By Aravind.J.T, 10 A

The man’s burly frame shuddered in delight. The smell of roast beef always seemed to excite his stomach. But no, he could not linger. He was on duty. Tearing himself away from the tantalizing warmth and aroma that was at the entrance to the pub, he continued on his mind-numbing patrol. Being a policeman can get terribly boring sometimes. Behind him, thunder boomed, lightning cracked, and the clouds swirled. They exuded menace, as the skies prepared to open up, and unleash their heavenly deluge. Brighton felt that something different would happen today, but then again, he was always telling himself that.

As he plodded along the streets of Whitechapel, his gaze turned towards the sky. It looked like he was going to be in for a rough night. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, obscuring his vision, and flattening him to the pavement. His first distinct thought was “This isn’t rain. It’s a bit too hard. And squishy.” His second thought was what would, and should be, any rational person’s first. “What?”

He heaved himself out from under the object, and turned around to get a good look at it. His lower jaw then promptly decided to unhinge itself, and go for a walk. Looking very much like a fish out of water, Brighton spoke out loud to calm himself. “This person has very distinctly been stabbed in the head.” He then went on to say, “I wonder how he died.”

Now, despite what his name may suggest, Brighton, was not very bright. He was in fact, quite below average, having barely made it out of high school. The only reason he decided to become a police officer, was because it did not require a high level of intellect. This is true. However, a little bit of common sense is sometimes needed, and this Brighton appeared to be severely lacking as well. He had also joined the police force because he had always hoped that something exciting would happen to him. Now that it was happening, he had absolutely no clue what to do about it.

The street did not seem as deserted as it once did. Brighton began to see threatening shadows everywhere. So, it can be understood why, when an old man walked up to him, he absolutely jumped out of his skin.

This old man looked like he had just gotten out of bed, since he wore a dress that strongly resembled a nightgown. His face wore a kindly smile, and he seemed to convey a feeling of wisdom. “What seems to be the trouble, young man? Kneeling on the floor will catch you a chill in this weather.”

“Sir, there is a dead body right here. Since I am a police officer, I am designating this area, a crime scene,” replied Brighton, somehow coming to his senses enough, to begin the procedure. Brighton had not, until this point, checked whether the man was actually dead, which is where the common sense, mentioned earlier, should have come in.

The old man then said, “Yes, I know. I did it.”

This is not a comment that anyone could really expect, an admission to murder right in the street. However, Brighton was now receiving it. At this moment, there was a rather large robbery going on two houses down from the both of them. This was a huge thief that had been plaguing London for almost three weeks now. This was a perfect opportunity, but since the police was otherwise occupied, the thief walked away, and was never caught.

“What do you mean, you did it?” Brighton, shocked, questioned him.

“I killed him. Do you like it? Quite realistic, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean realistic? It’s a dead body!”

“Oh no, my dear sir”- and this was where it was revealed to Brighton what he had done wrong- “This is my mannequin. I’m a magician.”

“Oh. I see. That is unusual indeed. Well, good day to you sir, you can have your doll back. Sorry about this.”

“Are you alright young man? Your cheeks are turning quite red. Perhaps, you would be feeling a little bit of a chill?”

Brighton turned and walked off speedily. “Oh no sir, I’m quite fine.” He continued on his patrol, but this time hoping that nothing else would happen tonight.