Epiphany

Don't you love it when you suddenly realize how something works? There's this click in your brain and ... Ah ha! Lightbulb!

Well, that happened to me... yesterday, actually, but then I expanded it on it and I LOVE the result. I'm so excited for you all to read this! Sadly... It's not ready.

I have to change the entire beginning to my Untitled story because I started doing some character building and I realized that I had portrayed my killer all wrong for my new plot to work.

So you can expect some changes in the next few days. AH!!! I'm so excited! But I feel obligated to post something for you to read... So here... It's not really going anywhere, but I think my characters are funny and I enjoyed writing it.

Enjoy!

Virtual reality Just released! New Life!

Avis heard the front door open, followed by a loud, “Avis! Aviiiiiiiiiisssssah!!!!” The long call echoed throughout the house and ended with a loud BANG as her room door was flung open and crashed into the wall.

Avis looked up from her homework, more a little annoyed by the disturbance. “What do you want?” she questioned irritably.

Her brother stood in the doorway, two years younger and just barely taller than her. Dark brown, almost black, hair drooped in front of his eyes and around his head wildly. Avis’ fingers twitched, itching to cut it. His eyes were dark as well, and now they glittered in excitement, wide with anticipation.

Triumphantly he threw revealed his hands, which had been nestled firmly behind his back until this point, in them was a small box. The box was covered in bright colors and pictures of dragons, warriors, archers, most of whom were scantily clad women and the garish title: New Life.

“I got it! I was the first one in line at the GameStop and the first one to buy it!” He was practically jumping up and down with excitement. His eyes gazed hungrily at the box in his hands, he was just dying to try it out.

Avis sighed loudly as she pushed herself away from her desk. “Niko, why don’t you do something better with your life? These games aren’t real, they will do nothing for your grades or future, and the friends you make on them are...” she trailed off, not wanted to bluntly state how she felt. It would only hurt her brothers feelings. “What about the lacrosse team? Weren’t you going to go and practice with them today?”

Undeterred Niko plopped down on Avis’ pristine bed making her flinch. She’d have to remake it when he left. “It was cancelled for this.” He indicated the box he was holding. “All the boys on the team were getting one and it was going to take all day to get through the lines,” he sighed happily. “Haaa, I’m so glad I thought to camp out last night.”

It always shocked Avis, no matter how many times she saw it. She couldn’t believe that he was really only two years younger than her. This boy needed to grow up and she felt that he never would. Avis gave up. Looking at his blissful expression now, she couldn’t bring herself to restrict him, to scold him. He would have to mature eventually, it wasn’t her business if he didn’t want to do it now.

Turning back to her homework, she said simply, “Make sure you clean your room and do your homework before you start playing. If I come in and there is so much as a speck of dust on the floor-” she turned to glare at him, implying death punishment. “I’ll also check your homework and actually read through it, so don’t think you can pull any shortcuts. Do a good job the first time and you won’t have to do it again.”

Leaping from the bed Niko, came and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, mmmmwa, mmmwa, mmwa!” He kissed her loudly and with exaggerated movements, making them comical. Passively, Avis accepted the hugs and kisses and shooed him out gently. Singing tunelessly he skipped out the door and blew her another kiss before going off to do his chores.

Avis watched him go, worry eating at her. He would never get anywhere at this rate. And I can’t make him be any different. she thought wryly. Curse you, free agency. Mentally shaking a fist at the ceiling and turned back to her homework.

Niko had, of course, cut corners but it was better than he usually did. She didn’t go easy on him when it came to homework though. He had to improve. That night they spend at least a half and hour going over the theme for his essay. When Avis felt he had a firm grasp on the subject she let him write it and went off to bed.

The next morning at school she was surprised to find that her brother wasn’t the only one with a craze for New Life.

“Avis! Yoo-hoo!” Turning Avis found Ellie running toward her had full speed, long blond hair flying out behind her. Bracing herself for impact, Avis managed to stay upright as Ellie leaped onto her, practically strangling her. “I missed you so much! Why didn’t you call me back? I wanted to talk to you last night about-” Ellie chatted to herself.

Prying the smaller girl from her and set her on her own two feet, relieved to find she could still breathe. Ellie came up to Avis’s mouth, with a slim build and a carefree air that would deceive anyone. In reality, the girl in front of her knew every martial art that ever existed and had mastered them all. It never ceased to amaze Avis how Ellie pranced around like a dancer, light on her feet.

Ellie was still chattering happily as they went off to class. It was only then that Ellie’s words started to sink in.

“New Life? You’re playing New Life?” Avis felt stunned and slightly betrayed.

Ellie nodded jauntily, lithely slipping into her seat. “Yup, I was at it all night. I’m already level 10! But it’s pretty easy to Level Up when you are in the early stages. Samaria!” Ellie rushed off to give the newcomer a gripping hug. Avis hadn’t even seen the smaller girl get up from her seat. Samaria patiently stood still until Ellie had finished hugging her and then moved quietly to her seat, pulling out the material they would need for the class. She never seemed to like or dislike the embraces that Ellie gave her.

Immediately Ellie rushed into an account of her night. Avis ignored her. Ellie never shut up and sometimes you just had to shut her out. “How are you, Samaria?”

Samaria looked up from her text book. Her deep blue, nearly purple, eyes met hers through the thick lenses of her glasses. She nodded once, “I’m fine.” and turned back to her book. Avis smiled, Samaria was quiet, usually alone and yet easily approachable. She was small, too, her reddish hair was cut short, to her chin angled downward. Her face was fine, fragile, unlined, and doll-like. Avis had never seen her smile, cry, frown or show any emotion of any kind. Ellie on the other hand...

Ellie was waving her arms dramatically, explaining the details of her story that neither of her friends had been listening to. Ellie’s face was plump and always smiling.

The teacher called for attention at the head of the classroom and somehow, Ellie was able to remain silent for the first ten minutes of class.

Tagged...

Okay, Alex tagged me and I felt like I couldn't let her down. So here's a little bit about my process. By the way for any who read my blog, I am faithful followers of Alex(yohoawriterslifeforme.blogspot.com) and Erin(givingbackyesterday.blogspot.com). Awesomeness in a jar.

1. Tell us about your favorite writ­ing project/universe that you’ve worked with and why.
HA! Well... I had this story I had been working on since oh... since I was eleven and as an eleven year old, it wasn't very good. It was quite horrible, in fact. But I enjoyed working on it, expanding it and creating new characters. There's something about your first story that makes it special. It's morphed beyond recognition now and you might see flashes of it here and there.

2. How many char­ac­ters do you have? Do you pre­fer males or females?
I've got a bagillion too, I prefer females, I'll be honest. I know how girls think and feel and they come to me easier than guys. Besides I'm all for awesome girls, they make me happy.

3. How do you come up with names for char­ac­ters (and for places if you’re writ­ing about fic­tional places)? Like Erin I rely on baby sites. Yup, definitely awkward in a public place but it's even worse if it's at BYU, you really could be prego... ANYWAY... I have a hard time with names, I'm usually asking friends or I'll pick a letter and write down all the names I can with that one letter. It's pretty interesting and extremely difficult.


4. Tell us about one of your first stories/characters!
First real story? Well... I have two, one was spawned from the ponies that I played with EVERYDAY of my life when I was little, so I wrote a story about my horses. But the other story was about a vigilante called Towana, I always wanted to be like Batman, thought he was awesome. 'Cept I added in some magic.

5. By age, who is your youngest char­ac­ter? Old­est? How about “youngest” and “old­est” in terms of when you cre­ated them?
Ugh... When I write stories I follow my characters to death. I have to know what happens to them after the fact. I hate stories that just end... and you are left hanging wondering what the heck happened to all the little people that you have come to love. So umm... we are going to say... Mel? she's probably my youngest character that I've really developed, you haven't met her and probably won't. Oldest... ummm Old Agnus, she used to be called the Old Hag. Oh, but then there are the Elders, they are way old, duh. Oldest as mentioned before is Towana. Youngest in terms of creation would have to be Fletcher... Name is bound to change but I LOVE her character. She's new and I'm still working on a story for her.

6. Where are you most com­fort­able writ­ing? At what time of day? Com­puter or good ol’ pen and paper?
Paper is good for outlines and just venting ideas. Computer helps me edit though and get some of the dialogue down, I type faster (and prettier) than I write. Where? library is good, home is good, I just need to be plugged in (headphones) if it's a public place and sometimes at home too. Time of the day, usually just when i feel like it. It doesn't matter when, it's more of a matter of if I have anything to say.

7. Do you lis­ten to music while you write? What kind? Are there any songs you like to relate/apply to your char­ac­ters?
Actually I just listen to favorites, mostly the music is there to drown the rest of the world out. I often forget when my music stops playing and my headphones aren't playing anything. I tend to focus to an extreme. I don't really relate music to my characters but there have been times when I'm listening to a song and I just want to cry or laugh cause it sounds like one of them.

8. What’s your favorite genre to write? To read?
Fiction... Honestly it doesn't matter as long as it's good. If you've read it and can vouch for it I'll read it. I actually just discovered the Non-fiction section of the library and I'm having fun researching stuff from there. I don't really have time but Fantasy has to be my favorite. Science fiction and historical fiction work too. I tend to stick to the teen fiction section though, usually it's much cleaner than the adult section. Come on we all know it's true.

9. How do you get ideas for your char­ac­ters? Describe the process of cre­at­ing them.
EVERYWHERE. I mean I look at people sometimes and I look at how they walk and think... hmmm they have more of a bounce, or... they glide I wonder... You know, I look at people, movies, books, friends and probably most importantly to myself. I do some real self-searching when I'm creating a character.

10. What are some really weird sit­u­a­tions your char­ac­ters have been in? Every­thing from seri­ous canon scenes to meme ques­tions counts!
Ummm... weird situations? ugh... Seriously? I've have a character watch her father die... That made me cry. Like I was balling for days. Not really weird... more like running or fighting for their lives. I had one character who had her wallet stolen and so she couldn't pay for coffee. Nothing really weird.

11. Who is your favorite char­ac­ter to write? Least favorite?
Favorite? of gosh. There are too many! Right now it's Fletcher, she just takes on the world and I love her. I know Fletcher for a girl? but I liked it. Anyway, least favorite? No idea, probably the guys. Any teenage boys... They are a mystery to me.

12. In what story did you feel you did the best job of world­-build­ing? Any side-notes on it you’d like to share?
World building isn't my strong point but I'm working on it. I tend to focus on what I know, but I do end up doing a little research. I'm exploring some new cultures and i want to integrate them into some of my stories. My suggestion? Take a geology class, totally blows your mind. You understand the earth so much better.

13. What’s your favorite cul­ture to write, fic­tional or not?
Right now, I've been sticking to my own little made up world... You could say... a mix between colonial and medieval. But like I said, I want to expand a little.

14. How do you map out loca­tions, if needed? Do you have any to show us?

Hmmm... first I focus on my story line, then I try and envision what this person is surrounded by. It really helps if you have some soundtrack music for this, it helps you envision the scenery as it would appear in say a movie and it helps the land around the character become real.

15. Mid­way ques­tion! Tell us about a writer you admire, whether pro­fes­sional or not!
You've got to be kidding me. Do you know how many authors I love? Okay... If you haven't read any of her stuff you should. She makes me feel... like I can make a difference. Sherryl Jordan, my personal favorites are Winter of Fire, Secret Sacrament and there's a sequel. I LOVE how she makes the most insignificant people do the most amazing things. If you look to the right you'll see a list of authors I enjoy.

16. Do you write roman­tic rela­tion­ships? How do you do with those, and how “far” are you will­ing to go in your writ­ing? ;)
Romantic relationships are probably my weakest point in writing. I feel awkward writing it and then when i read it, I pick it apart and it's even more awkward! How far? HA! that's funny, you are talking to a perfectly innocent Mormon girl who would be WAY too embarrassed to even try. (kidding about innocence, not about embarrassment) So i stick to action and heart wrenching emotions. I'm working on getting my humor in there.

17. Favorite pro­tag­o­nist and why!
Hmmm... Well, I've been tweaking all my characters but I think Sienna is still my favorite, she's awesome. We'll see how she develops though.

18. Favorite antag­o­nist and why!
Hmmm. You haven't met him yet but my bad guy in Sienna is pretty amazing. My sister (whom I rely on for most of my reading material and critiquing) said he was excellent and I believe her. I mean he's just a good bad guy!

19. Favorite minor that decided to shove him-self into the spot-light and why!
Detective Ellison, totally wasn't expecting him to come out like he did. I'm still developing his character but I'm pretty happy with how he's turning out.

Okay, side note. As you can tell half of these stories and in the middle of construction and I'm trying to work and go to school, there isn't a lot of time. So i apologize. But I'll do my best.

20. What are your favorite char­ac­ter inter­ac­tions to write?
Witty banter, I fail at it, but I love it.

21. Do any of your char­ac­ters have chil­dren? How well do you write them?
Yes, not telling who just yet, it's not set in stone. Well, I personally don't think i write them well. But most children I like to include in my stories are not like normal children. so I can't say if I write them well or not.

22. Tell us about one scene between your char­ac­ters that you’ve never writ­ten or told any­one about before! Seri­ous or not.
There are a billion. I mean it's how I work out my scenes! I have them work out in my head a hundred different ways, sometimes it's really funny 'cause I'll be muttering to myself or doing what the character is doing and my family will walk in on me. Some good stories there. Uh... nope. Not telling.


23. How long does it usu­ally take you to com­plete an entire story—from plan­ning to writ­ing to post­ing (if you post your work)?
Oh wow... you don't know me. Okay for Sienna, I had completely finished it and then decided that I was going to have to throw out most of it. It took me nearly a two years to plan it out completely I mean from developing the idea to going through the plot a hundred times to creating the world/characters and THEN putting it on paper and that was my first draft.

Sad story, my first draft of Sienna was a hundred pages and my computer crashed and I lost 80 percent of it. I cried.

24. How will­ing are you to kill your char­ac­ters if the plot so demands it? What’s the most inter­est­ing way you’ve killed some­one?
Are you kidding? Killing someone is the best way to go! I mean if you are going to leave a story why not go out with a bang? I've always respected characters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for others, so you'll see that quite a bit in my stories.

25. Do any of your char­ac­ters have pets? Tell us about them.
Pets? Not very often... occasionally a horse. I think I had one with a... actually I don't think I did. Huh... I've never thought about that. It's kind of odd because I LOVE animals. It's just that we've never really had any pets so I never considered letting my characters having one.

26. Let’s talk art! Do you draw your char­ac­ters? Do oth­ers draw them? Pick one of your OCs and post your favorite pic­ture of him!
OH!!!!! If only I could draw! at most I'll draw the house (I'm good at boxes) or maps.

27. Along sim­i­lar lines, do appear­ances play a big role in your sto­ries? Tell us about them, or if not, how you go about design­ing your char­ac­ters.
Well, I respect beauty but at the same time I don't consider it important, so I tend to make my characters normal with a distinguishing characteristic rather than appearance. I think that much more mysterious and intriguing.

28. Have you ever writ­ten a char­ac­ter with phys­i­cal or men­tal dis­abil­i­ties? Describe them, and if there’s noth­ing major to speak of, tell us a few smaller ones.
I really REALLY respect people with physical disabilities, I've never tried a mental one but I'm going to have to try now. Blindness, or the loss of a limb are my favorites to write.

29. How often do you think about writ­ing? Ever come across some­thing in real life that reminds you of your story/characters?
When I'm not swamped? All the time and all the time. Someone will do something and I'll try and envision what kind of person they are. You could say I'm judging but to me it's a character building exercise. One time I saw a haircut that looked just how I wanted one of my characters to have it and I about freaked.

30. Final ques­tion! Tag some­one! And tell us what you like about that per­son as a writer and/or about one of his/her characters!
Oh dear... Anyone who takes the time to read this and if you enjoy writing, please do, it really makes you think about your writing.

Sweaty Hands

Did you know that piano players, well the professionals or people aspiring to be professional, play an average of four hours a day? Crazy right? When they play the piano that much (sometimes even more when they are accompanying for plays or shows) the oil on their hands rubs off onto the keys.

You are NEVER supposed to clean a pianos keys though, the players HATE clean keys. They say it feels wrong and some refuse to play on clean keys. I work in the HFAC right? so I'm the one who ends up moving pianos, dusting them etc... and once someone cleaned the keys! Idiot! and the piano guy, Keith, had to rub wax on the keys so they felt... oily and "right" according to the performer. I thought it was pretty weird, Keith agreed with me.

Plus, without all that oil on the players hands makes their fingers dry and makes 'em crack easily. My choir teacher was playing for a show and she had to use super glue to keep her fingers together so they would bleed all over the piano. She said it didn't hurt but... I don't really believe her. Then after she finished the play. She kept rubbing her hands against her pants. She said they felt REALLY oily after being without oil for like a month.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, first off, I thought it was interesting. Second, that's kind of how I feel right now. My hands feel sooooo... bleh... and it keeps hindering my writing.

Anyway here's another piece... i don't know how this story is going to end up.... There are too many directions it could go. Please comment.

Chapter 1... continued

“We call him the Tattoo Killer,” Troy raised an eyebrow and Ellison shrugged, “not original or fancy but it describes this guy well enough. In the past three years he has killed over twenty men and women all with the same tattoo with small variations. He leaves minimal evidence behind; his M. O. changes randomly and he kills in random areas, impossible to track or predict.” He shook his head in frustration. “And the only connection we can find between the victims are the tattoos.”

Tawnia nodded approvingly. “You’ve been investigating it?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded once, “On my own time, of course.” He added for the sake of his superior.

“Of course.” Troy agreed reassuringly, not really believing his partner. In truth the hard detective didn’t mind and Ellison’s hard work was paying off. Troy rounded on Tawnia, “Alright, Natalie Banks could’ve been killed by this guy. Question is why?” he asked Tawnia.

Troy and Ellison waited expectantly as Tawnia gathered her thoughts. “Natalie Banks was involved in what you might call… a gang or a cult, an organization that tattooed its members with a symbol so they would all recognize each other—”

“You’re saying this is a just gang fight?” Troy asked incredibly.

She shook her head. “No, it’s much bigger than that. These people are untouchable, influential and very powerful and the people hunting them down are the same way. It’s an underground war.”

The older detective shook his head in disappointment. “This sounds like conspiracy theory.” He muttered under his breath.

Tawnia’s eyes hardened and she shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

“And how do you know all of this, Miss Henderson? Are you apart of one of these… battling organizations?” His last words were dripping with sarcasm. “The more I hear the more I think that you have something to do with all of this. You were here within minutes of the murder, you just happen to know the significance of the tattoo, how the victim died, and you conveniently are too weak to have pulled it off. I’m sorry, Miss Henderson, but I just have a hard time believing it all.” He stood up straight and ended politely. “Thank you, Miss Henderson, if you remember anything else, perhaps of some use, please give us a call.” He handed her a card and turned on his heel.

Ellison gazed after his partner; Troy was headed back to the scene, talking to some of the officers, but he lingered, delayed by conflicting emotions. Tawnia held the small white business card, looking dejected and defeated.

“You okay?” Ellison asked. “I know he can be harsh. He’s just… old.”

Tawnia flashed him a smile, appreciating his concern. “Nah, he’s just doing his job. He’s a good detective I didn’t really think he would believe me. It’s just… frustrating.”

“Frustrating that he doesn’t believe you? Or that you have critical information on who’s behind it and you can’t do anything about it?”

She looked up at Ellison, “Both, they are interrelated.” Sighing she cupped her chin in her hand and watched Detective Troy examine the scene.

“How do you know?”

When she returned her gaze to the young detective she sat up slightly. His eyes were determined, almost angry. She answered cautiously, watching his eyes. “You could say I’m nosy. I was intrigued by a co-worker years back. I guess he was more of a partner.” She shook her head remembering, pursing her lips in thought. “He was elusive, dodging my questions about his tattoo. He wasn’t a liar, and I could tell he didn’t want to lie to me. It made me angry that there was someone or something in his past that forced him to.” She fell silent gazing out into space. “He was a good man, a good man, who saved a lot of lives. He shouldn’t have had to die.”

“I was angry, understandably. It’s hard when you are surrounded by death and you can’t do anything about it. So… I did everything in my power to find his killer. I did some… not… so… legal things but...” she shrugged, tears starting to form. She bit her lip and fiercely wiped at her betraying tear ducts. “I found out and I found out I couldn’t do anything about it. I tried going to the police with what I knew, but they wouldn’t believe it. I had gotten my information illegally and it couldn’t be used in court. There was absolutely nothing I could do. So I went back to work and waited.” She paused. “I thought this was my chance.”

She looked up at the tall Detective. He was deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed. “Who do you think did it, Detective?”

Jerked from his thoughts, his eyes rose to meet hers and he grinned, running a hand through his wavy hair. “Well, that’s the question isn’t it? I mean the door was still locked, keys found next to her, and nothing has been touched on the inside, her money is still in her purse and this is considered a safe neighborhood. She didn't resist, there are no bruises on her arms or neck to suggest she fought. It was a frontal attack; and the only thing that touched her neck was the knife. She saw the man's face. She knew him. She trusted him."

Tawnia was tempted to whistle in awe. “How long have you been a detective?”

Proudly he grinned one-sidedly. “A year, I advanced quickly.”

“Obviously.” She considered what he had said. “So we’re looking for a strong man, who recently became acquainted with Miss Banks.”

“Why recently acquainted? Couldn’t he have known her for a long time?”

Tawnia shook her head. “No. Think about the other twenty people who died. If he had killed all of them he’d have roughly…” she paused, brow furrowed. “Fifty-four days for each murder and that’s if you leave out the time it takes to find these people. Two months isn’t a lot of time to get to know someone under the radar. He’d have wanted to remain invisible so he wouldn’t have met her friends or work partners, who could identify him.”

Ellison opened his mouth to argue when a harsh voice muttered, "Ellison, find out who Miss Banks knew, who her friends were, associates and such." Ellison looked over apologetically at Tawnia, nodded and left.

Troy glared at Tawnia. She, in turn, innocently looked up at him. “Anything I can help you with Detective?”

"No, you’ve helped enough, Miss Henderson. I’ll stay in touch.”

I Lied!

Okay I lied, I have another part of the story for you. I'm liking how it's developing but... well... give me some feedback!

Chapter 1 (Untitled)

To put it in simple mathematical terms: Police = trouble. It doesn’t matter where you are or what situation you are in, if you can, avoid the police.

Even worse than police? Detectives.

These police brought with them two detectives, it had taken them half an hour to arrive. The more experienced was called Detective Troy; he was in his early thirties, about 6'1" and had dark eyes and cropped hair. His face was lined and seemed to have a permanent scowl; he didn't smile much when he was working. His companion, and assistant, was maybe 25 or 27, built but lean. He was taller than his superior by a two or three inches but his manner was deferring. His dark eyes were bright and clear, square jaw firm. This man's name was Detective Ellison; he smiled as he got out of the car and seemed to stroll over to the police tape. Troy was already speaking with the police officer in charge.

The woman who had been killed had been a small business owner, fresh out of college. Her business had rapidly expanded and she had done well, gotten her own small house and lived in a good and safe neighborhood. Her name was Natalie Banks, no criminal record, no jail time, only a few parking and speeding tickets.
"Who found her?" Troy was still grilling the officer trying to piece everything together.
"That woman over there," he pointed to a young woman sitting on the steps that led to the door. She had a blanket and was slumped over, elbows on knees, with an indiscernible expression. "Her name's Tawnia Henderson. She—"
"Thank you." Troy left the officer and moved toward the stairs. "Miss Henderson, might I ask you a few questions?" Tawnia looked up briefly and nodded. "Tell me what happened, what you were doing here and if you have any connections with Miss Banks." He watched her carefully as she answered looking for the tale-tell signs of a liar or suspect.

With her chin resting in one hand, she replied, "I came to discuss a job offer she had for me. I had never actually seen her face until tonight. I came to her house at about..." She glanced at her phone, "20 to 10. I rang the doorbell, knocked,” she waved a hand dismissively, “no one answered. We had made an appointment so I called her cell phone, thinking I had been early or she was held up somewhere. I heard a phone ring in the alley, so I went to investigate. I found her, called 911, and here you both are." Troy had been joined by Ellison.

Troy didn’t turn to address his partner and continued his inquisition. "You had no other affiliation with Miss Banks?"

Tawnia said very clearly, "No." Troy could tell she was trying to be polite but the stress was wearing at her. "I can, however, tell you why she died and how. I don't know who but I can give you a fairly good description of the kind of person you should be looking for." She said this statement with such clarity and confidence that Troy felt sure she believed she had discovered the truth. He sighed inwardly. People believed that after watching a few Sherlock Holmes videos they could solve anything.

He studied Miss Henderson again. She was average height, taller than she was shorter, maybe 5'7", he couldn't be sure with her sitting. Her hair was dark brown and long tied back simply. She wasn't remarkably beautiful but there was something about the way she held herself. He tried to pin point what it was, but couldn't. She had complete confidence in herself, and her eyes... They say eyes are windows to the soul. He suppressed a shudder.

For a moment he thought maybe just maybe she was telling the truth, but it was more likely that she was connected to the murder herself.

She was still waiting for his response to her declaration. "Miss Henderson, are you feeling alright? You have just seen a murdered victim and you don't seem to think much of it." He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. At first she had seemed slightly confused, but she was quick and intelligent, he saw that, and she understood what he was implying.

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position against the hard ground and sat up against the wall. Almost sighing she answered, "Detective, I'm studying to be a surgeon and have been researching unexplained deaths from the past century. Forgive me if I'm a little insensitive. I can however tell you that this woman's throat was cut with real force. The knife cut through her trachea and both of the arteries on either side. For a wound that deep it would have to have been a young man who is strong and practiced at murder."

Tawnia didn't wait for a reaction or interruption. "Miss Banks also had a tattoo on her shoulder." She rubbed her own shoulder.

Ellison stiffened.

Both Tawnia’s and Troy’s eyes flickered to him, digesting his reaction.

“Ellison?” Troy prompted.

Ellison nodded once and launched into an explanation.