These next two pieces are by a guy called Mikey Ratcliffe-a wonderful fellow I met on a UKChatterbox chatroom!
I stood there, shaking, staring down at the mess
in front of me. I ran out to the edge of the road
and hailed a taxi. I jumped in before he even
stopped, slipped the driver a twenty and just
asked him to drive.
?Rough night?? He asked. I didn?t reply at first,
just rested my head against the back seat and
tried to control my nerves.
?You could say that.? I replied, then stared out
of the window. It seemed so much simpler before.
Just a few hours ago I was getting ready for what
was to be the best day of my life. I sat there in
the makeup room, relaxed, happily getting
pampered by various girls whose sole purpose was
to make me look beautiful. There was very little
talk; everyone was rushing around applying the
final touches before I was to parade myself on
stage. Even the girl who designed and made my
outfit was not happy. For the first time in my
career as a professional dancer, I was the
bookies favourite in the women?s singles
division. Later on that night I was to be sitting
up there, like a queen, with the gold medal
around my neck. ?Untouchable? That?s what the
papers called me, with the lack of competition in
my division, almost everyone expected me to
stroll through the competition.
A knock at the door broke me out of my dreams of
success and grandeur.
?Enter,? I said, trusting the mirror in front of
me to tell me who it was. It was the
competition?s only security guard, Bob. As he
came further into the room I saw two policemen
followed him.
?Mrs Florence, we have reason to believe you have
been partaking in the illegal use and selling of
class A drugs.? The lead policeman informed me.
?We have a warrant here to search the premises.?
He said, holding up an official looking piece of
paper. I turned and nodded then turned back and
stared once again into the mirror. ?This cannot
be happening! Not tonight!? I thought as I
glimpsed round occasionally to see the policemen
rummaging through everything. Eventually, having
found no success, they asked me to empty my
handbag and pockets. As I reached into my bag
after taking out my purse, my hand touched
something in my bag that I was sure was not there
before. I felt tempted to leave it there, and
hope they wouldn?t notice, but I could feel their
eyes staring, piercing every bit of confidence I
had left. I picked the object out of my bag, my
hand shaking as I did so. My mouth opened and, if
it were possible, my heart fell to the floor as I
pulled out a transparent bag that contained a
white substance.
?It can?t be.? I murmured, as I stood there in a
zombie like state, while the policeman read me my
rights. I had been clean for years; I had worked
so hard to turn my life around and now this. I
wanted to tell them that this was all a big
mistake and that the drugs must have been
planted, probably by that evil bitch Vanessa, who
was sure to win the show in my absence but
somehow the words did not reach my mouth. I was
still in shock as they took me into the station,
passing all the low lives I had promised myself
to stay clear off, although now it seemed that I
was destined to live my life amongst them. They
took me into a bare looking room, which had only
a few plastic seats, and a table with a well used
tape recorder sitting in the middle of it. The
detective, who had taken over, informed me that
they were going to ask me a few questions, whilst
the powder they had found was being tested. I
seemed to be in there forever, as they seemed to
ask me for almost a life story. Finally, they
were called outside, and after a few moments they
came back in with faces not too dissimilar to the
face I pulled when they took me away.
?We offer our utmost apologies, miss Florence.?
He said. I looked up at them, face full of
confusion.
?After extensive testing, we have found the
substance was just ordinary washing up powder.
Something had been done to it to remove its
smell. You must understand that, knowing your
past??
I shot up straight out of my chair. ?I can?t
believe this! You ruined my life! Over what? Soap
powder!?
The detective just bowed his head apologetically.
I stormed out of the room and after a short
slanging match, I got my stuff back from the
front desk. I stormed out of the station and
caught the nearest taxi. I didn?t know why, maybe
I liked to torture my self but I asked him to
make a short detour so that we went past The De
Ve?re, which was where the competition was to
take place. It was empty now, the competition
long finished. I got out of the car right there,
paid the taxi driver and made my way to the back
of the building. There she was ? Vanessa, stealer
of dreams. It seemed she was one of the last to
leave. She strode out, grin like a Cheshire cat,
hands clinging to the trophy she had won, with
the gold medal that should have been mine shining
in the moonlight. I totally lost it, and ran
after her. She didn?t even know I was there until
I was right behind her, and even then as she
turned round, she couldn?t help but smile and ask
me if I was all right. ?Alright?? what did she
think? Her smile quickly turned to a look of
horror, as I snatched the trophy from her hands
and hit her over the head with it. She hit the
pavement with a thud, blood seemingly everywhere.
I dropped the trophy and stood there, shaking,
staring down at the mess in front of me.
?You?re phone?s ringing.? The driver informed me,
waking me from the nightmare that would now go
around in my head for the rest of my life. I
wiped away the tears and reached into my bag and
pulled out my phone. It was my ex, Johnny, not
someone I particularly wanted to talk to, but I
answered it any way, mostly out of desperation to
talk to someone I knew.
?Had a good night?? he asked, in a tone that
seemed to bring meaning to what would normally be
just a normal question a friend would ask another.
?What?s it to you?? I asked, trying to remain as
calm as possible. He laughed nastily.
?I told you, without me you?re nothing. I?ll make
damn sure of it.?
I dropped the phone awoken to the realisation
that I had just killed an innocent woman.