Story of Mystery 2
The Secret of the Author
The house was not how big, was on the outskirts of a small town, in a flank by a cassava garden on the left right, in front of the house there was only an empty yard full of weeds.
The night was late, in one room in the small house looked a young man was sitting relaxed, there was a mobile phone in his right hand. He was named Ancala, an amateur writer. Ancala at that time seemed fun to look at the screen of his phone while sometimes smiling. His smile as he looked at the numbers showed his popularity was rising. He spent the whole night trying to come up with new ideas for his story.
Such nights, when silence covers where he lives, new ideas often emerge, about gripping stories, and terrors that leave a thousand mysteries.
Once, Ancala almost gave up on writing. Not without cause, but because he considers the world does not appreciate his work. Dozens and even dozens of stories uploaded, minimal readers who are interested in enjoying the results of his work.
Fortunately, he is not a quintessential young man. Always take the time to re-correct his writings, and compare them with other writers. Even in his intention to look for nights that are considered sacred, to add to the mystical work he made.
And all of that is now bearing fruit. His mystery work is more and more loved, awaited by his loyal fans. Some positive comments further add to his enthusiasm to continue writing. Ancala is very eager to pin a deep fear, as a gratitude for the lovers of his writing.
The lamp in the room measuring 3 x 4 meters was flickering. The young man directed his gaze upwards for a moment. The spider's nest clumps around the container of the light bulb. Ah, it seems that he needs to buy a new bulb tomorrow, he thought.
Then his finger shifted the phone screen. The Bloody Knife Terror. Ancala remembered very well, the story was the beginning of his increasing popularity as a writer. A story that tells of the murders committed by a mysterious figure in the middle of the night, armed with a blackened knife, covered with blood! Blood dries from its victims! And what adds to the mystery is that the killer didn't get caught. The horrified look of the last victim who recognized the killer was a close person, before one stab ended the victim's life, that's the ending of the story he made.
Ancala smiled again. The genius! One word was thrown in the young man's heart to remember the end of the story.
His right hand reached for a glass on the table, gulped at its contents. Damnit damnit! It's over apparently. With lazy Ancala woke up. His feet stepped out of the room, in the dining room he opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and poured into the glass he carried. His eyes looked towards the wall clock, at half-time.
Sipped water in a glass several times, filled it back almost full, put the bottle back into the refrigerator, and again he stepped into the room with the glass in hand. .
After struggling for almost half an hour, Ancala's face seemed radiant, her half-spawned eyes wide open, something came to her mind, an idea had been obtained! The mystery of the dead body depends! That's the title for the next mystery story!
Ancala's hands were clenched, she was arranging the course of the story. A story of the terror of the killer man, who lurks in the middle of the night, with a strong rope looking for the reproach of the prospective victims, and will quickly finish once the opportunity arises, hang it until the eyes bulge and the tongue protrudes! Uhh. must have caused a sensation of fear for his readers.
Buty? How's ending! ? The young man frowned, for some time he seemed to think hard, until spontaneously his fist suddenly hit the table. Yep! he will make at the end of the story found two bodies, dead with a blue neck like strangulation, and a rope mine is between the bodies. Well, it's over the murderous terror. Eits! It is not that simple, because he will add the inscription, that none of the two bodies is the killer, because it is just the trick of the Assassin to confuse the investigation, as it is, while the spreader of terror remains free to roam, go, look for new hunting areas.
Steady! Ancala cried in the heart. Everything is neatly arranged, only later he added flavoring spices to add a horror impression to the story. Screams, blood, roars in the darkness, those kind of things.
His head nodded in satisfaction, he got up from his seat. His step towards the kitchen, an old cupboard he pointed to, pulled the drawer into the closet. Look at his eyes exploring, his hands prying. Oh, honey, he didn't find the stuff he was looking for. His feet then stepped towards the back door, the door opened, the cold air slipping in. Flapping the night bird from the darkness did not surprise the young man, his hands fumbling on the edge of the back wall of the house.
A long rope held his hand. That thing! According to his will. Then he took a knife, deftly cut the rope. After getting what he wanted, Ancala went back into the house. Grasped his hand now rolled a bundle of rope that is quite long. Pulling the rope with his two hands, quite strong.
The young man went back into the room, grabbed a dark, worn jacket hanging behind the door and wearing it. Then crammed the rope into the jacket. A black hat is worn over his head.
A story will greatly influence the reader if there is a similar event actually happens, it's Ancala's belief. The idea for the story he had made, now all he had to do was make an incident that resembled, not need to be exactly the same, one victim was enough. This will increase the popularity of his writing. The grin on Ancala's lips.
Then the young man rushed to the front door. Uh, his leg stumbled with a big plastic sack in the middle room. Aih, why did he forget to throw away the story material last week? The Bodies in the Sack, that's the title of the mystery story a week ago. A moment Ancala shook her head. It must be because he was too busy cluttered in his room. But no matter, he will settle later, after all, all that to satisfy the imagination of his fans.
So-called.
