The ink-blue sky is curtained with gray clouds, and snow sprinkles down ever so gently. It's such a bitter cold I feel, though not from the weather.
I leaned over the body, ignoring the chilled whispers of policemen around me. I brushed the golden locks from the little girl's face. On her neck, I found the familiar writing that would lead to the killer's whereabouts:
It makes its journey without knowing
Where the beginning ends or the end begins,
Whether to start stopping or to stop starting.
I sat deep in thought trying to figure this one out, when a sudden chiming broke into my thoughts. I looked into the distance, where Big Ben struck midnight. My eyes narrowed as I stared at the mighty clock. It makes its journey without knowing…
I stood up abruptly and turned to the police. “Let’s go.”
-Rasheda
1 comments:
"The ink-blue sky is curtained with gray clouds..." I love that. Curtained. The sky. That's a beautiful comparison, I wish I had thought of that.
I would have never made the connection between the riddle and "time". The "start stopping" kind of confused me- it was a lovely phrase, but didn't fit with "time," in my opinion.
You make a few tense changes, but they're not very noticeable. The second sentence is really awkward. It's kind of reminiscent of Yoda-speak with the words all jumbled up. Perhaps, "The bitter cold I felt was not from the chilly weather," or "I felt such a bitter cold, but it was not from the weather."
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