It was a stormy night. The wind was howling loudly, and the rain was pouring. Someone was knocking on the door. I opened the door, and it was the room service lady, Diane. She asked if I\u2019d fancy a cup of hot jasmine tea. I accepted the tea. She left to get the tea as I gently closed the door. Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I\u2019m Aristide Whitlock, aged 23, and I\u2019m an artist. I had just finished my shift as a part-time waiter at a caf\u00e9, and it suddenly started raining cats and dogs. Unfortunately, I forgot my umbrella, so I was soaking wet. Perhaps that was why Diane offered me some hot tea to warm me up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Diane was back with the tea, and I invited her into my room. She sat in the armchair and smiled as I sipped my hot, fragrant jasmine tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Diane looked at my unfinished artwork and asked, \u2018So, how have you been? Miss Janice told me to take good care of you.\u2019 Janice was my aunt and the co-owner of the hotel, and her husband was the owner. I took a deep breath and answered, \u2018Everything\u2019s fine, I guess.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Are you sure?\u2019 asked Diane.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Yes,\u2019 I miffy answered. \u2018What makes you think I\u2019m not?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Well, you can\u2019t afford to live in an apartment and have to rely on your aunt,\u2019 Diane shook her head and said. \u2018Your aunt is getting old, and you can\u2019t just rely on her your entire life! You need to wake up and think about what to do with your life. You have to look inward and ask yourself the bigger questions.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was ignorant. I pretended I didn\u2019t understand what Diane said. I smiled awkwardly and told her to leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But what she said shook me. I realised that nothing was subtle. I rely on the income from my low-paying part-time job, and I haven\u2019t gotten a single art commission since this March, and it was for my friend\u2019s wedding. And I am living in a hotel where I begged my uncle to allow my aunt to let me stay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was in a financial struggle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I needed to make a change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I decided to take a stroll around my hometown, looking for some decent-paying jobs. I, however, couldn\u2019t find any that piqued my interest. I was in despair. What was I going to do? Was my life going to be relying, relying and relying?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t let this happen, so I wrote to my friend, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Hey, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ve been looking for some jobs, and I know you live in a place convenient for those. Would you mind giving me a tour of your neighbourhood while letting me see some jobs? Thanks a lot.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I got Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric\u2019s reply about three days later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Sure, Aris. I\u2019d love to. After all, I haven\u2019t seen you since I married Vivienne. Also, thanks for the painting you did for us, love it and have it framed and pinned on the wall. I guess I\u2019ll see you this Friday \u2013 when I\u2019m free \u2013 at Johan Caf\u00e9.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was ecstatic. I would finally have (like my mother always said) a proper occupation. I was on top of the world, soon worry-free from financial issues. What could go wrong?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everything, everything went wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On that very day, I met up with Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I laughed, \u2018Oh Fred, your hair is so messy!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric blushed in embarrassment and muttered, \u2018I just woke up 30 minutes ago! My alarm clock didn\u2019t work!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I requested in the letter, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric took me around his neighbourhood. We walked around, and Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric stopped at a door of a vibrant pink house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He said, \u2018Mr. Monet lives here, and I think he can help you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric knocked on the door, but Mr. Monet didn\u2019t answer. Instead, I heard screaming and smelt a strong scent of rust. I tapped on the door again, but there still wasn\u2019t an answer. And this time, there was a loud bang, and the whiff of rust was getting increasingly malodorous. At last, we banged on the door, and Mr Monet finally answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr Monet had silver hair and a pair of charming glasses. He wore a pair of surgical gloves tinted with red and a butcher\u2019s apron also tinged with red.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr Monet smiled, not showing awareness of his attire and celebrated, \u2018Well, isn\u2019t it my favourite boy? Fred! I haven\u2019t seen you since March. Where have you been?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric hugged Mr Monet and smiled, \u2018I\u2019ve been busy with work. Sorry for not visiting you, but I need your help. May we come inside and talk about it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr Monet gaped and replied, \u2018Yeah\u2026sure\u2026.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric and I went inside. How cute! The interior had a fairy-tale-themed design, very unexpected for a man like Mr Monet. However, the dirty rust smell got more intense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr Monet got some tea and asked us to sit on the sofa. He asked in a heavy British accent, \u2018Now, who\u2019s this handsome young lad?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric answered, \u2018That\u2019s my friend, Aristide.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I added, \u2018You may call me Aris for short.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr Monet raised his eyebrows and said, \u2018What\u2019s the help you need?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Well, you see my friend here,\u2019 Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Yes?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018He needs a job.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I see.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Out of nowhere, there was a muffled yelp, \u2018HELP\u2019, Mr Monet sweated and stuttered, \u2018D-don\u2019t mind that. It\u2019s just the cat.\u2019 Mr Monet ran upstairs, and I heard a lot of banging noises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Mr Monet was gone, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric drank the whole cup of tea and asked me, \u2018Hey, this tea is some good stuff. Do you mind if I drink yours too?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I answered, \u2018Not at all. I wasn\u2019t going to drink it anyway.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After a short while, Mr Monet was back, covered in sweat as if he had just taken a shower. \u2018Aris, isn\u2019t it? Here\u2019s a treat for you, all the jobs in the city,\u2019 Mr Monet said. \u2018Now, would you two kindly leave? I have some duties to attend to.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Alright, thanks, Mr Monet,\u2019 said Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric, waving to Mr Monet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric and I left Mr Monet\u2019s house and headed to Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric\u2019s cosy cottage. However, during the walk, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric said, \u2018My body feels numb. Can we sit down and let me take a rest?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I helped Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric to a nearby bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After a short while, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric said weakly, \u2018I think I\u2019m fine now. Let\u2019s go.\u2019 But Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric was really alright. When Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric got from the bench, he collapsed onto the ground. He had a stroke and groaned in pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He kept moaning until he stopped moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I phoned the police immediately, and they came in a short while, along with the ambulance. The doctor crouched down and quickly examined Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric. It wasn\u2019t long before Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric had laid his last breath. The doctor said, \u2018I\u2019m sorry for your loss.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I gave a dry sob, but deep down. I was sorrowful, demented and in grave despair. How did Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric suddenly die? Did someone murder him? Who could\u2019ve done such a thing?! Soon, the police requested me to follow them for an inquiry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During the ride to the police station, I looked at the folder Mr Monet gave me. There was the same rusty smell that came from his house. That was when I realised that wasn\u2019t the scent of rust at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was blood, blood from his cold-hearted murders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we arrived at the police station, the police ordered me to tell them what I knew. I told them about how Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric died, from his stepping in Mr Monet to his very last moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I left the police station, still in the gloom of Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric\u2019s sudden death. I set off to Johan Caf\u00e9 to get my usual \u2013 a hot mocha latte \u2013 and went back to the hotel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Back at the hotel, it was already midnight. The wind was yet again howling loudly while the rain was pouring heavily. Once more, someone knocked on the door. Was this some kind of d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I didn\u2019t even bother to open the door this time. I knew it was Diane, worried about me again. At this point, I can\u2019t stand more \u2018ted-talks\u2019 from anyone except Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric. I wished that he were still alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lay on my bed and thought about what had happened that day, from Mr Monet to the, y\u2019know\u2026that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What was something that Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric did that I didn\u2019t? A strange light sparked within my eyes, and suddenly, I had an idea of how Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric was brutally murdered. Maybe that light was a blessing from Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next day I bolted to the police station and told them my theory that Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric got poisoned by the drink Mr Monet gave us. My proof included the peculiar screaming and banging that concluded Mr Monet could\u2019ve murdered and wanted to rid all witnesses of any proof. The tea Mr Monet gave had a vile skunk spray smell, and Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric had hyposmia. I didn\u2019t notice the smell since it blended with the rusty blood scent in the background.\\<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The police thought for a while and one said, \u2018Yes, we have a similar theory too. Yesterday we saw your file, and it was from Mr Monet, so we searched his house and found two empty teacups and this pen, that says\u2026 Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Laurent \u2013 who\u2019s the victim of the murder.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The police showed me the pen, and the other continued, \u2018We thought that Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric and you had visited Mr Monet\u2019s house, so we did a DNA check on the cups to make sure. We were correct. But meanwhile, the Forensics contacted us that Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric had died of batrachotoxin poisoning, so we scrutinised the cup and both had very little remaining of batrachotoxin inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I asked, \u2018So it\u2019s confirmed that Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric died from barto-what?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Batrachotoxin.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Yes, Batrachotoxin.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Well, \u2018yeah. But we found something else when searching Mr Monet\u2019s house.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018What is it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Dead bodies of famous artist Ruselle Fleming and her sister.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018W-wow\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018We don\u2019t know his intentions, but we must send him to justice. This man is not safe.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few days passed and there was news about Mr Monet. He was arrested for homicide and at last, imprisoned for 26 years. Yet, we do not know the true intentions of this wicked man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, my dear Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric, Mr Monet is now sent to justice. Rest in peace, you will be remembered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A year later, I saw shocking news\u2026but I\u2019m not going to tell you, yet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It was a stormy night. The wind was howling loudly, and the rain was pouring. Someone was knocking on the door. I opened the door, and it was the room service lady, Diane. She asked if I\u2019d fancy a cup of hot jasmine tea. I accepted the tea. She left to get the tea as I gently closed the door. Oh, I .........<\/p>Read More<\/a>","protected":false},"author":20,"featured_media":8474,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8179","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","language-en","classlevel-s1","schoolyear-84"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8179","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/20"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8179"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8179\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8181,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8179\/revisions\/8181"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8474"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8179"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8179"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.carmelss.edu.hk\/buddingwriters\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8179"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}