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Murder on the express line

Murder on the express line

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Published by Rose
Its the start of a novel i want to write, but i'm unsure how to continue, any ideas would be most helpful :) Its about a man who's a bit of a get around and two woman who get murdered on a train and well somehow it must continue from there :)
Its the start of a novel i want to write, but i'm unsure how to continue, any ideas would be most helpful :) Its about a man who's a bit of a get around and two woman who get murdered on a train and well somehow it must continue from there :)

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Published by: Rose on Apr 15, 2009
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06/14/2009

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Her eyes by Rose Summer K innearChapter 1 – death approaches those that ask 
 The train rumbled along at 60mph. No one spoke. In the middle of themiddle carriage lay a ghostly white body covered in a blood coloredblanket. She was middle aged with fair brown hair and lifeless eyes. Shestared up at the pattern less ceiling. No one had seen what had happened.One moment alive and then next…death had taken her. Her name was inall the tabloids. Mademoiselle Georgia Cratia. Six people were in theroom at the time of the murderous scream and deathly wail. These samesix stood motionless around the body. Their eyes flickered and danced inthe candle light. One of these people must have been the murderer. Not aperson alerted the people running the train. Though most wanted to theywere far too afraid, after all the murderer was still on the train. No onedared check how she had perished. No one dared move, nor speak.Silence haunted the carriage until a brave young man stood up to it andspoke.“Is she dead?” he whispered. He was about 21 and already was extremelywealthy. His father had been a multi-millionaire however about two weeksago his father had passed away and the business and family fortune hadbeen passed to him. Already making the most of this massive fortune hehad boarded the train in order to ‘attend’ a business meeting although itwas unlikely he’d turn up. He was well known for his lazy attitude. Hisname was Charles dreamer and his father had been in the stationarybusiness like he would be now. As he spoke the ghastly words everyperson in the room turned their heads in a robot like fashion and glaredhim down as if he was anant and they owned a magnifying glass. As theyoungest in the room it was expected that he would not have guessed thetruth. It was a murder and no doubt about that. The next to speak was theeldest on the train. He was called sahib nana and was also very wealthy.He had been a painter who had created many famous pieces in hislifetime however at the grand old age of 75 he was heading themillionaire’s retirement community.“She seems to be motionless so I would declare her to be dead, yes” hishoarse voice ran a shudder up the very spines of the others. The wordsspoke of the truth and a horrid one at that. The words clung to the air foranother minute as if to raise suspense that extra minute longer. The ticktock of brains working hard seemed the only sound until that too dieddown. Silence had returned and was most certainly not welcome. Eachperson was scared. In their eyes they played the countless number of ways she could have died. Some ears tried to hide the sound of thescream that was heard through the entire train before the clatter of abody to the floor. Sooner or later someone was going to have to speak andsomebody chose sooner.“I’m, err, off to bed” said an untamed beast in an American accent. Hername was Sylvia Taranto and was famous all around the globe for herapparent excellent acting skills. Her voice, it is said, can be heard frommany miles away. Whether this was a good thing or not was never said.
 
She was however an exceptional beauty. Her emerald eyes seemedmysterious and wild. Her pale white skin was as white as a dove’s feather.Her ruby red lips caress your skin as she kisses your neck. It is also beenheard around that when she walks down the street all the lights flicker onand off. Truly magical. Unfortunately for Sylvia no such sightings havebeen recorded yet. As her slinky like body turned her wrist was caught bya man named Jack smack (his name was a joke shared among plenty) whowas very young (he had only turned 20 three weeks ago) but veryhandsome. The Sylvia of the men some would say. Hazel eyes stareddown at you with a soft expression as your heart starts to melt like butterin a pan. His sleek, brown hair tussled and turned in the wind. He was inperfect shape although he rarely went to the gym. Some would say hegets his workout in the bed department, as he played the characterCasanova, sleeping with up to 10 people at any one time. Too any man hewas known as there god, there hero, there model. Right now he glareddown at her. It showed in his eyes what he thought but to make it clearerhe spoke out loud.“Wow Sylvia I knew you were jealous of her but killing her now that wasout of line” A challenge had been made at hand, a challenge excepted.“My dear sir I am tired and if no one dare speak nor move then I shallleave!” Sylvia replied with just a little bit more than a hint of sarcasm inher voice. They stood close together and their eyes flickered at each othermeeting for a short moment before turning away. Sylvia licked her lips andthen shone him the brightest smile jack had ever seen before attemptinga second time to leave. Jack had watched this motion and decided to replywith a simple sentence.“I am also tired” the gorgeous gentlemen said with hesitation. He turnedsharply and made for the door into the next carriage. He had obviouslyfollowed Sylvia to her room as everyone knew his room was the other wayyet no person made a sound. A lady in her twenties stood up her cameraswinging around her neck. As sharply and as quickly as jack had down shetoo left the room. Not long after the sound of sobbing could be heard. Andfor the third time that evening silence haunted the middle room of themiddle carriage.
Chapter 2 – striking again under a fake moon
“Oh jack” Sylvia fluttered her eyelashes at him. She wore a skimpy nightgown in a sparkling violet color. It swayed side to side as jack unzippedthe back. The sound of unzipping was like music to jacks ears. Jack wasabout to embark on a dangerous mission. However the reward at the endwould be truly satisfying. He kissed her neck as he pulled down her gown.She in return un- buttoned his shirt. Meanwhile the carriage next doorlistened to the un-pleasant sounds of sobbing and love making. Everyoneleft in the middle room felt uneasy and unsure how to take the situation.As the night curled over most left and went to their own rooms. After awhile the whole train was quiet apart from the loud snoring and constanttussles and turns from people moving as they slept. One person howeverremained awake, staring up at the ceiling from the comfort of their bed.
 
Oddly thinking was the entire stranger did wishful thinking. The trainrattled on through the night and did not stop. The air was clean and crispoutside. Sylvia would know. She stood at the back of the train breathing inthe night air. Her strawberry lips closed around the end of her cigaretteholder as she breathed in what she loved best. Tar. As she breathed outher body relaxed. Trees standing like soldiers whizzed past. Wispy cloudshung still in the night sky. The stars shone brightly like jewels in a flowingpiece of cloth. The moon so silver it seemed fake. However Sylvia barelynoticed these things. She was spending far too much time worrying. Sheknew if she worried too much she would get worry lines but yet she stillshivered and frowned. She thought about someone dying on this verytrain and for once in her life she was scared. Terror gripped her for shortmoments causing her to grip onto the safety railing to tight consequentlyturning her knuckles white. She couldn’t stay on the train, she was sure tobe murdered. Blowing out the rest of her cigarette smoke Sylvia turnedround. In a sharp instant Sylvia’s ears picked up the sound of movement.Her eyes searched but she saw nothing. A lump in her throat haddeveloped. She felt uncomfortable. She listened more intently but againheard nor saw anything. She turned her back to the door and stared outinto the open once more. She was unaware of the creeping up of anotherperson right behind her. Her mind was racing as she counted up thepossibilities of escaping. There were none. It’s said that right before youdie you recall past moments in your life. For Sylvia this was jack touchingher only hours before, or her mother having her at 16, or her fatherencouraging her to take to the stage. These were the last thoughts of Sylvia Taranto. A tiny, miniscule zipping sound sped through the air andmade abeeline towards Sylvia. It was as if something was piercingthrough the air. No one would have heard it and Sylvia certainly didn’t.She hit the ground just like a ton of bricks. The Murdering eyes glistened. The next part was harder: getting rid of the body. The killer moved swiftlytowards her like a lion towards it’s pray and with a swoop like an eagle thekiller was bent down near her neck, checking her pulse to see if she wasstill alive. She was not. Unsteadily the lips of this monstrous personcaressed her neck as if to bite it. With one almighty heave the killer swungher matchstick body up into the arms of the murderer. ‘Bye bye Sylvia’ thekiller thought ‘bye bye’ and with that the body was tossed over the side of the train. The killer watched as her body disappeared into the night alongwith the trees, stars and moon. Then all was quiet. The killer grinned. Thesheer pleasure of ridding her and the sense of accomplishmentoverwhelmed the cold black heart. The grin was wider than a goldeneagle’s wing and it stayed there for several seconds before theseriousness returned and the killer floated back down to reality. ‘Time tomove, the killer thought, needing to get back a little place called base andas swiftly as the murderer had come he galloped back into the shadowslike a gazelle. Then there was nothing.
Chapter 3 – somebody’s eyes are watching

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