Gaberax
08-11-2008, 01:07 PM
The police officer opens the door to the apartment for you. Yawning, you step inside.
“This way,” the officer indicates with his extended arm.
You walk down the short hallway and into the modest living room of the apartment. Detective Mike Hawkshaw stands by a lazy-boy recliner chair, a cup of coffee in hand and a sour expression on his tired face. Sprawled in the chair is an unknown man, mouth slack and open, dead eyes fixed on nothingness, a horrendous gash in the back of his skull. Blood covers the back of the man’s head, his shoulders and the top of the chair. A muted television sits in front of the chair and on it a frenzied infomercial silently hawks its wares.
“Thought you might be able to help us,” Hawkshaw unceremoniously starts the conversation.
“How so?” You respond, eyeing up the dead man.
“Heard you have a gift,” Hawkshaw shoots an uncomfortable look to the escort officer.
“A gift that works better on eight hours of sleep,” you yawn again.
Hawkshaw smiles thinly and nods to the escort officer who turns to a nearby table and produces a rather large object in a plastic bag.
“ Murder weapon. ( http://i20.photobucket.com/albums/b230/Gaberax/MurderWeaponX.gif) ” Hawkshaw confirms with a nod.
You take the bag. It’s heavier than you would have guessed. You stare at the blood covered item.
You start by silencing your thoughts, controlling your breathing and letting your muscles relax. You let your mind drift. You close your eyes and relax.
Suddenly, your minds eye is filled with images.
“Well, can you tell me who the murderer is?” Hawkshaw interrupts your extended silent meditation.
“No,” you respond, “but I can tell you what he was watching on TV when he died.”
What was the man watching when he died?
“This way,” the officer indicates with his extended arm.
You walk down the short hallway and into the modest living room of the apartment. Detective Mike Hawkshaw stands by a lazy-boy recliner chair, a cup of coffee in hand and a sour expression on his tired face. Sprawled in the chair is an unknown man, mouth slack and open, dead eyes fixed on nothingness, a horrendous gash in the back of his skull. Blood covers the back of the man’s head, his shoulders and the top of the chair. A muted television sits in front of the chair and on it a frenzied infomercial silently hawks its wares.
“Thought you might be able to help us,” Hawkshaw unceremoniously starts the conversation.
“How so?” You respond, eyeing up the dead man.
“Heard you have a gift,” Hawkshaw shoots an uncomfortable look to the escort officer.
“A gift that works better on eight hours of sleep,” you yawn again.
Hawkshaw smiles thinly and nods to the escort officer who turns to a nearby table and produces a rather large object in a plastic bag.
“ Murder weapon. ( http://i20.photobucket.com/albums/b230/Gaberax/MurderWeaponX.gif) ” Hawkshaw confirms with a nod.
You take the bag. It’s heavier than you would have guessed. You stare at the blood covered item.
You start by silencing your thoughts, controlling your breathing and letting your muscles relax. You let your mind drift. You close your eyes and relax.
Suddenly, your minds eye is filled with images.
“Well, can you tell me who the murderer is?” Hawkshaw interrupts your extended silent meditation.
“No,” you respond, “but I can tell you what he was watching on TV when he died.”
What was the man watching when he died?