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A Murder Mystery Part OneThe school was alive with commotion as students clambered around a random history room. The teacher had found his room torn up and looked like really a hurricane had blown through three times over. Of course though, he had immediately called the only people he knew could figure out what had happened. The school's own Safety Patrol. Soon as they arrived the closed the room from the press and others of the student body. A ginger kept the always pressing press out. He glanced around and noticed at brunette walking towards the room. The ginger nodded to the other boy and let him in.
"What do we got?" the head of the Safety Patrol asked the members that were there. As soon as he was done speaking a black boy walked over with a grim face.
"Same as the last few," he stated, "Trashed with random flecks of what seems like ash. This one also as blood. The teacher, Mr. Greaser, found his room like this."
"It's a history room right?" the brunette asked. The other boy nodded. "That makes one Scienc
The room was quite, dark and empty. Lifeless. Cold and lifeless. The only movement was the shadows of the clouds reflected from the moon's light. The whole building was the same. Or thought so to be. A large shadow crashed through the small door to the room. The shadow, bleeding from wounds unknown to it, crawled towards the windows, only to have a shell of a pistol jammed into its leg. The shadow let out a screech of pain and glared over its shoulder at the shooter.
The shooter was nothing more than a human teen with dark blue hair and lighter eyes, his wild bangs, from the previous chase, wild and almost covering them. It was clear to the shadow the murderous tint the light blue eyes held for his kind. The shadow's attention was drawn to in front of him again at the sound of one of the, now broken, desks having something set on it. The shadow glared at the new being in the room. Another human teen, brown wind-blown hair and blue eyes. Eyes with the same murderous tint iced
Fillmore Saftey Patrol MembersJr. Commissioner Horatio Vallejo
Cornelius C. Fillmore
Luke Scotts (OC-ish)
Scott Milles (OC)
Margrett Rodgers (OC)
Warriors4Crowpaw flicked his tail as he watched the new tom. He could tell that he was getting on some nerves of the Clan. He apparently didn't know that they couldn't just choose a new leader just like that. He shook his head and looked at Darkfeather. The older black tom sighed and flicked his tail.
"He went out," Darkfeather mewed, "With your mom, Tinypuddle, and Otterpelt." Crowpaw nodded and looked back at the group of cats in the middle. He got to his paws and once again weaved through the group of cats. He stopped by a small gray tom with white stripes. The one cool thing about Seal Clan, that Crowpaw loved anyway, is that most of the cats here have what others would call anomalies. Crowpaw had silver eyes, Ravenpaw had a bird in flight looking patch of fur on his chest, Crowpaw's mentor, Whitestripe, had white stripes. Crowpaw nudged Whitestripe and sat down. Whitestripe let his gaze stay on Mousestar's dead body for a heartbeat before turning to Crowpaw.
"Yes?" Whitestripe asked flicki
Warriors3Warface glared at the tom and narrowed his eyes. He lashed his tail and whispered something to Lillypetal, who nodded and headed back to the group of cats. Warface turned to the tom and lashed his tail.
"If you have nothing to do then I suggest you speak it calmly," he mewed, "She has done what she can for our leader at the moment. I will not be a----." Warface was cut off by a loud screech erupted from the middle of the clearing. Warface whipped around and shoved his fellow Clan-mates out of the way. Crowpaw stretched his neck to see what's going on. He narrowed his eyes, the only thing he could see was other cats heads, he really did hate being small. Crowpaw glanced at Sunstorm and then at the new tom. He narrowed his eyes. If he didn't like the borders then why didn't he just move? Crowpaw turned his attention back to the middle of the clearing and flicked his tail. The stench that now came from it was disgusting.
"What is that smell?" Crowpaw asked reeling back in disgust.
Warriors2Crowpaw blinked and turned around to the tom. His silver eyes narrowed. Just who did this tom think he was ordering Seal Clan around, anyway?
"You are going to have to wait," a calm white tom mewed getting to his paws from the middle of the group of cats. The tom growled and lashed his tail.
"Why's that?" he snapped, his claws sliding in and out. The white tom sighed and shook his head. He rested his green gaze on the new tom.
"Because," he mewed, "Mousestar is not, at the moment, well enough for talking." Just as he finshed speaking a small calico she weaved her way around the gathered cats to the white tom. Crowpaw glanced at Sunstorm and then back to the white tom. The calico whispered something to him and he grimly nodded.
"Sunstorm," Crowpaw mewed softly so only the warrior could hear him.
"Yeah?" Sunstorm asked flicking his ear but his yellow gaze never leaving the, in his terms, outsider.
"What does Warface mean Mousestar is not well?" Crowpaw asked flicking his tail, "She was f
Warriors"Crowpaw! Crowpaw where are you!?! Your father is looking for you!" a tabby tom called padding through the dense undergrowth of Seal Clan territory. The tabby lepted under a fallen log covered by moss and other growth. He let his yellow gaze travel around the area, angling his ears towards any sound around him. He narrowed his eyes at the sound of something digging. The tabby crepted towards the sounds allowing his claws to slide out. Coming up on a hoe the tabby glanced over the side and rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked dryly watching Crowpaw. The apprentice glanced over his shoulder at the older tabby.
"Oh hey Sunstorm," Crowpaw mewed turning to the tabby, his paws dirty with mud, dirt, and water. Sunstorm shook his and eyed the black apprentice.
"Again," Sunstorm mewed, "What are you doing?" Crowpaw glanced at the hole then back at Sunstorm.
"Digging," Crowpaw mewed flicking his tail.
"Why?" Sunstorm asked jumping down next to the apprentice, "Crows are meant to fly i
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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