Friday the 13th
It started that night. Inside the heart of the city of London, where an inexplicable rumor was born, at the most moonless area on Baker Street, was a castle whose name was carved in old wood. It was affixed between two rusted iron poles at the front of the castle. The wood board read The Castle of Dr McConnel. On that night, as the tremendous thunder and lightning struck down on the spires, a traumatic and head-splitting shriek echoed out from the castle. It stopped. Suddenly, at the most incredible speed, lights went out consecutively on both sides of the street, and immediately, people dashed out from their residences.
“What on Earth was that?” said a gentleman in the crowd. “I don’t know, but that shriek freaked me out.” replied another gentlemen standing nearby.
“AAAARRRRHHHH!!!” A fearful scream suddenly pierced the night. It definitely caught everyone’s attention. The crowd rapidly moved towards the scream. Then, in a second, the sound of flurrying feet instantaneously ceased. All the faces froze and all eyes looked towards the anterior of the castle. The lightning struck once more. Under its luminosity could be seen a blond female holding her decapitated head in her hands. The time was 12 o’clock midnight. The day was Friday the 13th.
It happened last year. A year which was inundated with many different traumatic cases: the death of the Queen, two hundred people dying on a plane crash, a flooding caused wide spread damage. Robbery had never been so popular, and of course, the event that could make you talk all day long about it until your mandible could break apart , or it could even make you feel a plethora of aches on your body as you walked past the place, where it happened. Friday the 13th was the most influential and controversial event that ever happened in the history of London. When you walked outside on the road, the only thing that you would definitely hear from the conversations of people was the atrocious murder...