STORY STARTER

The After Party.

Write a story that begins just after a big party has finished.

The After Party

The smell of vomit inches up my nose as the partygoers mill around in my house.

The party ended almost two hours ago, but nobody’s left.

Milly leaves the small utility room looking shaken, she glances in my direction and gives me a pained smile, just as a policeman gestures for me to follow him.

I trail after him, stepping over a puddle of sick, into the same room Milly just left.

I sit down on an upturned basket, each hand caressing the other. My heartbeats are fast and loud, the erratic beats doing nothing to ease my anxiety.

“This was your party?” The policeman asks, with a sympathy that surprises me.

I glance up at him, “Yeah,” the words come out as a whisper.

“Your parents know ‘bout it?” his eyes meet mine.

“They were both on a work trip.” I break eye contact and look at my shoes, “Do you think we have to tell them?”

He sighs, and looks at the tumble dryer, “This just isn’t something that can be hidden.” His sincerity is disarming.

I look up, he can’t be much older than I am, 5 years age difference. Max. He’s a handsome guy. Defined jawline, fluffy brown hair, pretty brown eyebrows rest above pretty green eyes. Yes, handsome guy.

“We need a list of everybody who came here. Right now, they’re all suspects.” The trance is broken.

“I invited a few people I know, but it spiralled out of control, there’s a lot of people who I only recognise by face. A few people I’ve never seen.” I try to meet his eyes, but they remain firmly on the wall behind me. His eyes flick down to mine, before flitting away. He licks his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat.

I lean forward and stroke his knee. He looks down, shocked, but doesnt stop it. I get a little braver, scooting my hand up his thigh.

He takes my hand and I lead him into the cold night air.

I drag him to the side of the house, where nobody will see us. I press my lips against his, putting my arms around his neck. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, just stands there. Until I feel him push against me, push me away.

“No, Jesus, what am I doing? I shouldn’t do this somebody was murdered, don’t you understand? Somebody was killed inside your house,” he looks me in the eyes, “This is my first case and instead of solving it I’m here with one of our suspects. Do you not understand how stressed I am?” His chest is heaving, he’s just venting now. “I need to get back in there,” he turns away and leans against the wall, closing his eyes.

That’s a shame.

I was hoping to have some fun before I realised I was missing my soul.

I reach my hands to his neck slowly. He turns around to face me, just as I reach for his throat.

In one practised move his neck is snapped.

His body crumples to the ground.

The after party, I realise, is just getting started…

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