–I was locked up in solitude, awaiting my trial, but I won't stand still and watch the truth slip through my fingers.–
–This became my obsession.–
–I figured out how to crack open the handcuffs binding me and escaped from the police station at night. I knew the place like the back of my hand. I worked there.–
–I easily escaped and arrived at the Beyfong mansion in the dead of night, wielding a pistol I took after knocking a police officer unconscious.
It took me a while, but I navigated past the tight security, dressed as one of the butlers I knocked out.–
–The place was massive—with corridors spanning the length of my apartment put side by side.–
–I inquired about the whereabouts of Miss Beyfong and found out she was in the family library. A place where nobody disturbs her.
I barged in the family library only to see Miss Beyfong staring at a massive chapel window that depicted a man hung on a cross.–
_She wore pure red. Everything from her hair to her heels was scarlet. Potent pheromones radiated from her, unreal and otherworldly—Wait!? Why am I rambling about that bit*h's appearance... on with the story.–
–"I've been waiting for you, Zachariah."–
–My gun was already aimed at her skull with laser focus.–
–At that moment, her husband came in. Beyfong screamed at me from the top of his lungs, but at that point I couldn't give a flying fuck.–
–I put a bullet in the old man's leg to calm him down.–
–Amidst her husband's screams of pain, I asked Miss Beyfong how she knew me.–
–She started rambling on about how she really thought I was smart enough to leave the investigation to the police.–
–I knew they were working for her but just couldn't prove it. Was the judge also under her control? I wasn't sure, but I wanted answers.–
–What power was she wielding, and just how many people were like her?, The bitch didn't answer my question, so I prepped my gun.–
–She told me that Philip had already explained it to me—this {Origin Law} stuff.–
–Another time this freaking {Origin Law} was mentioned. What is it, and what does it have to do with me?–
–She told me {Origin Law} is the language of the universe.–
–Then I asked her why she killed Tom's girlfriend. She told me Tom's girlfriend was a bitch and she was annoying. Kind of ironic really.–
–At this point, the police had begun to swarm the area, and Miss Beyfong and I were in a standoff.–
–The second I sensed hostility, I pulled the fucking trigger.–
–The bullet sent Mrs Beyfong's body crashing through the window, bullet lodged in her forehead, but at that second I saw it.–
–That bitch fucking grinned as she plummeted down the building.–
–She threw a talisman-looking parchment from her gown that oozed with a bloody mist._
[ ¢£¢€Ππ§¶∆♪~ ]
–I saw a bunch of words in front of me. I couldn't read it, but I knew what was about to happen would kill me.–
–The talisman exploded in a blood sea, flooding the entire second floor of the mansion. Liquid covered me, at that moment, my jaw came loose, and my eyeballs fell out of their sockets.–
–This talisman was some sort of bomb holding large amounts of corrosive blood that exploded outward violently.–
–I died right there and then.–
–You may ask, then how are you writing this if you're dead?–
–Well, I don't know either, but I saw a bunch of floating words after my death.–
[£¢€¥¶§∆√ΠΩμ]
[. £¢€Π¶∆÷≥π√•♪♪.]
–Then I magically appeared in my apartment, the radio playing.–
–It took me a couple of minutes to understand what was going on. I thought I was in hell.–
–I was snapped back to reality as the news radio channel echoed with the local news of the Beyfongs.–
–A gas leak in the house had destroyed the building. Mr. Beyfong was caught up in it and died. His wife's body was nowhere to be found.–
–It was suspected that it was triggered by convicted criminal Zachariah Keal, who also died in the fire blast.–
–Did she survive my gunshot? I wasn't sure. And I died? But I'm right here.–
–I don't understand it.–
–At this point, even the media was trying to cover it up. The Beyfong mansion was reduced to rubble, and today the funeral for Mr. and Mrs. Beyfong would be held.–
–That's all I know. I'll keep updating regularly about my journey from now on.–
–July 25th, 1882–
–[Journal entry close]–
[I'll still keep talking in First person past tense because that's my writing style]
I Leaned back in my chair, stroking back my dreads.
My eyes lazily glanced at the stopwatch by my journal.
"Time to pay the Beyfongs a visit."–
I wore a three piece suit and left my building with the jacket around my forearm. My bowtie kept giving me a hard time but I had to look my best, it would be rude attending the funeral of those you "allegedly" murdered looking like a twat.
And also I had to cover my face, people think I'm dead now, so the police are relaxed about finding me, better not taunt them.
The cemetery was quiet as Mr. and Mrs. Beyfong's coffins were lowered into the ground, relatives sobbed, the priests shouted praises.
But I knew for a damn fact that bitch wasn't dead. That's why I came here to double check.
I approached the young girl crying in front of the casket.
"Are you Martha Beyfong?"
She quickly wiped her tears and spoke with a hoarse voice.
"Y-yes, I am."
Bitch was heartless enough to drag her husband and a majestic creature like me to the grave, but I guess even evil witches have soft spots when it comes to their children.
My thoughts almost trailed of.
Martha looked at me. She was a young girl, probably 18–20 years of age. Her short red hair was done in a pixie cut, which highlighted her soft facial features and her swollen red eyes and smeared makeup almost made me feel bad—almost.
"I'm sorry, who ARE you?"
My face was obscured by a black mask which was normal. At funerals, relatives and friends of the deceased would actually were masks as they were being buried due to an old folktail. A spirit that was about to rest could be attached to you by how beautiful you were.
I wasn't confident about my looks, but all those compliments from boss when I was working overtime (without getting paid) built my confidence.
Back to the question. Who was I?.
I am Zachariah keal, a 21 year old police investigator, other have elaborate dreams, breezing the seas, inventing new gadgets, mine's getting a raise. Both dreams , but one is on a whole other difficulty than the other. (And I mean mine by the way).
But Zach died. I am just another person now.
" uh um... I am an acquaintance of your father. In fact, he and I were very close. You can call me..."
I paused for a bit.
"Mr. Fog..."
I chose that name because I would be the one to unravel the fog of secrets surrounding the mysteries of what I discovered.
How did Mrs. Beyfong get her powers? What are Mystic Arts? And what were the floating words that I see constantly in my line of sight.
*Yeah... Off course I was close to her father* I reassured myself.
Now I feel bad for shooting the poor old man in the leg, but in my defense, I wasn't thinking straight.
"I am the private detective assigned to this case. I will see to it that the truth behind the deaths of your parents is uncovered."
I bowed.
Everybody around gave their condolences to the children of the deceased, and I walked away feeling empty.
I never particularly had a family, so I couldn't relate to losing a family member. The closest family member I had was my bestie from the orphanage.
We grew very close over the years, and I considered her family, yes it's a her.
She was later adopted by a rich family to study abroad. And that was the last time I saw her.
That was more than ten years ago, and I was later sponsored by a charity organization to study linguistics.
Our paths might never cross again, but I hold her dear in my heart.
But enough about my childhood crush, I arrived at The designated spot, beyfongs mansion—well, what's left of it.
Caution tape was sprawled across the demolished Beyfong property. Rubble and steel bars jutted out of the soil.
I stared at the destruction.
If I wanted to find clues, I would have to do it at the site of the incident. At frist I doubted I would find anything. The police would have cleared it out a long time ago, but it was worth a shot.
"Here goes nothing."
At the dead of night I approached the rubble.