Sitting at home watching Nickelodeon and should be planning my lesson for this evening, but instead I've decided to write a short story from scratch in the quickest time possible. Here goes...
The motorbike swerved between the rush-hour traffic, narrowly missing a dolmuş filled with passengers making their way home from work. Said Mohammed was coming to the end of his last shift of the week and the messenger just wanted to get the last package delivered so he could go home. Not that he had much to go home to. His girlfriend of 2 years, having decided she was better off with one of her male colleagues, had moved out the week before.
Said pulled over when he came to the address scribbled upon his clipboard and dismounted. He carried the box to the entrance of the establishment, a small butcher's shop in the heart of the Laleli district of Istanbul - once the Russian district. He had always hated coming to this part of the city, with its former hustle and bustle now replaced with empty shops and women of questionable character. The young biker opened the door and entered the meat-merchant's store.
What he saw took him aback. The shop appeared to be deserted and there was no evidence that any business was still conducted here. Where once meat would have been hung up and displayed there was now only cobwebs and dust. He checked the address again before concluding that someone had either made a mistake or it was a hoax. Nonetheless, he called out not really expecting a response. He got one anyway.
From the backroom he heard a faint cry. It sounded weak and desperate. Cautiously he made his way behind the disused counter and through the passageway. The place was a mess, but not so much that he didn't realise that something was amiss. It looked as though someone had been here recently; the empty Starbucks containers and pizza boxes looked far too new to have been abandoned any great length of time ago. He heard the faint cry again.
At the end of the passage was a heavy-looking door which was closed. He approached it, feeling a little uneasy. He suddenly got the feeling something bad was going to happen. Said checked over his shoulder, but there was nothing behind him. Still, he couldn't shake the ill thoughts from his mind even as he kept moving towards the door. Someone cried out again, this time much more softly. The messenger pulled down the handle and opened the door to find that the room was actually the shop's walk-in freezer. It was still working as the cold gave him goosebumps. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself was the reason. He poked his head around and peered in to the giant ice-box. On the floor, he was horrified to see a body.
The body, however, was still somewhat conscious as it moved its head ever so slightly. Said could see that it was a older man, perhaps in his fifties. He was lying prostrate on the floor and didn't look very good at all. Said went over to check on the old man only to be alarmed when the freezer door swung shut behind him. He calmed himself after a few seconds and knelt down beside the stricken man. Said could see that he was in serious trouble, his face severely bloody and his arms and legs bend at improbable angles. The older man muttered. Pozhaluista! He was Russian.
The young Turk asked whether he was OK, but failed to get an answer. Instead, the Russian spied the box on the floor that Said had put down. Painfully, he attempted to reach for it, but couldn't. Said looked from the box to the man to discover he was no longer in a position to do anything else ever again. The beaten-up figure on the floor was dead. Said whipped out his phone, but was dismayed to see that he didn't have a signal. He would have to go outside in order to call the police.
Curiosity, though, had got the better of him and the Turk eyed the package. Why would a dying man be concerned about a parcel? Said lifted up the box and tore it open. His mouth dropped when he saw the stones. Hundreds of diamonds sparkling in the light. For what seemed like an age, the messenger gaped at the riches before him and gasped. Could he pocket the little stones and still call the police? His mind raced. Wouldn't they want to know what he was doing there and what had happened to the package? He knew that wasn't an option. He would just have to leave the Russian behind and hope it would be a long, long time until someone discovered the body. He greedily resealed the box and made sure he hadn't left anything else behind. His heart beating hard, Said tucked the box under his arm again and went for the exit.
However, he froze when he fully understood his predicament. The heavy door had shut and the handle on the inside was missing. Said screamed out, but nobody heard...
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