was unusually large and what with the claws that she called fingernails, she fit right in with the animal kingdom of pets she kept in her house. I then heard the heavy clang of metal on metal. I looked out of my window and can’t seem to see anything. It’s too dark outside so I just assume that it's Mrs Digby tripping over something or another and hitting whatever it is with her metal walking stick.
13.
All is quiet. I'm about to head to bed when I hear more shuffling outside my window. I would have ignored it had I not seen my garage light turn on. That's odd, I remember thinking, it only switches on when there's movement right beneath it. I come to my window and slowly pull back the curtain to survey the area.
12.
My garage door is wide open. I could have sworn I had locked it up earlier. Maybe I had been in too much of a dizzy trance from my perfect evening that I hadn't done so at all.
11.
I head downstairs, not bothering to wear a night gown or a jacket, even though I know that there's a slight chill in the air. I slip on my shoes and grab my keys.
10.
I walk out of my house and close it behind me gently, for fear of banging it shut in my haste and waking all the neighbours.
9.
I freeze. There's the sound of movement inside my garage. I would have passed it off as a badger but I could hear the grunts of what sounded like a fully grown man, one who seemed to be looking for something. I inch closer to my garage door.
8.
Something's wrong. My lock has been broken open and there is blood all over it.
7.
I'm almost at the garage door. I can see the shadow of a man inside. Just a few more steps and I'll be able to see him. Step. Step. Step. I see a man bent over the lock of my car, his back to me. He is wearing a red pullover and cream trousers. I would stand and ponder over how smooth his bald head was but I'm distracted by the chains around his legs. I gasp.
6.
He turns immediately, levelling the tool in his hand at me and raising a short stubby finger before placing it on his lips, warning me to keep quiet. I think I shouted at him at this stage but I think I angered him. He's coming towards me.
5.
I begin to back away slowly. I open my mouth to shout and suddenly he's running towards me and scrambling to cover my mouth with his grotesque sausage fingers. I'm trying to break free. I'm trying to shout. He's too strong. He holds me tight and I begin to claw at his hands, his face, his neck, his clothes, anything I can get my hands on.
4.
He keeps trying to stop me from making any noise or running away. I try to put all my energy into pushing him away and for a split second, I think I've managed to get rid of him.
3.
I make a mad bid to escape and suddenly he's jumped and grabbed my legs. I scream with all my might and keep kicking my legs, trying to break free. I can see him panicking, a desperate hunger to not be caught in his eyes, like that of a prisoner who doesn't think they'll ever see sunlight unless they escape.
2.
There's a crow bar on the floor, literally centimetres away from one of his arms. He follows my eyes and sees it. Momentarily he lets go of my legs to pick it up and I trip before picking myself back up. It's too late, he's on his feet too!
1.
In the brief milliseconds that came before the darkness, my life flashed before my eyes. I see my parents, Easter holidays in Wales, long Summers with friends, her eyes, her beautiful eyes, the ring I had picked out, the visit to my lawyers office to change my will to include her, her Mona Lisa smile, the way she tucked her hair nervously behind her ears when she saw me. The man raises the crowbar and I feel a pain in my head that can't be human. I feel myself sway, a quick dance with the angel of death before the ground rushes up to meet me. Everything goes black.
0.
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