User blog:IzzyWrites11/Crooked House Fan Fic: Ayame

Yes. It was that family. You know them, don’t you? The Dedlees-Leethels? The house down Elmurda Road? The mansion? No? Well, then they might do something behind your back! Be cautious, for their idiosyncrasies disguise their...you’d really thought I’d tell you, didn’t you? Well, read on then. I’m their neighbour, by the way. Well, I live an hour away and come to their bush at the front gates everyday but we’re close, well, they are oblivious to my existence and it isn’t mutual, but I’ve befriended Ayame Leethel, the youngest daughter, she once darted her eyes towards my bony, bonny face and smiled. I never saw her again. Usually, at night, her lights were turned on and the curtains closed at 1am, she read all night. Fairytales and fairytales. She had once tried Little Women, but as sublime as it is, it was much to her distaste. She profoundly believed that classics were dull. How do I know this, you ask? Well, it doesn’t matter, because I do.

No more. I never. Never. Ever. E.V.E.R. Nope. Nada. Bupkis. I didn’t see her anymore, Ayame. No more lights. No lately closed curtains. Nothing.

She wasn’t there. Her gargantuan bedroom, empty. All I could see was drops of red on the floor. I thought, ‘It’s merely a mirage. Don’t get worked up. No mysteries. No Poirot. Not for you. Not today.’, but my conscience was a liar. Maybe there was a mystery. Maybe it was all for me! But maybe not. We were bound to find out.

There WAS a mystery, I am sure of it! I just needed to find out more... I came back the next night. But I couldn’t stay long. As in Barallera, they deliver the paper at around 7pm and if you are not there the youngster paperkids come into your house (with special keys) and they steal things. It was 5.47pm. I still had time. I heard a scream, it sounded closer to a frightened cat’s meow, if I may be so candid.

I was relishing in the crisp Barallera weather. The soft winds howling beside my ear. Telling me to go home. I set up a camera, so that when I would have departed, the adventures and clues would not escape me. I saw a bluebird. Perched atop a branch. Then I heard a rapid gunshot. And the bird fell to the ground. There was another shot. My way. I sank to the floor. Bleeding. Eyes wide open. I saw a figure. Holding a gun. A small figure. Around 4 feet. Maximum. No one in the family was this short. It could only be one person.

‘AYAMEEEEEEE!’, I howled.

‘Yes.’ She uttered

...