Chapter One: The Beginning

The place where I’m currently hiding out has no internet connection which is a shame as I would have liked to have spent my final hours watching cats fall into boxes. However, I suppose a reasonably adequate way to spend my time would be by recounting the tale of how I came to be in a crummy old apartment with damp floor boards, mould stains bigger than my head and a computer from the 90s which seems impressed by the fact that it has the ability to turn on at all. Oh, I know, I could make it all fancy like some kind of story or something!

Chapter One: The Beginning

See? Look at that chapter title. So fresh, so original. Doesn’t it make you want to read about my heroic tale? Wait! Is there meant to be any text before the chapter title? Is that first bit considered a prologue?
You know what? I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, I am a wonderful person and therefore, by its very definition, everything I write will be wonderful as well. We’ll call it experimentation and anyone who doesn’t like it just ‘doesn’t get it.’ If I use enough big words to justify my choice then maybe they’ll stop because they feel too stupid to protest.
Turns out, I don’t know all that many big words and due to my lack of internet I can’t exactly search for them. Still, I think I’ve passed enough time with the compelling, if slightly rambling, details of my book design.

I suppose the best place to start would be before the murders. Well, before most of the murders anyway; the first one can still have happened as that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. But all the other murders haven’t happened yet so please bear that in mind as you begin to read. I’ll aim this at you because, chances are, if you found this tale either on this really bad computer or elsewhere then you’ll have probably heard about all the murders and I really don’t want you reading this with any form of prejudice (Ha, see I do know a big word). So, put all the murders out of mind and we can begin.

It all started when I discovered that my rich uncle had been murdered. The most unfortunate thing about this discovery was that he wasn’t my uncle and he apparently wasn’t murdered but that’s all beside the point when you think about it. It first came to my attention when I read it in one of the morning newspapers. The headline went as follows: LOCAL PHILANTHROPIST DROWNED IN POND. It wasn’t the most creative headline, granted, but it was enough to pique my interest. As I read the article, I discovered a number of things: Firstly, I’d bought a newspaper. Secondly, the man in question had an incredibly posh name- Maximillian Charlesworth I think. Thirdly, he’d been found dead in his duck pond at 3 a.m. two nights previously. Fourthly, this man had a duck pond. Fifthly, this man was rich. Sixthly, the newspaper was a day old.
Acting on all of the information that I had gleaned from the paper, I darted out of my house and straight into a Hansom which carried me to the scene of the crime...
Sorry, I’ll try not to lie during this. After I read the article, I poured myself a bowl of cornflakes and searched the fridge for some milk. To be honest, the very fact that I owned a fridge always amazed me.
At that point in time, I lived in a shabby three roomed apartment with peeling wallpaper and bare floor boards which were stained with substances that wouldn’t put anyone’s mind at ease if they were named. From these three rooms, I sculpted a bedroom, a living room and a bathroom. The living room had an old, moth bitten sofa, a television given to me as a present ten years ago which still just about worked if you didn’t mind pretending that ever show was filmed during a snow storm (the Queen’s Speech was actually improved by this) and a small coffee table which often had remnants of previous meals encrusted on to its battered surface.
The bedroom contained my bed, big enough only for one, and the fridge which kept me up most nights due to its incessant humming.
The bathroom contained a toilet with a cracked seat, a chipped wash basin and a stained bath which I could only fit into if I tucked my knees into my chest. The primary use of the bathroom, particularly the sink, was to clean any dishes that I used as it was quite a challenge to get clean in a room which can only really be described as scummy.
As you may be able to tell from all this, I had no way to cook things, no real way to wash clothes and no way to store things, so life was reasonably bleak. I suppose I could use that as a justification for all that’s to come. Okay, yeah, that’s my justification. Remember the fridge in the bedroom and everything I do will be a lot easier to swallow, okay? Good.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, milk. I looked in the fridge and found that I had no milk. As well as having no milk, it turned out that I didn’t really have anything of note in my fridge, or in my house at all really save for my box of cornflakes- kept on my bedroom floor along with the few dishes and other personal items I had to my name at the time. I found a spoon lying next to a sock. Both the sock and the spoon looked relatively clean which was a blessing so I grabbed the spoon before any of the resident dirt could find its way onto it.
I munched my way through my dry bowl of cornflakes and began to ponder what I was going to have to buy today and whether I’d be able to afford it all. In fairness, I probably would have got along better if I had managed to secure something better than a paper round by the time I was twenty four but unfortunately that didn’t seem all possible. Luckily for me, my mother was happy to pay for the crummy apartment that I lived in if only because she didn’t want me at home ruining things between her and Juan. She’d also helped me buy all of the furniture in this apartment. Granted, it was all second hand but it was furniture none the less.
Bread. I needed to buy bread. I’ve always thought that you can’t go too far wrong with bread and the small amount of money I had left in my piggy bank should just cover it. Also, I’d be picking up my paper round wage in a few days so if I could hold out until then I’d be fine. Any shortcomings in the plan could easily have been covered with takeaways and special offers on Pot Noodles- I cooked Pot Noodles by pouring hot water from the tap on them, shaking them a bit, blowing on them and deciding that I’d done pretty much the same job as a microwave at only a fraction of the price.
After deciding to buy bread, I began to think about the man who had managed to drown himself in a duck pond. It seemed too much to be true... too much to be true! Of course it was! It was murder! It was at that point I leapt up from the sofa with such force that I banged my shin on the coffee table and choked slightly on my cornflakes. After that, I resolved to solve the mystery of the murdered man. In doing so, I’d gain the family’s favour and they’d be so happy that they’d give me all their money or the house or maybe just the duck pond but it wouldn’t matter because it would be something. Grinning from ear to ear, I ate my cornflakes in preparation of the big day that lay before me.