April 14th

A/N: Ummm, decide yourselves what this is about, i wrote it in my creative writing class. I then thought it sounded a bit like Gil's thoughts... hope you like...

The crime scene was a familiar one, the run down house with the paint falling away at the brick work, the wood in the door frame rotten so it was easy to kick in. But I needn't to go in yet. I wanted to grasp the life of the victim. Their obvious passion for gardening as the garden was a sight batter then the house. A fairy with a lowered head stood shyly in the garden I saw it as I walk off the garden path. Along with a picnic table there was a rusted key. I better bag it and find out what door it opens. There was a shoddy, poor excuse at a garage or porch or whatever it was. Its floor was covered in the fallen paint I saw earlier; there was an upright wooden chair and sets of shoes orded in size. I got out of there and used the back door – with the door key I spotted earlier while gazing at the fairy statue.

I was about to go in but I stopped and that's when I saw the shattered glass window. Its frame was stone. Glass hung desperately to the window frame only segments was left intact. Once inside I saw that there was outside too. Shrubs met my eye line. It must've grown from in-between the brick work. Thank God it was day time as I may've walked into it and had an unwelcomed eight legged visitor on my legs. There was no furniture in the room only assorted tea pots in the bay window ledge once again ordered in size. Beside the window there was a bookshelf. Nearly falling apart and over. Each book was bound in its casing. Each one neatly ties with a ribbon. This floor was peculiar. I eyed up the wooden staircase. The wallpaper on the adjacent wall was tearing off. I didn't want to climb the stairs into another floor of this madness. But I had to.

Please R&R.

Rosie phoenix.