My name is Ethan Johnsen and I live in a shady town called Scarville, a town filled with confusion and so-called dispatch of crime, while in the meantime it’s actually a brewing cage for loathsome low-life killers . Considering my failed massacre, I believe the town had deemed worthy of its name.
To write the perfect story, you need the right idea. And what better way to is there to solve the perfect murder story on paper... Well to actually commit it of course.
It’s senior year, a year where studying is considered as compulsory and at the same time seen as a total waste of effort. Collage exceptions are first priority to all senior year candidates. Where do I want to go? Bridgestone collage of course.
Transferring from Scarville High to Shorthill prep wasn’t an easy change in my senior year. Although it was my dream writing school, it was still a struggle leaving my friends behind. But at Shorthill prep, my chances of getting into Bridgestone collage are immense thanks to the competition to declare the next “Raven Black” ghost writer.
Cornelius Jones, or CJ as some might call him, was my biggest competition. He grew up in Shorthill and he passes the whole rich boy vibe check. Being roommates with a smug miscreant like him wasn’t always easy but I had my ways to cope with it. From the beginning I could see CJ and his crop didn’t want me there. Was it the feeling of invasion or jealousy? Or were they hiding something, something that nobody except CJ and his little cult and Mr. Duly knew about.
It was only a day until I started realizing that somethings seemed horrid. CJ’s posse’s chatter would seize as soon as I approached, CJ will leave the dorm every Wednesday at 23:00 sharp and the mysterious missing 5 students in the past decade was wat triggered my curiosity the most. I fantasized about the school’s mysteries and started investigating to find the missing pieces to the puzzle.
The day after we were told about the ghost writer contract for Raven Black by Mr. Duly, I eavesdropped on CJ and one of his cronies and I heard my name and something about adding a supplementary member to the mysterious missing 5.
The following night was the school’s annual senior dance. It was no surprise to see my best friend Tommy Alice from Scarville High with his beloved girlfriend Jonna Brooks, one of our candidates here at Shorthill prep. I knew that something was strange, but I’d had to wait and see where the night takes me.
It wasn’t long until CJ invited me into the woods for my “initiation”. We walked about a mile into the woods and not a single word uttered from our mouths. We then arrived at a cult-like setting and the smell of fire smoke pierced through my nostrils. I felt a cold rigid object hitting me in the back of the head and half unconscious I could feel how I was being strangled. I had no power nor the breath to fight back.
Meanwhile at the dance, my friend Tommy’s drink was spiked and short after they lead him to the woods where he passed out short before he was laid next to my corpse, smeared with the bloody evidence of my attempted murder. Luckily for me, those idiotic scumbags didn’t check if I was even dead.
The perfect murder for the perfect murder story. It was hard pretending to be dead, going of the radar, faking a funeral and yet the only people who knew I was alive was me and Tommy. I had to lay low to untangle the twisted knots, to know who had done it for sure and why.
After researching the mysterious missing 5, I had found out that they were all offered a ghost writer contract for Raven Black and all of them died shortly after due to some tragic accident of suicide. It’s strange how they offered a ghost writer contract while the story already had one, Mr. Duly, whos’ real name was Francis Paddington, a serial killer that disappeared of the grid a few years ago.
After solving my own murder case, I returned to Shorthill prep where my normal day-to-day classmates (CJ, his group and Mr. Duly) were infuriatedly shocked to see I was not dead. Having to explain their own murder was the best and having CJ to be as dumb as ever, he ratted out one of his friends for not checking my pulse. All the evidence I needed to exploit their master plan.
At the end of the day, no one got the ghost writer contract considering that I was still dead thanks to reports, Mr. Duly committed suicide due to guilt and knowing he would have been sent to jail and CJ disappeared of the radar and knowing if he will ever stop running is still to be answered.
