Murder at Bristle Bog

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by *Kimber03 (01), Oct 31, 2010.

  1. This is just a mystery I'm writing. (No Arimay I'm not copying you.) This is my first try at the mystery genre and I'm doing this on iPod so don't be too harsh. This will probably not be popular so enjoy it if you like. Here it goes. 
    And No Posting On Here Please!


    Chapter 1: On the Road
    The sunlight dappled the seat of our family minivan and added a comforting setting to the drab car and scenery. 
    "Now quit pouting Junior," my mother says as she takes pictures out the car window at particularly nothing. 
    I roll my eyes as I lay my head on the seatbelt and drift to sleep, thinking what I did to deserve this. 
    Basically, it all started when my dad wanted to plan a nice vacation for the three of us. Him being a terrible planner he booked a cruise ship too late  and we were stuck at the docks in our tacky tourist clothes. 
    My mother then perked up as she always does and suggests a vacation at my uncle's 'house.' I define it as a hovel. It's a run down old shack of a house and in the middle of a swamp, or a bog as my dad says. It's just a mucky, foul smelling pathetic place that doesn't even deserved to be called a bog, more like a puddle. I remember myself looking after the cruise ship that was chugging away, wondering if I could make it to the ship if I swam off the dock. 
     
  2. Chapter 2: Fog in the Bog
    My mother talks into her cellphone with a country drawl she doesn't have. She says it's more 'folksy' in this part of the country and it's a lot more fun to talk with. 
    I whisper to myself with the accent my mother used and decide it's not half 
    as fun as she says. 
    The road begins to fog up to a point where it's nearly impossible to see anything, even with the headlights on. 
    "Rory," my mother says using a nickname on my dad, "are y'all sure you took the right road?" Again with the accent. 
    My dad glances at the GPS on the dashboard of the car and scratches his balding head. 
    "Pretty sure," he replies. 
    As he reconfigures the GPS I adjust my head on the seatbelt and stare out the window.
    "Say cheese!" 
    I shield my eyes from the blinding flash of the camera and turn my face from a frown into a scowl. 
    "Stop with the dang pictures!" I yell at her, my hands searching for something to throw. 
    "Junior!" my mother gasps at me as she turns away, sniffling. 
    "I need air," I mumble a bit guiltily as I throw the minivan door open. 
    No one pays attention to me. 
    The fog seemed to be growing thicker and the suffocating smell of the swamp threatens to choke me. I jump out of the car only to my dismay, I land in a puddle of swamp water and mud. 
    "Just my luck."