First Written Murder Scene

Cyrus began walking back up the same road he took to get to the theatre. The back way, that him and Evangeline had taken so many times before. The old oaks and elms had bare branches at this time of year, and the rusty orange and brown leaves on the ground left a dry moldy smell. The sunlight barely reaching over the hilltops as it was setting, leaving golden, red, orange, and pink arches across the sky. Cyrus with adrenaline pumping through his old, beaten heart, was practically running through the old path to get to his home.

He began nearing the top, when he heard shouting near the Theatre, he began to panic. “Surely, they wouldn’t know I came all the way through here... would they?”  he said to himself. He continued running towards the top and when he finally made it, he stopped. His house was just one mile down the road to the left. But that’s not what stopped him. It’s what he had to pass by that stopped him. Good ol’ Joseph, the man who was madly in love with his wife, Evangeline. The man who, even to this day, tried to ruin Cyrus and his life all in the name of love. The very man whom of which he had quarreled with all of his life. “I think I should pay my good ol’ pal a visit.”

Cyrus walked towards Joseph’s house and noticed how eerily quiet it was now. The yelling had stopped, and the wind was beginning to give a slight and cold breeze, giving Cyrus a small chill. He looked out past the massive cliff line that Joseph and his house both sat on. His ancient eyes searching the open seas. When nothing caught his eye, he continued walking again.

He finally reached Joseph’s house and came up to the door. The thought of whether or not he should knock came into question. When he decided to, Joseph opened the door to see Cyrus standing there.

“Oddly enough,” Joseph began, “I had a hunch you’d come to see me. What is it you want?”

Cyrus looked him up and down before he spoke. His voice raspy and worn, “I came to pay you back, for everything.”

Joseph looked on confused, “What do you-”

Cyrus then flicked his wrist at Joseph, forcing him to be thrown back into the hallway. He sat up with his hand on his head as it throbbed in pain. Cyrus then stepped in the doorway and closed it. He looked on at Joseph, his face stone hard and his eyes as cold and grey as a winter’s night.

“So, Cyrus, tell me what it’s like to kill people,” Joseph mocked him, “what’s it like, to know that all those people you killed down there tonight won’t be able to go home to their families or friends anymore. What’s it like huh?”

Cyrus continued to stare at him, appalled at what was just said. He took a step towards Joseph, who then crawled back words a ways.

“That’s right,” Joseph began again, “I know all about it. Two policemen came here informing me there’s been an incident, so I wasn’t aloud to leave my house. I asked into it and they told me the theatre was burnt down and flooded. I knew it was you. I knew you used dark magic!” Joseph practically spit out those words at Cyrus, “So, I ask again, what is it like?”

Cyrus took a deep breath. Stared right into Joseph’s eyes and cleared his throat, “So, you wanna know what it’s like? I’ll tell you then.” Cyrus gave an evil smile and quicker than one could blink, he was kneeling down face to face with Joseph. His grey eyes looking directly into Joseph’s blue ones. Freezing them in one spot, like freezing water into ice, “It’s the most horrible thing in the world,” Cyrus whispered.

Joseph scooted back. His face was replaced by the face of a scared child. It reminded Cyrus of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on who.
“Please, have mercy on me!” Joseph begged, “I’ll do anything! Anything, I tell you! I swear on my life!”

“And I believe you,” Cyrus smiled. He raised his arm towards Joseph and flicked his hand so only his pointer and middle finger stuck out. While doing so, a white flash of light burst out of his fingertips in a lightning bolt fashion and struck Joseph right in the chest. He now laid on the floor, dead.