Sunday, 30 September 2012

The Mysterious Incident of the Glass Eye - Part 1

Just wrote this story, which I thought I'd share.  I started it at WriteNight on Monday, inspired by the writing prompts MYSTERY, GLASS EYE, DOCTOR'S SURGERY.  I have divided it into sections so it's not too long all in one go and I will post it over the next 6 days.  I hope you enjoy it! 

The Mysterious Incident of the Glass Eye - Part 1


“Aye Aye! What's going on 'ere then?” Inspector Bailey's voice boomed into the waiting room. Completely inappropriate, in the circumstances. As he took in the scene, he began to wish the ground would open up and swallow him.

When Jones had called him, at the station, to say there had been an 'unfortunate incident' in the local doctor's surgery, involving a glass eye, he couldn't prevent his inner comedian from dancing the foxtrot in the darkest recesses of his mind. Thus, he had wandered, unbidden, into the worst social faux pas of his career to date.

Before him, was a scene of absolute horror. Two elderly ladies sat on one side of the room, clutching their handbags with both hands – hands, which he noticed, were much shakier than you would expect – even from the elderly. As he made the observation, Bailey made a mental note to put his name down for that course he had seen advertised back at the station – 'Banishing your prejudice – open minded policing for a more peaceful community.”

Again, that evil, foxtrotting comedian reared his waxy moustached head. “Imagine a version of the London riots,” he leered, “where pensioners tore round the city, burning things because of some terrible police related injustice – probably involving tea and biscuits.” Bailey shut him out, focusing on the task at hand; two old ladies shaking, their eyes focused glassily on the centre of the room, where a pool of blood was slowly congealing, forming a sticky crust on the parquet flooring. In the pool, lay a man – or at least, he used to be – slim build; might have been six feet tall, had it not been for the unfortunate absence of his head. His sharp pinstripe suit was a write off; his glossy shoes – redeemable.

“Bailey!” He yelled at himself. “Never mind the suit or the shoes. Where the Hell is the man's head?”

Looking around him, the answer was obvious. It was sprayed all over the wall adjacent to the old ladies – and all over a poor teenager and a little boy seated in front of the wall. Their silhouettes formed white figures within the fine spatter marks. It looked like a graffiti artist had spray painted the man's brains onto the wall. Both youngsters stared vacantly at the headless corpse, their jaws hanging open in disbelief. This was going to cost psychiatric a lot.

At that moment, Jones walked in, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

“Ah, Bailey,” he beamed. “What do you make of all this?”

Bailey paused a moment. “Different.”

“Just had a chat with the receptionist,” Jones revealed. “She's a hottie and the only witness who's not catatonic. Did you know she met one of the men from her little black book at the weekend? Apparently, she was on a spa weekend and he just walked in with his big ...”

“The case, Jones!” Bailey snapped.

“Right. Sorry. She reckons it was the weirdest thing. This guy – the headless horseman over there – walks in, demanding to see a doctor. He's not a patient here so she pesters him for his details and he just shouts at her – all aggressive like – and demands to see a doctor. She notices he has a glass eye which has a light blinking in it. He screams this bloodcurdling scream and his head explodes – just like them fembot things in Austin Powers, only ...” Jones indicated the carnage behind him, “bit messier.”

Bailey was incredulous. “You telling me his glass eye blew his head off?”

“Cool huh!” Jones loved a gruesome crime scene.

“Hmm...” Bailey grunted. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and tugged them onto his hands, satisfaction filling him as the flexible material snapped against his skin. He examined the reception desk and noticed a small, circular object. Pulling a pair of tweezers from his inside pocket, he picked it up and dropped it into a transparent evidence bag. He glanced at it. It glanced back. Bailey jumped. It was a hazel iris with a minute circuit board on the reverse side. “Jones!” Bailey yelled. “I've found the detonator!”
 
© Annie Bell 2012

2 comments:

  1. Oh Jo I love this, makes me want to read more. Also reminds me, at primary school we had a boy who had a glass eye and he used to take it out and let us look in the socket! Lol...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Glad you like it! Would love to have met your friend ... and his eye socket! :-)

      Delete