Fourth Writing Assignment

Inspector Willard stroked his not-yet-grown beard ever so deviously. With each passing stroke of the hand he could feel the tough red bristles slide along his weathered hands. Was this the end for Madame Célestine and her copious collection of rare artifacts and oddities? There were simply too many questions and too little time for Inspector Willard to save his unrequited lover and her dangerous collection. As the hour hand struck midnight Willard closed his eyes and slept, preparing himself for the coming day’s grueling endeavors.

Willard’s sleep was cut short. Sheets of rain were thrashing upon his den’s Victorian windows, creating a howl better fit for Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Perhaps the weather was a dreaded sign of what was soon to come, a fear, a horror greater than Inspector Willard had ever encountered. The first signal of their coming was a single spot light steadily locked upon the window. This light at first was blinding, and in a strange way welcoming. It played lazily over his shoulders, creating an odd, if not comical silhouetted figure of himself upon his bookcase and ceiling. Inspector Willard new better than to move, at least until the inquisitive light passed on to judge another window of his house.

Once released from his daze, a new site appeared before the rattling window; a blockade of black stretch limos, with a single white one at the head of the herd.