Storybird Summer Writing Club Mystery
Part One- The Cliffhanger
If our town was any older, and any more historic, it would currently be in ruins. People think our town is a place where technology does not exist, that the only cameras here are Polariods. But if they bothered to look around a little bit, they would realize our 1930’s shops were fixed up- and that we owned iPhones.
The oldest building around would have to be the museum. Well, the building itself isn’t technically the oldest- if you walked into our lemonade shop, the floor would be slowly turning to dust. But the artifacts it holds are perhaps the oldest you could find.
Take their toys, for example. You could find some of these things back in the 1700’s. Their paintings of the Revolutionary War are priceless. But the most special of them all are the photos.
“Bridget, time to go!” My Mom yelled up the stairs. Speaking of the museum, that’s where we’re going today.
I took my ear buds out and wrapped them around my iPhone. Getting up, I smoothed out my Twenty-One Pilots t-shirt and pulled down my tight jeans.
“Coming!” I shouted back, running out of my room and shutting my poster-smothered door behind me.
A few minutes later I was in the car, my iPhone by my side. My brother, Joshua, was humming random kids songs. “Will you stop humming?” I asked in annoyance, shoving my ear buds back in my ear. I turned my iPhone on to a song called “Heathens.”
Joshua glanced down at my screen and took out my ear buds. “Emo!” He teased.
“I am not an emo!” I grumbled.
Sighing, I looked out the stained car window. Joshua’s juice stains, I knew, and his sticky fingers.
For goodness sake, he was 11 years old, but he just couldn’t grow out of his childhood.
I, at 15 years old, have long gone grown out of my childhood.
When we pulled in the parking lot, my Mom didn’t even have to say, “we’re here!” Before the car even turned off, Joshua jumped out of the car and ran towards the big entrance.
“Whoa there, buddy,” my Dad laughed, walking with Mom towards the entrance.
Like usual, I was just slowly walking behind them, wrapped up in my own world of music and problems. Sure, it was summer vacation. But school problems still lingered in my mind. How much times have I embarrassed myself?
Looking up at the huge Paul Revere stained-glass art, I realized that it was too much times to count.
My Mom looked over her shoulder, turned around, and walked over to me. Taking my ear buds out, she said, “aren’t you going to take these out? You love this place!”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, taking out the other ear bud and tucking the iPhone in my pocket.
“You know, honey,” my Mom said a little sadly. “Live a little, you know?”
Shrugging, I sped up my walk, and threw open the doors. I really did love this place. Sometimes it felt more like family to me. Not everyone says that, especially since this place is packed with old things.
Once I told my “friend” this. She said, “you like that place? Eew! It’s full of mold!”
I shouldn’t have replied what I did. “No it isn’t, stupid. If you bothered to take off that mascara that blinds you, you’d see that the only mold here is you!”
That’s how I lost a friend.
“Come on, Bridget! Let’s go see the dinosaurs!” Joshua yelled.
I looked at my parents. “I’d rather just go see the photos...” I hinted.
My Dad sighed. “You go see the photos, Bridget.”
Saying thank-you, I jogged off into the huge museum. The glass door, the only one in the museum, led to the photos. Nobody ever seemed to be there because people nowadays don’t care about photos. But I know that the photographs are something special.
I instantly walked over to my favorite photograph, the one of two girls, dressed in old blacks dresses and veils draped over their faces, who were staring blankly at the camera. For some reason this always captured me.
But when I walked over to it, it wasn’t there.
In place of the old photo was another. If you hadn’t seen the real photo yet, you wouldn’t think anything of the new one. The new photo was clearly a remake of the ancient photo. Even though they were wearing black dresses and a veil, I could clearly tell the difference.
I wanted to run to my parents and tell them what happened. But I didn’t. Instead, I walked up to the desk in the smack middle of the museum and told the man about my discovery.
He furrowed his eyebrows. “We’ll look into that, little miss.”
I looked down at myself. Did I really look “little?”
“Uh, okay.” I walked away, thinking about what I saw. Who would steal a photo? It was just crazy!
Since I was on my own, I decided to stay that way. I looked around the museum, but it just wasn’t the same knowing that the photo wasn’t here.
It was like you lost a family member. Sad, heartbreaking, and oh-so-depressing.
Hours later, we were back on the road, going home. As we did that, my Mom pointed out a little table full of trinkets on the side of the road. Inwardly, we all sighed. My Mom has a weak spot for yard sales.
When my Dad pulled over, Joshua said, “look! It’s an Xbox game!”
Rolling my eyes dramatically, I got out of the car. Yard sales are fun, don’t get me wrong, but all I wanted to do was get home and ponder about the photo.
Walking slowly towards the table, I looked around at my surroundings. I saw two tiny Chihuahuas tied up to a porch, barking at every car that drove by. I loved small dogs, but I didn’t think the time was right to ask the owners to pet them.
“What’s on your mind?” My Dad put his hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t feel like... I don’t feel like talking about it,” I said. I don’t know why I didn’t tell my Dad. It was weird. It was like something I sort of wanted to keep to myself.
Browsing around the table, a certain box caught my eye. It was a cardboard box, with the word “photos” written on it in messy cursive. I peeked inside of it and was taken away by what I’d seen.
All of these photos looked like they could’ve been taken by a real professional. There was one of a bright purple butterfly perched on a tulip, and another one of an eclipse.
I wanted to take the eclipse one home, but when I asked the lady at the table how much it was, she replied, “2,499 dollars. Anything else?”
The lady gave off bad vibes, and so did the photo’s price. Placing the photo back in it’s box, I decided just to look through the photos. They were really cool.
But then a familiar photo caught my eye. It was a photo taken of two girls in black dresses and veils, looking at the camera with stony expressions. The more I stared at it, the more I realized what it was.
It was the stolen photo.

Keep Reading

Chapter 2

Part Two- The Resolution

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