This tale (Written by a student of Mr. Key at Jefferson MS) is a story in a new set. If this seems unfinished that is likely because of the time restraints that the students had to abide by. So without further ado: “The Murder of Minocqua.” (Written to teens or young adults.)
By: Sarah G.
A shrill scream echo’s through the evacuated frozen streets of Minocqua Wisconsin, causing the horrific noise to travel to the ends of the small town. It only woke a few of the sleep-deprived citizens of Minocqua; the same excuse came into their minds. Mrs. Burcolts must be having another child.
My footsteps are the only noise in the town. Gees Lisa why did I have to check the store at five thirty in the mourning’s in a Wisconsin winter, because she is my wife, my beautiful, hard working, bossy wife. The familiar stores of Main Street are surrounding me. A thick layer of dull snow and glassy ice covering every inch of this god-forsaken town, preventing me to see the bright summer colors. At the end of the parade of snow creatures. I finally approach THE General Store of Minocqua. My near frostbitten finger dig around in my nylon pants until I pull out the huge wad of icy metal keys that unlock every object you could possibly imagine. It takes several seconds for my foggy brain to locate the key that unlocks the front door. I know that I am not supposed to enter through the front door; I am supposed to continue around back to the staff entrance. That would include another five minutes of walking through the frozen air. What she does not know does not hurt her. My clumsy finger finally unlocks the five locks on the front door. I step into the main entrance of the so familiar store.
I glance around at the many isles of stuff fulfilling the huge room, the most popular and desirable items standing out for all to see and want. The average cork message board that says “COMMUNITY” in hand-painted letters, and is filled with fliers for anything you could possibly want, need, and many things that are not on either of those lists. The long line of stacked shopping carts is frozen to one another. The whole store is projecting a gloomy appearance. I travel the far side of the store, which contains the bakery, to the maintenance closet. I flip the switch to turn on the lights in the congested, musty room.
Her once lushes brown hair is matted with thick brown blood. She is wearing a yellow dress, if you could call it yellow after all the bloodstains that cover its silky surface. A deep wound is located under the collarbone on the left side of her petite body, right where the heart is. She is sprawled on the maintenance floor like an unwanted doll, her body in a position of surprise. Her beautiful face is mercilessly untouched. Her jaw is small and unpronounced; she has high cheekbones that you could tell were one day rosy. Her almond shaped eyes are still open, showing that they are pristine, blue, and unique. Ears are ears, but hers are what you could imagine fairy ears look like.