Letters - Chapter 2 Wednesday feels more promising as I wake and practically run to the door to find no letters. I get dressed and ready for work with a spring in my step. I think it helps that it's a sunny morning of a new day when everything seems less scary and suspicious. However, I'm not blind to what happened last night and take extra care to lock all the windows and front door. On the way to my office where I work for a beauty company and conduct market research, I pop into 'Joe's Coffee' and order my usual- a cappuccino to take away. While I waiting for my drink, I take up conversation with Joe who knows me well. He's easy to talk to and get along with and since I always leave quite early for work, I often stop for a chat. I try to say it lightly as a joke as I begin, "Hey Joe, you won't believe this but last night, I received an anonymous letter saying I'M WATCHING YOU. At first I thought it was a-" "I'm not sure you should be this light and cheery about this, Hel. It's not your everyday post, is it?" His response to what I said stops me in my tracks. He's right. I probably shouldn't be light and jokey about this until I am ultimately certain it was a joke. Which I'm not. We resume talking but about otter things. Normal things. Not suspicious letters arriving for you. I can't concentrate as I send emails to hundreds of clients asking about their cosmetic brand favourites. I think I'll feel better when I get home and see that nothing's arrived. But what if it has? Oh god, I think. If I get home in a few hours and there IS something there, I'm going to freak out more and be afraid of my own home. I'm shivering and realise my hand's shaking and so caught up in my own thoughts that I don't realise that she's standing there until I get up to get some fresh air and see her. It startles me and I regain my breath slowly. "Gosh Helen, you look awful. No offence but you look like you've seen a ghost!" Trust Lindsay to be blunt but as I walk outside and catch sight of myself in a mirror, I realise she's right. We chat outside but I just shrug off my shakes and say I'm not feeling great. This still might be nothing and I've already told Joe, no need to worry Lindsay too. She makes me feel better by gossiping and chatting aimlessly and I feel OK as I finish my day off. Although I'm not stupidly happy like this morning, I'm alright. Until I get to my front door. I take a breath. This is make or break. I'm praying to God there's nothing there as I cautiously push open the door- Oh Thank God! There's nothing there! I smile stupidly and chuck my shoes off before I nearly skip off to my bedroom and slip into some pyjamas and slippers. A hot chocolate would be nice, I think. I pad over to the kitchen, humming a cheery tune... And actually scream when I see it. My hands come to my face and I sob silently. I sink to the floor for a few minutes before I manage to crawl over and pick up the tatty brown envelope, lying there on my kitchen table, once again with 'Helen' on the front. My fingers fumble and rip the envelope open as the scrap of paper falls out and lands face up. My tears drip on to the tiles as I flip it over and see -in the same handwriting- 'WATCH OUT'. I stop breathing for a second before a fresh lot of tears fall and I quietly moan. I've just realised how much deeper this goes, what this means. The writer hasn't only hand delivered this but been in my apartment and put this here. Stood on my floor, touched my things and the thought repulses me. And, oh god, they can get in too- with ease.

Sarah Hall- Chapter 4 As Detective Wood awoke the next morning, his mental to do list bustled around in his head. As he was boiling the kettle for a cup of strong coffee, he pressed the button on his answering machine next to the flashing display (1). He listened intently as the clear concise voice rang out 'First new message. Received at 5:38am on Monday.' Following this was the deep, strong voice of one of his team, Tom Lakesley. 'Good morning, detective. I've been in the office early this morning. Found some interesting stuff. Not sure this was a wrong place, wrong time murder. We got the girl's identity and some suspect names. But something doesn't add up, mate. See me in my office when you get it' . Wood was intrigued by Tom's tone, he sounded nervous, even scared of being over-heard. 20 minutes later, Wood was striding to the door labelled Lakesley, curious to see the 'interesting stuff' Tom had described. He hadn't lifted his hand to knock before the door was pulled open from the other side. Wood wasn't greeted just ushered inside by Tom and lead to a chair. 'This has escalated onto a whole new level, Wood. This isn't a girl from her mates party in a random killer's territory, she knew what she was doing and what trouble she was in and had been in for years. She was part of a high profile drug corporation. A secret identity company, constantly moving bases to avoid detection. Their most recent was on a backstreet in Chicago'. Wood listened intently and occasionally nodded to show his understanding. Tom took a deep breath before continuing. 'We have strong evidence to believe that she was out that night at a high profile exclusive party, trying to sell drugs to the host. It seemed that everything was going smoothly and she was about to propose the offer to the host before she spotted a lone man loitering in the corner. Being casual, we believe she approached this man, whom identity we have yet to discover and she found out he was a loan shark. He was there to offer quick cash to any wishing to purchase the girl's drugs. However this worried the girl. The company had got along fine by themselves for years an didn't want loan sharks complicating their smooth running. Worse still, this man posed a bigger threat. If he got any of the girl's customers in debt and physical danger, authorities would find out why they had asked for money in the first place. Their whole company was at risk of going completely bust and getting discovered. So, for the remainder of the night, the girl ditched all of her plans to sell and focused only on persuading the loan shark to leave the party, probably insisting her customers had enough money anyway, when really this man was a good opportunity to get cash for most. The man clocked onto her plan and without this party, his company would go bust for not enough customers. Both were fighting and could not compromise. In the end, a loud argument broke out, supported by nearby residents and the girl left 'in tears'. This loan shark is now our main suspect as he was seen leaving about 3 minutes after the girl and returning to the party about 2 hours later'. Wood leant forwards on the desk and closed his eyes, digesting the information. He finally spoke. 'Tom, you have done amazingly well and after this, I will be slipping hints about your promotion. Can I see the evidence for your findings?'. Tom got up and walked over to a filing cabinet. He reached inside and pulled out some papers. Everything was in here. Neighbours confirmations of the argument, the girl's name - Sarah Hall, the drugs company details and location and more. Detective Wood sat back and digested this for a few moments. He was impressed with Tom and could almost feel the weight of his workload disappearing. However, regardless of the evidence they had, including the identity, no-one had contacted the family yet. Tom had written down the names of the parents with the addresses- he'd done amazingly well. Wood got into car 10 minutes later and paused before setting off. He could call an officer to do this... No. What good detective would you be, running away from the toughest bit of the job? He set off for the address.

Letters- Chapter 1 NB: Trying out a new theme here, let me know what you think of this a basis for a longer story It's a relief to be home, now. Tuesday's are always stressful in the office full of meetings, notes and gossiping colleagues. As I walk into my apartment which sits on the 5th floor of a high-riser modern block in West London, I immediately let my bag fall off my shoulder and feel instant relief as I massage my aching muscles, tender from carrying a heavy load all day and the walk back. I walk over to my neatly organised shoe rack and go to slip out of my heels and flex my toes. As I look down at my feet, I notice the post has arrived- another thing to add to the never-ending agenda of Tuesdays. I flick through the envelopes, most marked with 'BILL' on, some junk mail from desperate companies until I find an unnamed one in a tatty brown enveloped, addressed with handwriting unfamiliar to me. I notice it also just has 'Helen' on the front, not my surname, address or any postal stamp- this letter was hand delivered. I walk into the lounge area, my work bag in tow, sit on the plush arm chair and tuck my legs in plain black tights up beside me. I place the other mail on the arm and inspect the brown envelope before me, mentally listing possible old friends of mine wishing to get in touch again. None nearby spring to mind so I go ahead and open it. The A5 envelope seems wasted as all I find inside, to my disappointment then horror, is a grubby scrap of paper with pencil scribbles on which I decipher to be 'I'M WATCHING YOU.' My insides turn to ice, as I re-read this again and again. That's it, no signature, address- no way of identifying the sender. I sit feebly reassuring myself this is a joke but who would find humour in this? Probably some silly kid in the block, I tell myself. These apartments may be worth over half a million pounds each but it doesn't mean you don't get some rowdy families. Still, the mysterious brown envelope doesn't leave my mind all evening as I lie in a hot, bubbly bath. I can't relax and can't shake off this new feeling of being watched which lingers all night. I climb out of the tub, and hide myself in a fluffy towel. As I climb into bed that night, I can't drift off- what if there's someone at my window, waiting and watching? Or my front door? My apartment was a cosy home, somewhere I felt safe and secure... Until tonight. Oh well, guess I'd just have to see what the morning brings where hopefully there won't be another letter waiting.

Something To Think About... One of my favourite questions to think about when I'm feeling brainy; If A Tree Falls In A Forest, And No-one Is There To Hear It, Does It Still Make A Noise? Any comments on your thoughts? xoxo

Re-post Decided to re-post my first Opuss (posted about 5 months ago) and collect opinions It'a short, apocalyptic piece... Remember those prophecies? The ones which we laughed at? Joked about; 'Bring it on 2012!' ? They weren't all rubbish, except no-one's left to reflect on that, realise the terrible mistake they made by ignoring the Mayan calendars and dark truths hidden within the apocalyptic prophecies... Well, that's just their loss. See, if they'd picked up on the signs... Like, did nobody realise that the climate balance was out of control?! The hottest February in years, the next week, blizarding snow? The 'natural' disasters? The earthquakes, the tornados, wild fires, floods and droughts? They weren't there out of chance, they were all coincidental, planned, calculated and pre-recorded. Not that it matters now, everyone's gone, dead, blown to ash by the immense explosion from the centre of the Earth, subsequently creating a domino effect, destroying Earth, the solar system, the Sun, the galaxy, the Universe. No-one's left now, though. No-one at all to remember and reflect on 21.12.2012. The day the human race and any other species in which evolution worked so hard to create down to the finest detail was wiped out, in the Apocalypse.