Youngsters’ Forum

Call Out

December 11th, 2007

As I walked through the town my phone started to ring, I answered it and it was my boss telling me to go to a house on the east side to find out if these people had something to do with the Black Market . I didn’t know why he chose me but I went anyway.

It was a small house in need of repair. The white paint on the walls was peeling and a rusty gate had broken off its hinges and lay across the path leading to the door. There was no number on the door. I rearched for the handle, tried to open it and discovered it was unlocked. Although I didn’t have a warrant, I risked it and went inside.

I wassurprised there was no one in, so I headed for the front room. I could see they didn’t really care about the house because wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the carpets were damp and dirty, and the room smelt musty and of stale ash. I could see hundreds of cigarette ends and empty whisky bottles scattered about the floor. On an old and worn coffee table there was a framed photograph of a man and a woman, with wine glasses in their hands, looking drunk, and both had dark rings under their eyes.

Also on the table there were ten piles of cash in fifty pound notes

There was an answer machine on a stand in the corner of the room. I clicked it on and listened to the message. “Have you got the goods yet? if you do meet me at the docks at two.”

I looked at my watch and could see that it was three o’clock. Suddenly the door opened and I knew I was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Elliot     

Entry Filed under: Schools, Search Inside, Sunnybank, Writer in Residence