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Monday, February 11, 2019

Blood Stained Water :: Papers

Blood Stained Water A tart s optioned issued from her m issueh, it filled the room, and then stopped as suddenly as it began, divergence echoes lingering in the air. The body of a man lay on the al-Qaeda, dressed in a charcoal black suit, and faded rough the cuffs and the collar. His ageing wrinkled hands clutched onto his chest, soaked in the warm, wet blood, which varnished his shirt. A faint drip could still be heard in the eerily silent study. His face was so vivid with fear. It could be seen in his usually warm, brown eyes. His oval spectacles were shattered on the floor beside him. The moonlight peered through a gap in the thick, woven cream curtains it was reflected off the shards of lens over the walls and ceiling like a 70s disco ball, though the atmosphere was much different. A rug of screwed paper be the floor next to the empty filing cabinets, hours of notes on hundreds of patients now showered crossways the floor. The rest of the st udy looked as normal, the room dark, save for the small lamp which illuminate the heavily varnished mahogany bureau, shining on the doctors most young work, the ink still wet. Blackness lurked in every corner, hopefully it was unaccompanied the blackness that lurked there, nothing else was hiding in the shadows, and whatever had been there had commodious gone. It was an unnerving place to be. Name? asked the balding police detective. Miss burbot Chandler replied the young woman. Victims name? he questioned with the same unemotional voice. Please do we have to do this now? He only died last night. Sniff, the emotions of the daughter struggled o stay inside. I understand Miss, but its easier to get it out of the way. Try and answer what you can and stop when youve had enough. Despite his words being sympathetic his voice didnt change, it seemed routine, as if he was reciting from a textbook or something. Sniff ok, his name was Doctor Steven Chandl er sniff, her sniffs

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