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- Years
- Age 34
- London, UK
- Seen Nov 4, 2021
[font=Times new roman"]Hey guys. I have been rather bored over the past few days, so I thought I would write a Crime Thriller Story.
This first chapter isn't anything amazing, I am just setting the scene really. It is a working progress! XD
WARNING - Later on, there will be scenes of murder and sexual references!
You have been warned!
Here is it:
Chapter one
James Lawson has been awake since 5am. His four year old son had crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. James lay awake, looking up at the patterned ceiling above him. He sighed gently and looked to his left. His eyes fell on his beautiful wife and son. He was holding onto her as if his life depended on it. He smiled gently and looked at the clock, just above his wife. '6:32'. James sighed and gently lifted the covers from his body and slid out of the bed, trying to keep the heat in for his family. Standing straight and stretching, James looked out of the window, seeing the sun creeping over the houses across the road. James's wife, Laura, had positioned the bed so that when the sun did rise, the light would wake them up if the alarm didn't. He sometimes thought about the bed so only she got the sun on her face.
Walking out of the bedroom, he made his way to the kitchen downstairs. Holding onto the oak banner, he slowly and wearily made his was down the steps. It was far too early to be awake, but he couldn't do anything about it. He had to get up; he had to be in work in a few hours. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, his hand found the ball of the banister and his hand gripped it hard, his fingers turning white slightly from the pressure. He pivoted slightly as he turned in a circle fashion to his right, then letting go of the banister. Walking through the front room, he entered the kitchen within a few seconds. There was enough light from outside entering in the windows to see where he was going. The kitchen was normally a brightly lit place when it was sunny; today would be no exception. Pulling the white fridge door open, James reached in and pulled out some fresh orange juice. He slowly spun the lid off and brought it to his mouth, letting it drain into his mouth and down his throat. He always got shouted at for doing it. "It isn't hygienic" He could hear Laura saying. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. He thought, letting a slight chuckle escape from his mouth. Putting it back in the fridge and closing the door gently, he looked at the clock to the left of him. '6:41'. Sighing and running his fingers through his blond hair, he walked into the front room, just off the kitchen, and let his body fall into the leather couch.
James Lawson was a well built, six foot three inches FBI detective. Looking at him, you wouldn't think it. His blond hair was longer than the standard male cut and styled to the left. The mornings were a different story, as he suffered from "bed hair". His blue eyes were as deep as the ocean itself. His complexion was fair. It looked like he had never been in the sun, but he had. James's parents were both Irish and he had inherited their skin reaction. When in the sun light, he would burn if it was even just warm, then return white after a few days. He always cursed this, as he looked like a tomato on holidays after a few hours. Grasping the black TV remote, he pushed the 'On' button and waited for the TV to turn on. It always took a few seconds for the TV to start up as it was an energy saving TV that didn't consume electricity when it was switched off. He didn't really care, he just wanted to watch the TV. Finally, the TV screen flashed into life but only to show a new bulletin. He didn't even read what was on the screen. He flicked to the next channel; however, James was greeted with the same new bulletin. Still not taking notice of it, he flicked again, but the same happened. Squinting slightly and sitting up, James looked at the screen and saw a familiar sight, The White House; a black, bold title being displayed at the bottom of the screen.
"PRESIDENT FRASER WILLIAMS FOUND DEAD."
Chapter Two
James's mouth ran dry. His palm wet from the sweat of fear. The President of the United States had been killed. All colour drained from his face. Sitting completely still, watching the title scroll from right to left on the screen, James didn't make a sound. James swallowed hard of what remaining salver was in his mouth.
"H... How?" James stuttered, the only thing he could bring himself to say. He kept his mouth shut, for fear of being sick. His stomach was turning, it felt like he was on a rather terrifying roller coaster; one that ended in death.
Moving his thumb up the remote, he turned up the volume; it was louder than he would normally have it. He listened intently at what was being said. A gentle and unphazed female voice broke the silence in the house.
"Reports are not official as of yet, but what we do know is that the president was found dead in his bed in the early hours of this morning. We have been told by the White House officials that it appears he did not suffer and they are not treating the case as suspicious. The death has shocked the USA and the world with its unexpectedness. We will be staying with this story throughout the day..."
James didn't blink. He couldn't grasp the idea that Fraser was dead. He didn't have any health issues, he didn't have enemies. He was the perfect President. James's hand lost all feeling. The TV remote slipped through his wet palms and fell to the floor where it landed hard; the batteries flying out of the tapped up cover. It was an old remote which had been broken many times. James started to sway a little, as more of the colour drained from his face. He felt sick. Pushing himself up, he quickly walked towards the kitchen sink and placed his hands either side of it. A bead of sweat slid down his face gracefully, stopping at his chin and then falling into the sink. James vision started to turn white. His breathing speed increased. He could not control his body. His legs felt weak and useless; the sick sensation gripped his whole body and got the better of him. Throwing his face just above the sick, he started to cough and vomited. After a few seconds, he started to regain his vision and senses. His legs became responsive and supported the weight of his body once more.
Turning on the tap and cleaning the sink, he cupped his hands underneath the cascading water and let it pool for a few seconds, before bringing his cupped hands to his face and pushing it onto his white skin. His hands returned to the granite work surface to support his torso. Water droplets fell from his face and into the sink; they could have been mistaken for tears. Trying to control his breathing, he took deep breaths and let the air rush in and out of his lungs. He couldn't take his breath fast enough. Still feeling light headed, James turned towards the TV. He could see the title still scrolling on the screen. Bringing his hands up to his face, he slowly wiped the remaining water from his face.
Turning sharply, he saw his phone lighting up. He ran over to it and looked at the screen. Jane Tarr. It was his partner and friend from work. His thumb shook over the answer button for a few seconds then he pressed down hard. Lifting it to his right ear, he let out a feeble greeting.
"Hello?"
"HELLO? It's about time you answered your phone Jay." A slight British accented woman spoke with an angry tone of voice.
"I have been trying to reach you since 5am. What have you been doing?"
"I have been asleep. Have you heard?" James leaned against the work surface and kept one eye on the TV for more information.
"Of course I have heard. The whole bloody world has heard. People in Africa who don't have Televisions have heard. You are the last bloody soul on this planet to hear about the biggest death for the past 40 years."
"Ok. I get the picture."
"Good." The sounds of a sigh pushed through the phone and into James's ear. She didn't say anything for a few seconds. James could hear the TV on loud on her end. The speech that he had just heard was being repeated. He felt sick again. The British voice broke the silence.
"I am at the office. You better get down here, it is crazy. Everyone is running around trying to find out what is exactly going on. Who thought the death of one man could cause to much havoc."
"That man was the President of the United States Jane!" James grew angry towards her and his voice raised.
"He was a great man and not for one second do I believe that he died of natural causes." His grip tightened on the phone, he could hear the plastic tightening as his hand mercifully engulfed it.
"Ok ok, I know. I am sorry."
James sighed and nodded, even though she wasn't there and couldn't see it. He wasn't thinking clearly, he didn't think much of it. Looking at the clock in the kitchen, he sighed. '7:03'.
Mustering up the energy to speak again, he sighed.
"I will be in at 8. I need to talk to Laura first." How could he tell her that he had to work on his days off, she wouldn't be happy, but this was different.
"Ok Jay. Give her my love."
The phone call dropped and James's hand fell from his ear to his side. He turned around and placed the phone on the work surface gently. Letting out another large sigh, he turned and looked at the TV, checking if they had heard anymore; nothing.
Pushing himself upright, he walked from the kitchen and back towards the stairs, his hands, once again, meeting the Oak banister. James pulled himself up the stairs and onto the landing. His son, Chris, was still asleep in their room. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He slowly and gently walked into the room where his family slept. Looking out of the window, the sun has started to invade the bed sheets; slowly creeping up to defeat sleep from Laura's state of mind. Sitting on the edge of the bed, James placed his hand on Laura's shoulder and gently shook it, waking her up eventually.
"Laura." He whispered. "Laura, you need to wake up. I have to go work." His eyes looked down onto his beautiful wife. Her hair was black with subtle red streaks; they had started to fade as she had them coloured over a few months ago. Laura slowly opened her eyes and her brown, hazelnut eyes locked onto his.
"Wh... What is wrong now?" She said in a groggy voice. "Are they so incompetent that they can't deal without you for a week?" She sat up slightly and looked to her left. Chris was still asleep; he had curled up into a small ball and was where James use to be. She looked back with a smile on her face and her eyes stopped at James. Her smile faded when she saw he was still white.
"James. What is wrong?"
James's gaze fell to the bed sheets as his head dropped. It was hard for him to explain what was happening.
"Fraser Williams was found dead a few hours ago."
It took a few seconds for it to register with Laura what he had just told her.
"Wh... What? How?"
"I don't know. They said he just died in his sleep, apparently. They are not treating the case as murder, just natural causes." James's voice started to raise in volume as he spoke, but remembered Chris was still sleeping, lowering his voice to a whisper, he looked back into Laura's eyes.
"Why wouldn't it be natural causes?" Laura placed her hand on the side of his face and gently caressed his cheek with her thumb. He closed his eyes at her touch; she could always calm him down.
"It just doesn't sit right with me. Something doesn't fit."
"Honey, you know more than anyone that people just die. Their hearts can give in. You have been on countless cases where you can't explain the cause of death. Why is this so different? I know he was the President, but he was human." Her voice was a gentle whisper. She moved her hand to his neck and kissed James's lips gently. She pulled away and looked at him.
"I know you are upset. But these things can happen."
James nodded slightly after a few seconds and sighed.
"I need to go into work. I would love to stay at home with you two, but they need me at work."
"I understand." Laura said with an understanding tone. She smiled and kissed him again. She held the kiss and James ran his fingers through her hair. Prolonging the kiss, he pulled away and smiled, his forehead resting against hers.
"You are perfect you know that." James said with a calmer voice.
"I know." Laura said laughing gently and pushing him up. "Now go to work and pay your respects to your friend."
James nodded and walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and closing the door.
[/font]
This first chapter isn't anything amazing, I am just setting the scene really. It is a working progress! XD
WARNING - Later on, there will be scenes of murder and sexual references!
You have been warned!
Here is it:
Through The Lens
Chapter one
James Lawson has been awake since 5am. His four year old son had crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. James lay awake, looking up at the patterned ceiling above him. He sighed gently and looked to his left. His eyes fell on his beautiful wife and son. He was holding onto her as if his life depended on it. He smiled gently and looked at the clock, just above his wife. '6:32'. James sighed and gently lifted the covers from his body and slid out of the bed, trying to keep the heat in for his family. Standing straight and stretching, James looked out of the window, seeing the sun creeping over the houses across the road. James's wife, Laura, had positioned the bed so that when the sun did rise, the light would wake them up if the alarm didn't. He sometimes thought about the bed so only she got the sun on her face.
Walking out of the bedroom, he made his way to the kitchen downstairs. Holding onto the oak banner, he slowly and wearily made his was down the steps. It was far too early to be awake, but he couldn't do anything about it. He had to get up; he had to be in work in a few hours. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, his hand found the ball of the banister and his hand gripped it hard, his fingers turning white slightly from the pressure. He pivoted slightly as he turned in a circle fashion to his right, then letting go of the banister. Walking through the front room, he entered the kitchen within a few seconds. There was enough light from outside entering in the windows to see where he was going. The kitchen was normally a brightly lit place when it was sunny; today would be no exception. Pulling the white fridge door open, James reached in and pulled out some fresh orange juice. He slowly spun the lid off and brought it to his mouth, letting it drain into his mouth and down his throat. He always got shouted at for doing it. "It isn't hygienic" He could hear Laura saying. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. He thought, letting a slight chuckle escape from his mouth. Putting it back in the fridge and closing the door gently, he looked at the clock to the left of him. '6:41'. Sighing and running his fingers through his blond hair, he walked into the front room, just off the kitchen, and let his body fall into the leather couch.
James Lawson was a well built, six foot three inches FBI detective. Looking at him, you wouldn't think it. His blond hair was longer than the standard male cut and styled to the left. The mornings were a different story, as he suffered from "bed hair". His blue eyes were as deep as the ocean itself. His complexion was fair. It looked like he had never been in the sun, but he had. James's parents were both Irish and he had inherited their skin reaction. When in the sun light, he would burn if it was even just warm, then return white after a few days. He always cursed this, as he looked like a tomato on holidays after a few hours. Grasping the black TV remote, he pushed the 'On' button and waited for the TV to turn on. It always took a few seconds for the TV to start up as it was an energy saving TV that didn't consume electricity when it was switched off. He didn't really care, he just wanted to watch the TV. Finally, the TV screen flashed into life but only to show a new bulletin. He didn't even read what was on the screen. He flicked to the next channel; however, James was greeted with the same new bulletin. Still not taking notice of it, he flicked again, but the same happened. Squinting slightly and sitting up, James looked at the screen and saw a familiar sight, The White House; a black, bold title being displayed at the bottom of the screen.
"PRESIDENT FRASER WILLIAMS FOUND DEAD."
Chapter Two
James's mouth ran dry. His palm wet from the sweat of fear. The President of the United States had been killed. All colour drained from his face. Sitting completely still, watching the title scroll from right to left on the screen, James didn't make a sound. James swallowed hard of what remaining salver was in his mouth.
"H... How?" James stuttered, the only thing he could bring himself to say. He kept his mouth shut, for fear of being sick. His stomach was turning, it felt like he was on a rather terrifying roller coaster; one that ended in death.
Moving his thumb up the remote, he turned up the volume; it was louder than he would normally have it. He listened intently at what was being said. A gentle and unphazed female voice broke the silence in the house.
"Reports are not official as of yet, but what we do know is that the president was found dead in his bed in the early hours of this morning. We have been told by the White House officials that it appears he did not suffer and they are not treating the case as suspicious. The death has shocked the USA and the world with its unexpectedness. We will be staying with this story throughout the day..."
James didn't blink. He couldn't grasp the idea that Fraser was dead. He didn't have any health issues, he didn't have enemies. He was the perfect President. James's hand lost all feeling. The TV remote slipped through his wet palms and fell to the floor where it landed hard; the batteries flying out of the tapped up cover. It was an old remote which had been broken many times. James started to sway a little, as more of the colour drained from his face. He felt sick. Pushing himself up, he quickly walked towards the kitchen sink and placed his hands either side of it. A bead of sweat slid down his face gracefully, stopping at his chin and then falling into the sink. James vision started to turn white. His breathing speed increased. He could not control his body. His legs felt weak and useless; the sick sensation gripped his whole body and got the better of him. Throwing his face just above the sick, he started to cough and vomited. After a few seconds, he started to regain his vision and senses. His legs became responsive and supported the weight of his body once more.
Turning on the tap and cleaning the sink, he cupped his hands underneath the cascading water and let it pool for a few seconds, before bringing his cupped hands to his face and pushing it onto his white skin. His hands returned to the granite work surface to support his torso. Water droplets fell from his face and into the sink; they could have been mistaken for tears. Trying to control his breathing, he took deep breaths and let the air rush in and out of his lungs. He couldn't take his breath fast enough. Still feeling light headed, James turned towards the TV. He could see the title still scrolling on the screen. Bringing his hands up to his face, he slowly wiped the remaining water from his face.
Turning sharply, he saw his phone lighting up. He ran over to it and looked at the screen. Jane Tarr. It was his partner and friend from work. His thumb shook over the answer button for a few seconds then he pressed down hard. Lifting it to his right ear, he let out a feeble greeting.
"Hello?"
"HELLO? It's about time you answered your phone Jay." A slight British accented woman spoke with an angry tone of voice.
"I have been trying to reach you since 5am. What have you been doing?"
"I have been asleep. Have you heard?" James leaned against the work surface and kept one eye on the TV for more information.
"Of course I have heard. The whole bloody world has heard. People in Africa who don't have Televisions have heard. You are the last bloody soul on this planet to hear about the biggest death for the past 40 years."
"Ok. I get the picture."
"Good." The sounds of a sigh pushed through the phone and into James's ear. She didn't say anything for a few seconds. James could hear the TV on loud on her end. The speech that he had just heard was being repeated. He felt sick again. The British voice broke the silence.
"I am at the office. You better get down here, it is crazy. Everyone is running around trying to find out what is exactly going on. Who thought the death of one man could cause to much havoc."
"That man was the President of the United States Jane!" James grew angry towards her and his voice raised.
"He was a great man and not for one second do I believe that he died of natural causes." His grip tightened on the phone, he could hear the plastic tightening as his hand mercifully engulfed it.
"Ok ok, I know. I am sorry."
James sighed and nodded, even though she wasn't there and couldn't see it. He wasn't thinking clearly, he didn't think much of it. Looking at the clock in the kitchen, he sighed. '7:03'.
Mustering up the energy to speak again, he sighed.
"I will be in at 8. I need to talk to Laura first." How could he tell her that he had to work on his days off, she wouldn't be happy, but this was different.
"Ok Jay. Give her my love."
The phone call dropped and James's hand fell from his ear to his side. He turned around and placed the phone on the work surface gently. Letting out another large sigh, he turned and looked at the TV, checking if they had heard anymore; nothing.
Pushing himself upright, he walked from the kitchen and back towards the stairs, his hands, once again, meeting the Oak banister. James pulled himself up the stairs and onto the landing. His son, Chris, was still asleep in their room. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He slowly and gently walked into the room where his family slept. Looking out of the window, the sun has started to invade the bed sheets; slowly creeping up to defeat sleep from Laura's state of mind. Sitting on the edge of the bed, James placed his hand on Laura's shoulder and gently shook it, waking her up eventually.
"Laura." He whispered. "Laura, you need to wake up. I have to go work." His eyes looked down onto his beautiful wife. Her hair was black with subtle red streaks; they had started to fade as she had them coloured over a few months ago. Laura slowly opened her eyes and her brown, hazelnut eyes locked onto his.
"Wh... What is wrong now?" She said in a groggy voice. "Are they so incompetent that they can't deal without you for a week?" She sat up slightly and looked to her left. Chris was still asleep; he had curled up into a small ball and was where James use to be. She looked back with a smile on her face and her eyes stopped at James. Her smile faded when she saw he was still white.
"James. What is wrong?"
James's gaze fell to the bed sheets as his head dropped. It was hard for him to explain what was happening.
"Fraser Williams was found dead a few hours ago."
It took a few seconds for it to register with Laura what he had just told her.
"Wh... What? How?"
"I don't know. They said he just died in his sleep, apparently. They are not treating the case as murder, just natural causes." James's voice started to raise in volume as he spoke, but remembered Chris was still sleeping, lowering his voice to a whisper, he looked back into Laura's eyes.
"Why wouldn't it be natural causes?" Laura placed her hand on the side of his face and gently caressed his cheek with her thumb. He closed his eyes at her touch; she could always calm him down.
"It just doesn't sit right with me. Something doesn't fit."
"Honey, you know more than anyone that people just die. Their hearts can give in. You have been on countless cases where you can't explain the cause of death. Why is this so different? I know he was the President, but he was human." Her voice was a gentle whisper. She moved her hand to his neck and kissed James's lips gently. She pulled away and looked at him.
"I know you are upset. But these things can happen."
James nodded slightly after a few seconds and sighed.
"I need to go into work. I would love to stay at home with you two, but they need me at work."
"I understand." Laura said with an understanding tone. She smiled and kissed him again. She held the kiss and James ran his fingers through her hair. Prolonging the kiss, he pulled away and smiled, his forehead resting against hers.
"You are perfect you know that." James said with a calmer voice.
"I know." Laura said laughing gently and pushing him up. "Now go to work and pay your respects to your friend."
James nodded and walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and closing the door.
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