Event+3

Leila Faulstich-Hon 1st Draft As the clock struck 12:15, the news spread like an epidemic through the factory, traveling through mazes of whispers and cries and tears and then coming to rest in the ears of our very own Charlie Burkes. Mildred was dead. There were rumors of how it happened, of course, but none seemed likely. Had Mildred “walked” into a knife as some claimed? Tripped over the cord of the meat grinder, fallen perilously into an unwanted death and made into the meat for tomorrow’s lunch? Had a bloody, violent heart attack resulted in the death? But none of those theories explained just why she was found with an array of gnawing marks running down her forearms and pants. Why blood was spouting out like a fountain from her open mouth. Why her eyes were rolled back to show milky white pupils and why her face was contorted into an expression of the purest fear. A scream caught in the back of her throat. A cry strangled by her death. And then nothing, nothing at all. And why, why, the second before her last breath was taken, why did her nose quiver just a wee bit, like a little mouse?

Second Draft-leila

As As the clock struck 12:03, the news spread like an epidemic through the factory, traveling through mazes of whispers and cries and tears and then coming to rest in the ears of our very own Charlie Burkes. Mildred was dead. There were rumors of how it happened, of course, but none seemed likely. Had Mildred “walked” into a knife as some claimed? Tripped over the cord of the meat grinder, fallen perilously into an unwanted death and made into the meat for tomorrow’s lunch? Had a bloody, violent heart attack resulted in the death? But none of those theories explained just why she was found with an array of gnawing marks running down her forearms and pants. Why blood was spouting out like a fountain from her open mouth. Why her eyes were rolled back to show milky white pupils and why her face was contorted into an expression of the purest fear. A scream caught in the back of her throat. A cry strangled by her death. And then nothing, nothing at all. And why, why, the second before her last breath was taken, why did her nose quiver just a wee bit, like a little mouse? The whole affair was actually a quite ironic affair. It was ironic that Charlie was thinking about rats right before the news pierced the air. It was ironic that it was Star Rellick who was the first to “stumble” upon the dead corpse of Mildred J. Beckon at exactly 2:03 pm. Star Rellick was the first to cry out and to launch into a spasm of tears and snot; the first to deliver the news; the first to be comforted and patted down; the first to be given soothing words by nearly all the factory men. And it was extremely ironic, that Tom Burkes, the last person who would ever talk to Mildred J. Beckon, was chewing his fingers nervously and darting his eyes around like little bumblebees at the scene of the crime. Ironic that he seemed scared, no, terrified. And ironic that little red specks were flicked across the back of his hand. Specks that could maybe, almost, possibly be blood…

Third Draft:

Just before 12:03 am, the scream pierced the air like a dagger, shattering the aura of silence that had slowly engulfed the factory since the fight that morning. Charlie Burkes was the first to arrive at the epicenter of the scream; the first to see his love, Star Rellick sobbing in a corner; the first to spot Mildred J Beckons’ bloody corpse sprawled across the floor and the first of many to say,” Bloody hell.” At 12:20 the entire factory crowded around Mildred J Beckons’ corpse. She died at age 42, a widow, and hopelessly in love with Charlie. No one understood why. Shaking workers, who probably thought the world was coming to an end a little earlier than planned, generated many rumors, of which none seemed the least bit likely. Had Mildred “walked” into a knife as some claimed? Tripped over the cord of the meat grinder, fallen perilously to her death, and made into the meat for tomorrow’s lunch? Or had a violent, bloody heart attack resulted in her death? But none of these rumors explained just why there was an array of gnawing marks running up her forearms and pants. Why blood spouted from her mouth like an open faucet. Why her face was contorted into a scream of the purest fear. And just why, why, the minute before she died, why did her nose quiver a tiny bit like a mouse? “Hey Tom,” a man who worked in line with Charlie screamed. “I heard you don’t fancy Mildred cause she marks you late. Maybe you wanted revenge!” “Ya Tom” agreed another worker, “You don’t fancy her one bit an’ now look she’s dead.” “It was probably you” chimed in another. “I would never do tha-“ Tom started but was cut off with a very pretty voice saying,” You disappeared after check in. We haven’t seen you since?” Everyone turned to look at Star Rellick in surprise. “Hey, maybe she ain’t so wrong” “Its true!” “I swear I di’nt see him after check in!” “Its true! Its true!” “Guys! Please! I di’nt do it. I swear. I promise,” screamed Tom, as the workers drew closer, pointing accusing fingers at his throat. Tom glanced wildly around for help, but no help came. Star Rellick smiled. “It was Tom.” She muttered, glancing at her manicured, long nails. “Of course it was.” And then the factory workers were upon him, shouting insults in his face. “Barmey, you arsehole!” “Beaslty man!” “Blimey Tom, di’nt know you had it in you!” “I swear it wasn’t me you arseholes!” Tom screamed, pushing through the crowd. “I swear, I swear, I swear!” The doors banged shut and Tom disappeared, leaving a smiling Star in his wake. No one knew the truth. No one knew anything anymore.

4th Draft- leila As theAS c\k s As the clock struck 12:15, the news spread like an epidemic through the factory, traveling through mazes of whispers and cries and tears and then coming to rest in the ears of our very own Charlie Burkes. Mildred was dead. There were rumors of how it happened, of course, but none seemed likely. Had Mildred “walked” into a knife as some claimed? Tripped over the cord of the meat grinder, fallen perilously into an unwanted death and made into the meat for tomorrow’s lunch? Had a bloody, violent heart attack resulted in the death? But none of those theories explained just why she was found with an array of gnawing marks running down her forearms and pants. Why blood was spouting out like a fountain from her open mouth. Why her eyes were rolled back to show milky white pupils and why her face was contorted into an expression of the purest fear. A scream caught in the back of her throat. A cry strangled by her death. And then nothing, nothing at all. And why, why, the second before her last breath was taken, why did her nose quiver just a wee bit, like a little mouse? Charlie rushed to the scene of the crime, just in time to find a Star Rellick sitting silently in the corner, propped up against the industrial walls, staring. Mildred was sprawled across the floor, leaking rivers of crimson liquid, which flowed out of her body like an open faucet. Gushing. Gushing. Charlie Burkes opened his mouth and screamed. At 12:30, the entire factory gathered around Mildred J. Beckon’s corpse and stood in an ominous silence, murmuring to each other. “She wasn’t even 30 years.” “Mad world we live in. Mad.” “Who could’a done’ it?” At 12:35, people began the accusations. They needed someone to blame. “It had to be Joe.” “No, it was Bill.” “Liar! It was you!” Tom was being quiet. Too quiet. “’Ey Tom!” a worker screamed, “You ain’t said anything. Nervous. Maybe you done it!” “Ya!” chimed in another, “You seem real nervous” “AND I heard you had fight this mornin’ with her,” the worker signaled to Mildred's corpse with his hand, not wanting to meet it with his eyes. “I DID NOT murder Mildred! I would never bloody murder anyon-“ Tom started. But was interrupted by a very pretty voice saying, ”We haven’t seen you since this morning.” Everyone turned to look at Star Rellick in surprise. “Hey she’s right.” “I swear I di’nt see him after check-in!” “Its true! Its true!” “I di’int do it! I swear! I promise! Please!” Tom screamed. The factory workers advanced, spitting insults. Star Rellick smiled. “STOP IT! Stop it all ye’ blokes! I was with Tom since the mornin’. He couldn’t have done it.” Charlie Burkes stood in the middle of the crowd holding his hand up high. Tom sent him a quick, grateful grin and then scampered out of the room, leaving the doors swinging behind him. The factory workers reluctantly left their accusations at Tom hanging dead in midair. But now a new question had aroused for them. If Tom didn’t kill Mildred, who did? And then in half panic they realized that the murderer was still somewhere in the factory. Not caught. Not convicted. And the truth that they all wondered about as Mildred J. Beckon’s corpse was shoved into a plastic bag and taken out to the dumpster by the alleyway was, “Who would be the next victim?

Leila-Draft 5

As the clock struck 12:15, the news spread like an epidemic through the factory, traveling through mazes of whispers and cries and tears and then coming to rest in the ears of our very own Charlie Burkes. Mildred was dead. There were rumors of how it happened of course, but none seemed likely. Charlie wondered if Mildred had “walked” into a knife as some claimed? Tripped over the cord of the meat grinder, fallen perilously into an unwanted death and cut up like a piece of mutton? Had a bloody, violent heart attack resulted in the death? But none of those theories seemed just right, for Charlie heard that Mildred was found with an array of gnawing marks running down her forearms and pants. That blood spouted from her open mouth like a fountain. That her eyes were rolled back to reveal milky, white pupils and that her face was contorted into an expression of the purest fear. A scream caught in the back of her throat. A cry strangled by her death. And then nothing, nothing at all. At 12:25, Charlie rushed to the scene of the crime just in time to find Star Rellick sitting silently in the corner, propped up against the industrial walls, staring. A few shaking factory workers circled Mildred J. Beckon’s body. Charlie peered over their heads. The corpse was sprawled across the floor, leaking rivers of crimson liquid, which flowed out of her body like an open faucet. Gushing. Charlie Burkes opened his mouth and screamed. At 12:30, the entire factory gathered around Mildred J. Beckon’s corpse and stood in an ominous silence, murmuring to each other. “She wasn’t even 30 years.” “Mad world we live in. Mad.” “Who could’a done’ it?” At 12:35, people began the accusations. They needed someone to blame. “It had to be Joe.” “You look migh’ty supicious.” “Liar! It was you!” Tom was being quiet. Too quiet. “’Ey Tom!” a worker screamed, “You ain’t said anything. Nervous? Maybe you done it!” “Ya!” chimed in another, “You seem real nervous” “AND I heard you had fight this mornin’ with her” another worker shouted, signaling with his hand to the corpse, not wanting to meet it with his eyes. “I DID NOT murder Mildred! I would never bloody murder anyon-“ Tom started. But was interrupted by a very pretty voice saying, ”We ‘aven’t seen you since this morning.” Everyone turned to look at Star Rellick in surprise. “Hey she’s right.” “I swear I di’nt see him after check-in!” “Its true! Its true!” “I di’int do it! I swea’! I promise! Please!” Tom screamed. The factory workers advanced, spitting insults. Star Rellick smiled. “STOP IT! Stop it all ye’ blokes! I was with Tom since the mornin’. He couldn’t have done it.” Charlie Burkes stood in the middle of the crowd holding his hand up high. Tom sent him a quick, grateful grin and rapidly scampered out the room, leaving the doors swinging behind him. The factory workers reluctantly left their accusations hanging dead in midair. But now a new question had evoked for them. If Tom didn’t kill Mildred, who did? And then in half panic they realized that the murderer was still somewhere in the factory. Not caught. Not convicted. And the truth that they all wondered about as Mildred J. Beckon’s corpse was taken out to the dumpster by the alleyway was, “Who would be the next victim?

Draft 6- As the clock struck 12:15, the news spread like an epidemic through the factory, traveling through mazes of whispers and cries and tears and then coming to rest in the ears of our very own Charlie Burkes. Mildred was dead. There were rumors of how it happened of course, but none seemed likely. Charlie wondered if Mildred had been stabbed various times with a butcher knife as some claimed? Had she gone to take out the garbage and gruesomely attacked by a rabid dog? Had someone attacked her with long bloody nails, scratching at her body over and over? But none of those theories seemed just right, for Charlie heard that Mildred was found with an array of gnawing marks running down her forearms and pants. That blood spouted from her open mouth like a fountain. That her eyes were rolled back to reveal milky, white pupils and that her face was contorted into an expression of the purest fear. A scream caught in the back of her throat. A cry strangled by her death. At 12:25, Charlie rushed to the scene of the crime just in time to find Star Rellick sitting silently in the corner, propped up against the industrial walls, staring. A few shaking factory workers circled Mildred J. Beckon’s body. Charlie peered over their heads. The corpse was sprawled across the floor, leaking rivers of crimson liquid, which flowed out of her body like an open faucet. Gushing. Charlie Burkes opened his mouth and screamed. At 12:30, the entire factory gathered around Mildred J. Beckon’s corpse and stood in an ominous silence, murmuring to each other. “She wasn’t even 30 years.” “Mad world we live in. Mad.” “Who could’a done’ it?” At 12:35, people began getting suspicious of each other. No one was to be trusted. “’Ey Joe. We di’nt see you at the check in hall. Maybe you were comin’ up with mu’der plan!” “Blimey Ed! You’re a Lia’! You we’re the one gone during check in. It was probably you!” “But wha’ abou’ Gordon who doesn’t fancy Mildred at all! He probably done’ it.” “Tom had a fight with her this mornin’” a pretty voice whispered. Everyone turned to look at Star Rellick in surprise. “’Ey shes righ’! I heard abou’ that!” “Its true, its true!” “Good reason to kill, ‘ey Tom?” A worker questioned with a sly grin. “I DID NOT murder Mildred! I would never bloody murder anyon-“ Tom started. But was interrupted by the same pretty voice saying, ”We ‘aven’t seen you since this morning.” “Hey she’s right.” “I swear I di’nt see him after check-in!” “I di’int do it! I swea’! I promise! Please!” Tom screamed. The factory workers advanced, spitting insults. Star Rellick smiled. “STOP IT! Stop it all ye’ blokes! I was with Tom since the mornin’. He couldn’t have done it.” Charlie Burkes stood in the middle of the crowd holding his hand up high. Tom sent him a quick, grateful grin and rapidly scampered out the room, leaving the doors swinging behind him. The factory workers reluctantly left their accusations hanging dead in midair. But now a new question had evoked for them. If Tom didn’t kill Mildred, who did? And then in half panic they realized that the murderer was still somewhere in the factory. Not caught. Not convicted. And the truth that they all