Status: Updating soon, Half a chapter written so far. Will update as soon as possible.
A Shadow Of Blood By:M.S.P.
A Shadow of Blood Ch.3 By: M.S.P.
A Shadow of Blood by: M.S.P.
Chapter 3
The following morning I look up in the telephone book for a detective and come across the name of Henry Stewart. “Hello, is detective Stewart in?” I ask. “Yes, this is he.” Stewart said. “I would like to set up an appointment with you.” I said. “Is today at 3 o’clock ok with you?” Stewart asks. “Yes that’s fine by me.” We say our goodbyes and I prepare for my day. I change into my black renaissance dress, wash my face, put on some make-up and put on my Gothic black cross and make myself breakfast. I decide on Flaxseed oatmeal and a Morning Glory muffin that I made 3 days ago. I sit on the couch thinking out what I’m going to say to detective Stewart and listen to a live Coldplay cd. My mobile phone rings in the middle of my thoughts and it’s my sister Isabelle. She’s my half Spanish sister, we have the same mother. “Hello Isabelle. How are you doing?” “I’m currently in Spain studying abroad. I wondered if you’ve been praying lately and reading The Bible.” Isabelle said. “My dear sister, I don’t really have the time to seek God at this time I’m too busy living my life the way I want and loving every minute.” I said. “That’s not very funny, Elizabeth. You actually haven’t lived until you find God and continue to seek him all the waking days you have lived in this dark cruel world.” Isabelle said. “You’re probably right. Well tomorrow I’ll start seeking God again, but I’m not pushing my relationship with God on others as you do.” I said. “I’ll pretend I never heard those wretched evil words that came out of your wine stained lips.” Isabelle said. “Sorry sister, please don’t tell mother how horrible a person I am.” I said. “Actually she already knows because since she’s moved to California you never call her unless you really need her for something. I call our mother Mary every day.” Isabelle said. “Well enough with this. Our conversation is fucking over. Good day!” I screamed as I hung up the phone. I start weeping uncontrollably and I feel like I’m the biggest bitch there ever was. I’m not a very good sister and also a terrible daughter at that. Maybe someday, hopefully very soon, I can start seeking God again, call my dear mother and apologize to my sister. I wipe my tears with my handkerchief and decide what I should do next.
Chapter 3
The following morning I look up in the telephone book for a detective and come across the name of Henry Stewart. “Hello, is detective Stewart in?” I ask. “Yes, this is he.” Stewart said. “I would like to set up an appointment with you.” I said. “Is today at 3 o’clock ok with you?” Stewart asks. “Yes that’s fine by me.” We say our goodbyes and I prepare for my day. I change into my black renaissance dress, wash my face, put on some make-up and put on my Gothic black cross and make myself breakfast. I decide on Flaxseed oatmeal and a Morning Glory muffin that I made 3 days ago. I sit on the couch thinking out what I’m going to say to detective Stewart and listen to a live Coldplay cd. My mobile phone rings in the middle of my thoughts and it’s my sister Isabelle. She’s my half Spanish sister, we have the same mother. “Hello Isabelle. How are you doing?” “I’m currently in Spain studying abroad. I wondered if you’ve been praying lately and reading The Bible.” Isabelle said. “My dear sister, I don’t really have the time to seek God at this time I’m too busy living my life the way I want and loving every minute.” I said. “That’s not very funny, Elizabeth. You actually haven’t lived until you find God and continue to seek him all the waking days you have lived in this dark cruel world.” Isabelle said. “You’re probably right. Well tomorrow I’ll start seeking God again, but I’m not pushing my relationship with God on others as you do.” I said. “I’ll pretend I never heard those wretched evil words that came out of your wine stained lips.” Isabelle said. “Sorry sister, please don’t tell mother how horrible a person I am.” I said. “Actually she already knows because since she’s moved to California you never call her unless you really need her for something. I call our mother Mary every day.” Isabelle said. “Well enough with this. Our conversation is fucking over. Good day!” I screamed as I hung up the phone. I start weeping uncontrollably and I feel like I’m the biggest bitch there ever was. I’m not a very good sister and also a terrible daughter at that. Maybe someday, hopefully very soon, I can start seeking God again, call my dear mother and apologize to my sister. I wipe my tears with my handkerchief and decide what I should do next.