This story will soon be here! I have to right it tho.. lol! If u want a story up here please email at me at: almightyjak30.aol.com

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1. A story

2. All of it has been edited

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Bloody Gentalmen in a Rude City

By Keithyy

The strong smell had welcomed me into the shabby apartment. Imediatly I knew it was decomposition. This was extreemly different from my last job, in the crime lab. Now, I was accually seeing the crime scene, and it freaked me out a little.
As I grew closer to the back of the apartment with thy and other investigator, Jake, the smell grew worse. We looked at the body and knew the smell could have been recognized earlier and reported to the apartment landlord, but no one cared. In this large bustling city, all many people think about is “Me” “Me!” “ME!!!” and this decomposing body was an example of this harsh attitude.
It was my first day working outside the lab, and I was glad that Jake was working with me today, he’s an awesome friend to me. Though a differnt setting, the body didn’t look very differnt than when it would in the morg. Well, you know there is the sheet over them, and other morg items, but other than that, it was basically the same.
Then, growing closer to the body, I had noticed that I had seen this man before, just that I couldn’t pick his name out, or where I had seen him. Though, I do remember seeing him act like a friendly gentleman to everyone. This is one of those cities that does not have enough people like this in it.
As I collected the evidence, I saw that there was an out of place blood drop about twenty-five feet away from the body. Almost imediatly I checked if it was human blood.
Negative, it was an animal’s blood.
This puzzled me, though I swabed a sample and put it in an evidence envolope.
Next, I had to dust for prints. The apartment wasn’t very large, though dusting was a long process that took about ten minutes. Thankfully, I accually did find a partial print and a whole one. I was only able to find the whole, as Jake told me, you have to have a keen eye to find the partials.
This had been a clean murder.
The time had been passing by, and Jake and me had finished collecting all the evidence, and were waiting for Christy to come and pick the body up and take it back to the morg. We thought that she was never comming, as we sat and looked for things to do. A few minutes later, she walked through the door, with her equipment, and telling her exuse for being late.
“Hey guys, sorry I’m SOOO late… You know how horrible the traffic can get around here, and this apartment wasn’t that easy to find… Well you get the point.”
“It’s alright Christy, though we were just about to go get a cab for Mr. Dead Man over there to the morg.” Jake replied sarcastically.

After Christy had asked us the usuall questions and us giving the usuall answers, we left the scene. On the long car ride back to the lab to analyze the data, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man. The way he had been murdered mainly. All the gashes everywhere, it had been like something from those horror novels that I had read in my spare time. With this new job, I would end up spending less time reading about the fake murder scenes, and seeing the real murder scenes.
Much later after the evidence was being investigated, I went over to collect the results on everything that had been processing. The animal blood that was collected turned out to be a parot’s blood. Now I was utterly stunned, confused, and weirded out, this was even weirder than the novels i read! Also, there was the prints that we had collected, but they had no match in our system.
Completely puzzled, I looked through the other evidence, trying to at least figure out the murder weapon, so I went over to Christy in the morg.
“Hey, mind if I check out the body?”
I asked as I entered the cold dark room only the desk light on. No answer… She must be reading, so I went over to her desk to talk to her. Oh my, she took a nap!
“CHRISTY!!!” I yelled as I shook her, “Wake up sleepyhead!”
“Oh my gosh…” she mumbled and the spoke in what we all know as jibberish or “sleepy talk”.
“Why are you working over time? Go home, and if there is anyone wheeled in here, we’ve got someone who can take care of it!” once again I yelled this at her. She really needed sleep, shes been working way to much overtime. So there I was investigating the body, and I realized what the murder weapon was, a vase.
I looked closer at the vase peices lodged throughout his body. Then I remembered thinking that there had been something missing on a shelf, though it was questionable in that kind of apartment.
Now that I knew what had happened, well mostly, I needed to figure out who did it. I decided to run the finger prints through a different system, and hope for a result. Since the database I was trying to run it through was large, I decided to go get some lunch.
Going my usuall route, to my usual fast food restarant, on the way out of the lab, I saw a dead parot, just lying there, almost just like the victum. The parot had a collar with a tag on it that had the owners name, address, and phone number. Hmm, could it be the murderers parot?
As an instinct, I called the number, begging to get a responce.
He answered.
“Hello, this is Julliet from NYC PD Crime Lab, we would like to talk to you.” I acted polite like I always do when I am on the phone with someone work related.
“Oh craa–” this mysterious voice yelled, which then followed by a nice dial tone.
Well, great he hung up, whatever, because now I can have the sherrif track the number and catch him.
Not even minutes later, the sherrif walked in with the man on the phone, then he was printed.
“Thanks officer,” as I spoke he nodded, “I’ll run the prints, see ya in a few.”
I left, and returned about ten minutes later, with a nice grin on my face. Then whispered to the sherrif, “Give me a few minutes to talk to him, then take him away.”
I asked the usual crime lab questions. The one I wanted the best answer for I asked last.
That was, “Why did you do it?” Minutes passed after he explained that it was extreem build up of anger from childhood, much of it related to the victum. The man new he had done something extreemly wrong, overreacted, and couldn’t forgive himself, but was willing to pay the consiquenses that he had comming for him. I asked no more questions about specifics, knowing that the case had been solved anyway, and that some things should just be kept private.

The Midnight Tale That Saved My Dreams

“One and two and three and four and…. AUUUGH!” I yelped. I absolutely ADORE playing piano, but half the time I stink at it! Wait… who are you? Ahh… lovely name! I am the one and only Lilian Walker, seventh grader and aspiring artist. My art isn’t the regular kind though- I sing, dance, act, and play the piccolo and piano. I know all of this sounds great, but it made me a total OUTCAST! And… it saved my life. Anyway, back to my story!

“Lili! Time for breakfast! Get off of the piano, already,” said my mom in a rather worried sort of way. She was the lady into gardening and raquetball, hating anything artsy. “Fine, Mom … too bad I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING A SONG!” I dislike it STRONGLY when that woman deprives me of time to do my work. Flump, flump, flump. “Oatmeal,” Said I, mumbling. “Eh, Ma! I’m out to uhh… go and do my thing! Ya know… hit some bauulls… go peeple wutchin… that sorta ting! Okeydokey?” My older brother, Paul, is SUPER WEIRD! He always is sucking up to ‘Ma’, trying out fake accents (I do that too, but mom HATES it when I do it!), and simply being an oddball. “This oatmeal… Mum,” Paul muttered. ” Must be THE finest eva made!” I despise the English one… Mum always giggles and hugs him. WHOO WHHOOOO WHOOOSH! Suddenly, everone in the kitchen flung themselves to the window. All I saw was black, smoggy-looking clouds in the shape of a funnel- tornado. Nobody waited at all; every single body was in the cellar…

TO BE CONTINUED! (GOTTA FINISH LE HOMEWORK! SUUUUSPPPPEEEENNNCE!)

Ever since I was young, I can remember always trying on my mother’s makeup, high heels, and dresses. Now, if you were an adorable little girl, this may seem cute. If you’re a boy, this may be frowned upon. At school, I was always teased without mercy. I must say, I was not normal. My normal school outfit was my older sister’s ballet slippers, a very long t-shirt, and occaisionally a tiara. I was always sent to the office to change into some pants. You see, I didn’t wear pants to school because I used the t-shirt as a dress. While the other little boys were talking about monster trucks and racecars, my mind was on pink ponies and rainbows. In second grade, we had to do a report on what we want to be when we grow up. Jack, the most popular boy in the entire class wanted to be a racecar driver. Nathan, the class nerd, wanted to be a computer programmer. My future girlfriend, Maria, wanted to be a hair stylist. Her best friend, jessica, wanted to be maria’s assistant. when it was my turn, i stood in front of the class and said, “When I grow up, I want to be a princess.” The class erupted into uncontrollable laughter. I just stood there looking out into the sea of laughing classmates and stared as if to say, “Why is that so funny? What’s wrong with being a princess?” The teacher finally calmed them down, and she suggested I go to the office to call my mother so she can bring me my pants.
Now i am 30 years old, and i have a great job. i am a hairstylist. I’ve tried to forget my rough elementary years, but it is hard because I work for Maria. Maria grew up to own a very successful hair salon. She is constantly a reminder of the little boy who wanted to be a princess. Not everyone got their dream job. Jessica doesn’t work for Maria, she actually works at the McDonald’s across the street from maria’s salon. jessica spent so much time trying to be exactly like maria, that she forgot about education and eventually dropped out of high school. that is why being a personality sponge is bad. Anyway, I am now shampooing Mrs. Johnson’s hair. She is a frequent customer here, and she comes with all her elderly friends from the sewing circle. they constantly gossip about the newest yarn and knitting needles. it can sometimes be annoying, especially when they ask me questions like, “Do you think my son from New York would prefer a pot holder, or a tote bag?” I find it incredibly hard not to laugh when I am asked this. Mrs. Johnson once asked me if I was okay, then she began hitting me with her purse to”knock some sense back into me.” I was tempted to ask her to leave, but then I saw maria looking at me wiht a look that meant, ” If you ask her to leave. you will go with her.” So I kept my opinion to myself. I am the kind of person who tells it like it is. This is sometimes why I don’t have a girlfriend after the first date. A helpful tip is if your girlfriend asks you f something makes her butt look big, you absolutely do not tell her that yes, it does. Even if she looks like a whale.
To be continued…………