A twist of fate

We open this story upon a man, Laurel. This curious imaginative man is writing a story about a detective. A detective of what he think to himself.

Hmm, what shall I write this detective to do. Let’s see, Ah ha I’ve got it! Set scene in a clean nearly spotless flat somewhere in London. An American who moved in just two weeks ago is sitting alone peering through the window in silence gazing upon the city. Pondering a series of strange cases plaguing it over the last several years. Trying to pieces together why these packages show up out of the blue. Whom wishes to continue this madness, how many more will they add to further the calamity.

London officials are pulling all strings in hopes of stopping this mad man. No common patterns have been recognized. no package alike other then in disruptiveness. In the beginning London would hiring anyone to save a buck. Since worsening however they now looked further, this time hiring a detective from the good ol’ U, S of A. Top notch detective in the states they have been in the paper. looks in odd places and always completes the job like a modern day Sherlock Homes. Surely though not thee Sherlock Homes some what lesser in ways but just as precise. Not all could be so calculated to devise such arduous elaborate plans about the evil in the world. Focus is one important key for detectives, think like the criminal to find to find a criminal. Not to far though, many on this path loose there way. Entangling themselves in the very world they try to dissolve. This would not happen for this detective has resolve and will not falter.

Not to long ago this detective had a close encounter with an exploding box. This box unmarked like the others was to behold the food he had ordered earlier in the hour. Instead this box was a mini close proximity bomb meant to get this detective and prevent solving a case. With luck and a bit of dismay no bodily harm was done, though the home that’s a different story. Upon hearing of London’s issue of the brown boxer that leaded to a flight and a loft here in London for this detective.

Two weeks in this city and no one has seen this detective during daylight. Always leaving a light on through day and night it’s quiet possible there has been no sleep. This night of course in different attire slipping out the window and down into town was this detective just snooping around. Down alleyways and into bars drinking the way to four strip clubs. Surely this scoundrel would visit these places, or so was thought. Three weeks went by like this secretly watching the city.

Than it happen, another package was sent this time it was at a school. To the get the scoop the detective went. Looking for fingers prints and checking footage. Tension high with lives at risk every box unexpected has become suspect. This box no different except for the fact the Miss Rittendale the principal just left for vacation yesterday. Just so happens as you probably guessed she ordered supplies for the up coming test, a fine collection of wooden number two pencils. False alarm this time but, this set back has opened this detectives eyes. For whom ever said it would be of lower class who do such heinous acts may just want to put me off my tracks.

With eyes widened the detective starts looking at those who would gain from those affected by these acts of terror. Who indeed could profit from the losses of those companies…

Oh boy I am certainly getting hungry the writer thinks to himself. Laurel stands up and turns to leave the office pushing his paperwork over covering his phone which showed a missed message. First heading to the restroom then to the kitchen. Upon entering the kitchen, Laurel freezes startled by something in the room ahead. As he slowly looks around examining the room. Asking himself aloud, What is this. Not. The tv and couch are still in the living area right in place next to the kitchen. The door is still locked tight, but there on the island in the center of his kitchen a suspicious package wrapped perfectly in brown paper lay right upon the counter top. No more than three inches thick there place directly in the center with no markings no notes nothing else seemingly altered. How could this be, what could this be sitting here waiting for me. What intruders would come leave this and take nothing, all while I wrote that silly story in my study.

Maybe I’m being paranoid Laurel thinks again to himself. How could this be when I am writing this story is it coincidence or is someone really after me. Grabbing a metal hanger from the bedroom closet he begins to unravel the hooked spiral. Hopeful more length with keep him safe from danger, he pokes and pushes this package a bit further away from himself. Nothing happened he thought what could this be. No sooner the thought and his cell phone did ring. A song playing Unforgettable by Nat King Cole his girlfriends ringtone. Oh Alice is calling, how could I forget I was supposed to call her. I suppose walking away from this thing will be safe for now I’ll get her to call help. Hello there beautiful, how is work, he says to Alice. Alice replies quickly, a wonderful day and goes on to tell him about the craziness of her day and that she will be going to see her mother.

Stopping talking for a moment she asks, oh yeah, how did you like that sandwich I left on the island. You were working so hard I didn’t want to interrupt. I sent you a text during lunch an hour ago. Feeling silly he face palms himself. Oh Alice I see your text now, you’ll never guess what happen, Laurel chuckles and grabs the sandwich. Alice laughing what did you do. As he peels pack the brown wrapper he explains about the detective story and how he thought it was a bomb. Hardly able to keep their composure from laughing, he gasps for air and tells her this sandwich is the bomb!