Who? - Original Writing :: Papers

Who? - Original Writing It seemed like an ordinary night. The soft whine of the wind echoed throughout the vast hall. The lifeless portraits, on the walls, stared gloomily at the centre of the room looking for movement. The distant moon shone down through the skylight flooding the smooth marble floor with moonlight. Suddenly a â€Å"click† popped out of the darkness, and then the old rusted basement door creaked open. A tall man stood in the doorway; he wore worn blue jeans and a brown leather jacket which had faded with age. He had short jet-black hair and small green eagle like eyes. In his right hand he held a newspaper, the headline read â€Å"Baffling Bodies in Bristol,† in his left he held a radio. He slowly scanned across before he eventually entered. A voice suddenly escaped from the radio and echoed off the walls â€Å"Hello, Trevor did you find it then?† Trevor held the radio up to his mouth and whispered â€Å"No, you must have left it somewhere else.† He continued to make his way across the room, â€Å"Okay, thanks for looking anyway,† came the reply. Trevor placed the chunky radio into his back pocket and headed toward a door labelled â€Å"Security.† Suddenly there was a great â€Å"BOOM,† from outside. Trevor jumped out of his skin. His heart was pounding like a drum. He leant against the wall and took a deep breath. â€Å"Calm down it’s only a bit of thunder,† he muttered to himself â€Å"get you together.† He took another deep breath and then exited through the nearby door. The security room was very dimly lit. Two rusted lockers stood against the faded brown wall next to an old office. A pile of small monitors sat on the desk next to a miniature black lamp. Trevor sat down on one of the wooden chairs next the desk; he placed the newspaper and radio on its scratched surface. He then took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jacket pocket. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit the end; he inhaled then blew a poisonous cloud of smoke