March 2012

CHASED!
A collection of short stories that will give you the creeps!

Rocroy Saint-Vincent de Paul Class of 2011-2012 Seconde 7

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Table of Contents

1. Goodbye, by Gaa Grandin

p.3

2. The Diary of a Cop, by Sarah Jarraya

p.7

3. Aint no Rest for the wicked, by Ossiane Houllevigue p.11 p.17 p.21 p.26

4. The dangerous Seducer, by Ins Chouaieb 5. The last recording, by Maxime Sanchez 6. Trafalgar, by Mathieu Bauchard
7.

Paris by night, the other side, by Zulme Poupard p.30

Goodbye
written by Gaa Grandin

r Colfer was a reputed surgeon. It was 9 p.m. and, as every Friday, he put his coat on his shoulders and locked his office. The surgery department

was empty. The atmosphere was gloomy in the clinic. Long corridors were enlightened by the neon lights. Not a sound except for Mr Colfers footsteps. In short, night was normal for the surgeon. Just a few more steps and he would be out of the building. Suddenly, the lights went off, and another sound of footsteps was audible: fainter, but faster. Mr Colfer, seized by fear, accelerated. He could discern the door, he knew he could reach it. One meter left, and it would be all right. He finally grabbed the handle and, as he was opening the door, someone took a hold on him and whispered: Goodbye Mr Colfer.

The next morning, Detective Criss, discrete and incisive, was on the crime scene. The scene he was confronted to was striking. At the entrance of the clinic, right in the middle of a tiled floor, surrounded by high white walls, was the corpse of the surgeon. The detective peered at the body, without any emotions. Through those years, he had simply gotten used to it.
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As he was scanning the place, a man called him: Detective, we found the murder weapon ! Check it out, thats the first time I see that! . Interrupted in his thoughts, Mr Criss came nearer to the young man, glanced at the weapon and said, a bit disappointed thats a rope, not that original. Not a rope , answered the youngest, Thats a piano string ! he declared. Thats interesting said the detective with a smile on his face.

Mr Criss decided to interrogate the victims wife first. He arrived in a luxurious neighbourhood and finally reached Mrs Colfers house. She was in tears, and seemed totally devastated. So, Mrs Colfer, did your husband have enemies? asked Mr Criss. Well my husband was a great man, polite and careful Everybody loved him, b-but youyou know , she stuttered He was a famous surgeon, and, well, some people died in surgery Families got upset Some others surgeons may be jealous of his career and could have have She started to cry and so Mr Criss decided to leave.

He then went to the office of Mr Anderson, a friend of the victim who had seen him two hours before the murder. He started questioning him. Everything was normal until Mr Anderson asked the detective: Did you find clues on the crime scene ? Well, for the moment the only thing we have is the murder weapon, a piano string . Andersons face changed. He was lost in his thoughts, trying to remember something, A piano string, you say , he whispered. But yes! I remember now!
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Anderson declared. The detective became more and more curious: What? What do you remember? . Well, yesterday, he told me that he had operated, a few days earlier, a famous pianist, but the surgery didnt end well. He seemed really sorry for this young girl and he felt gloomy all day long .

That was it! Something terrible must have happened to this patient and a member of his family may have decided to avenge her, thought the detective. As the man continued his story, the detective interrupted him, and quickly left, mumbling I have to find her .

Mr Criss obtained the address of Miss Berry, the famous pianist recently operated by Mr Colfer. What could have happened to this girl? She may be paralized, or even worse.

256 Rose Street. The taxi stopped in front of a giant skyscraper. He knew he would discover the truth about Mr Colfers death. He rang the intercom of Mrs Berry for a while, but no answer. Impatient and worried, he broke the door open.

Once in the building, Mr Criss started running as fast as he could. A few more steps to go and he would know the truth. And here he was, on the twenty-fourth floor. He didnt even knock on the door and decided to charge into it. As soon as he was in the flat, he came to a standstill. The atmosphere was peaceful. Some classic

music in the background and a relaxing odour of incense in the apartment. Detective Criss started to prowl in the room, gazing at this beautiful place.

Suddenly, he saw her. On the balcony, a figure. Mr Criss, noiselessly, came nearer to the girl. She was sitting on the fence of the balcony, motionless, staring at her right hand, feet in the void. Hello Mrs Berry, Im Mr Criss and Im here to help you he whispered calmly, Come with me, it will be all right . Lies, nothing will be all right. she said quietly, still peering at her hand. She continued I have no reason to live anymore, and this surgeon got what he deserved, he destroyed my life, he had to pay . Why? What did he do? said the detective, as he was trying to get closer to the girl to grab her. The piano was all my life, I lived for my career. He said this intervention was a routine, that he had to operate on my hand and that there was no risk. But when I woke up I couldnt control it anymore. No more piano, no more career, that was the end for me. And so it had to be the end for him too Goodbye Mr Criss . As she finished speaking, she glanced at the detective and jumped from the twenty-fourth floor.

The Diary of a Cop

Written by Sarah Jarraya

put the clothes in the washer. I took a shower. I turned on the TV A nineteen year old girl, Ashley Johnson, was found dead this morning

lying on a park bench. I turned it off. It was a cold night of December. It was three in the morning. The wind was blowing. My cell phone rang. It was my boss telling me to show up to investigate the crime of this nineteen year old girl. She was the seventh victim of the month. I told him that I would be there in two. I grabbed my police badge and my gun. As I was driving to the crime scene in my blue Ford Mustang I stopped by Donuts King to buy coffee and donuts for my pal Santos. I was queuing up when an old lady asked me to catch a plastic spoon for her; I handed it to her. Thank you so much young boy! Im getting old and Im not six feet tall like you! she said with her faint voice. Dont worry maam, its a pleasure for me to serve you I replied nicely. Oh! How sweet! You look just like my grandson, brown dark hair and those green eyes are just like his! she told me while she was gazing at my back. Thanks madam! I hope you dont mind but Im kind of in a hurry I told her smiling.
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Sure! Goodbye! Have a nice day she replied stuttering.

I walked down the street. I went to my car. I tasted one of those sweet donuts. Delicious I thought. I eat one every day at 8am. It is kind of a habit for me. I drank a sip of coffee as usual. I reached the park, strained my ears. Journalists were already there! Hey pal whats up? Santos asked. Nothing, just cant believe he is continuing I replied. I mean hasnt he already killed enough? When will he stop? I shouted. I dont know but dont worry we will catch him. The corpse was found out there on the bench. Santos said. We rushed to the bench. I gave him his donut. There was a smell of cold coffee; Certainly Donuts Kings, their smell is unique Santos remarked. He slapped my shoulder as if he wanted to wake me up from my thoughts. I noticed some weird guy prowling around the crime scene. I decided to stare at him to see how he would react. He peeped at what was surrounding him and acted as if he didnt see me and took off. Santos had also noticed his strange gait. We looked at each other and ran after him. We chased him for ten miles. It is common for a murderer, if he is a psychopath, to prowl around the crime scene. He had pretty nimble feet. He stumbled. Santos booked him. I didnt do anything! Let go of me The man stammered.

Well well see that at the office. Youre under arrest; you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot an attorney, one will be provided for you.

As I brought him in custody Santos appealed for witness. I was interrogating the suspect when all of a sudden Santos came in. He slammed the door behind him and started laughing. They had found a witness. The description he gave matched with the suspect. Apparently the victim was waiting for someone. The witness admitted sneaking on her. He said a six feet high male came out of nowhere. They started talking. He was out of hearing and could not understand what they were saying but he was certain they were fighting. She tried to escape but he did not want her to go so he grabbed her by the hair and thrust her. She fell. He pulled out his gun. The witness heard a jarring cry. She shrieked for someone to help her. Unfortunately for her the witness was a coward so he didnt do anything to help her out. The murderer shot her. He took off. The witness said he heard a purring engine and then a blue car left the crime scene. The witness came nearer the victim. Apparently she was already dead, her body was stiff, and it was stinking of coffee and donuts. The witness told Santos that he had scanned the surroundings of the bench and that he hadnt seen anybody. So he decided to leave before someone could see him. He already had a criminal record for assault.

After this deposition the suspect had no chance to be released. He already had a criminal record; his description matched perfectly with the murderers; he had no alibi for the seven murders; he was a faithful customer of Donuts King. He was found guilty for the seven murders committed the past month and was given a one hundred and fifty year sentence so that he could never get out of prison. In the court, during the trial, I remember seeing the old woman from the Donuts King. She actually was the convicts grandmother. During the trial or even during the investigation no one, no one had thought, even for a minute, that I could be the murderer.

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Aint no Rest for the wicked

written by Ossiane Houllevigue

Thursday 7 th September

I'm afraid of light, it reveals your true nature. Going out frightens me and staying alone makes me sick. I hate myself.

Saturday 9 th September

Today, I was visited by cops, they had come to offer their condoleances to me, once more. They don't manage to find any clues and don't even suspect me. Strange. Usually, the husband is one of the first suspects. They must feel pity for me, a man totally devastated by his wife's death. But reality is so different.

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Sunday 10 th September

My best friend came, he tried to comfort me... If only he knew. Another man came. Not a bad guy but not necessarily a convenient person. He often gets into trouble, especially with the mafia. He asked me if everything was OK. I shouldn't have told him the truth, I thought he was trustworthy but not at all. He doesn't understand me and believes we are alike. Rubbish!

Tuesday 12 th September

The police want me to give some details about the evening when my wife died. Like I wasn't miserable enough. I don't want to remember, I don't want to feel guilty anymore. My life is passing away and I hope to be released from all these chains. I am exhausted. I have finally finished answering all their questions, pretty useless What did you do that nigh ? With whom? Are you sure you don't have any information? . I am totally fed up. One day, maybe, I will be able to tell all I know.

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Monday 18 th September

One week has passed. An awful week. The burden of guilt is heavier and heavier. I have seen nobody. So much the better! I wasn't ready, I can't face anyone. I miss my wife. If only those douchbags of cops would leave me alone, I would be able to forget about all of this for one or two days. But no ! They call me every day of the week to know if I remember something! Since when do they have a doubt?

Wednesday 20 th September

I have made a resolution. I will see this troublesome guy. It must be because of him that cops don't leave me alone. He has probably betrayed my secret in exchange for a reduced sentence. What a jerk!

Thursday 21 st September

I saw him and he beamed with joy as soon as he spotted me. He even didn't let me time to question him! He said he had problems. Again. Does he have no friends to beg for help to someone he just met? Whatever. He needed an important sum and he thought I was wealthy. Not really the case, nevertheless, I decided to play with him, he was just a dead loss after all. So I told him he would get money if he answered a few questions. First, I asked him if he had denounced me: No ! How could I do this? You are a friend to me - I tried to suppress my smile at this moment - butthey were threatening me I

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glared at him. How could he have dared? I came nearer, he came to a standstill, stammering and mumbling useless apologies. I had bent forward, grabbing his shoulder and I whispered to him, next to his ear: Don't mess up another time. I don't appreciate feeling betrayed as my wife did. I hope you will be cleverer than her. Then, I dropped him and he became paler. I could feel his heart thumping! I turned around and left, without forgetting to let a tiny bunch of sweet greenbacks. If he breaks the deal, a single ticket for jail expects him.

Friday 22 nd September

I have faced this blinding light today. I must go out. Not for going shopping, I got a fresh and new delivery boy yesterday! I have to go out for another reason, less pleasant: people who suffer from an emotional shock must have a counselling because they can be disturby. So, I have to meet my psychoanalyst. Also, she suggests me to hold a diary cause it's helpful she said... And I'm afraid, she is right. Finally, I haven't seen the shrink. She has cancelled my appointment. Instead, I have watched an action movie with screeching tyres, whistling bullets, and a man who was there at the wrong moment at the wrong place.

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Monday 25 th September

I feel more angered than ever and the worst is I don't know why. I have been moody for days, it is unbearable, I can't stand it anymore: one day, I am totally depressed, the other totally mad. I heard a song There ain 't no rest for the Wicked and I secretly hope it's not true. Oh! Dear diary, I haven't told you yet... I'm getting on the nerves of my delivery boy. I have to do something for him because we have a deal after all. Tomorrow, it will be one month, day for day that she died. I hope heaven is for me.

Tuesday 26 th September

One month, day for day.

If his corpse can't tell what happened, ask his home! Of course, a house is full of secrets! A man was complaining. Oh? A diary? Hmm... We all know he has been killed after all! Carelessly, the man threw the book into the trash. Then, another man was arrested. His name? John Lecker, accused of William Johnes' death, a man who had lost his wife a short time ago. He was suspected

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after inheriting everything from William. But there is a thing that no one knows, John received a letter from William telling him about the end of the deal, the end of Williams life.

Because a death can be turned into a murder, because the truth becomes lies, there is a rest for the wicked.

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The dangerous Seducer

Written by Ins Chouaieb

My name is William Hudson, I am thirty-one and I have killed two beautiful

girls. The first one was Sarah Cunningham. She was a history student. She was brilliant, it is a pity she died. How bad I am! I met her at a very nice party. I gazed at her for a while, then I approached slowly still staring at her. She was one of the most charming girls I had ever seen, she was so artless. I complimented her and I lied to her as usual, I told her I was a lonely millionaire who was seeking love and of course she drank my words, it was so easy. I brought her back home. She was so grateful, so cute... She let me in, she had such a great flat especially for a student. I first stabbed her in her stomach. She was shocked and her eyes were wide-opened. She told me: Please dont kill me, please and I answered: Dont worry sweetheart, everything is going to be alright. She tried to scream so I stabbed her in her beating heart. I surrounded her with my arms. She was peering at me and I looked at her until the best moment, when the light inside her eyes went away, a tear rolling down her cheek. It was magical, a real movie scene. I cleaned the room because it was such a mess there. The police was looking for me and especially lieutenant Fisher.
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He became mad because he had nothing about me, no DNA, no fingerprints, no witnesses, no other similar case: nothing. It was enjoyable to see them going round in circles. But I do not know how, Fisher was getting closer. I could not let that happen, so I decided to take revenge.

He killed two young women in cold blood. His first victim was Sarah Cunningham. We found her in her flat two days after her death, she had not answered the phone and her friends were worried because it was not in her habits. We saw her lying on the floor, a pool of blood around her. Her eyes were still wide-opened and we could see that she had been scared. She had two wounds, one in her stomach, the other in her heart. The crime scene was spotless. My colleagues and I were shocked. What kind of a monster could have done that? We did everything to find him but he was smarter than we thought. We called a profiler, she said that he was between twentyfive and thirty-five years old, that he was probably handsome and a great boaster who loved being loved. She also said that he was a selfish and self-centred sociopath. It was disturbing because we knew that nothing would stop him. We appealed for witness and fortunately a girl - who had been dredged by a man, who matched our description, the evening of the murder - came to the police station. Thanks to her we were able to make an identikit picture. But he did not appreciate it because I had more clues than he expected. He became uncontrollable because he knew that we were close to get him. And he made a terrible mistake, he played with me.

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I spied on him every day. He was the prey and I was the hunter. Thats how I learnt he had a daughter, a wonderful daughter. I had the best and the funniest way to take revenge. I met her at college, I pretended to be a student like her. I charmed her progressively. We had lunch, then dinner, we talked, we laughed. She totally fell in love with me. It made me glad to know that I had won. I killed her as I had charmed her: slowly. Strangely she was speechless. Of course she struggled but she was too fragile. We can say that I tortured her and that she suffered. I know it is a bit unfair because I hold it against her father but the end justifies the means... After that, I became famous, everybody was talking about me and I was nicknamed The dangerous seducer.

He attacked my little daughter, my only reason to live. He made her fall in love with him. He played with her heart. He aimed at hurting me and he managed to. We found Rachel in her room, naked. There was blood everywhere, he did not clean this time, in order to show me how much she had suffered. He forced her to write I died because of my daddy on her wall with her own blood. I could not handle this sight. My only obsession was to catch him, to make him pay for what he had done. And now I am about to be satisfied. Indeed my dear daughter fought before dying and she scratched him, so we found his DNA under her nails. Because he had a small criminal record we could identify him. I finally got him.

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Im pacing up and down in my room. I know he is outdoors. He cant catch me like that. I deserve better. I am The dangerous seducer. Hes behind my door. I wont let him do that. I cant let him do that! Who does he think he is? Im better than him. Im better than anyone! What I did is amazing.

Lie down, he ordered. Hey my favourite cop. How are you? And your lovely daughter?, he taunted him. Shut up !, he shouted, Dont talk about her. Why ? She was my girlfriend before this tragedy. My gun isnt too far you know. If I were you, I would stop. And then what? You will kill me? Im not sure you are worth it! I can help you telling you what I did to her. Lieutenant Fisher pointed his gun at William who finally stopped smiling but who kept his air of satisfaction. After all William had won, he had destroyed him for ever!

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The last recording

Written by Maxime Sanchez

My name is Jamie Robshaw, I work in the import-export business and I am hidden in the attic of a disused factory. If I am recording my story,

thats because I saw something that I should not have seen. I know they will find me, so I want my family to understand why Im going to die. Please, if you find this tape recording, send it to Lauren Robshaw, Newington Church Street near Highbury Square and

I heard a purring engine! Theyre arriving at the factory!

Well, it was yesterday evening, the ninth of October. I had just finished my working day when I remembered that I had forgotten a clients file. I turned round and swung along to find it. I entered in the warehouse and suddenly I heard a creaking door: someone was opening the warehouse! I bent forward and saw two men who were whispering. I was out of hearing so I came nearer noiselessly to see and understand what was happening. At this moment, a lorry entered in the warehouse. The two men thrust and grabbed the freight of the lorry. They opened it. I was speechless because
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Oh! They are crying out! They will find me soon!

The lorrys freight was a freight of weapons. Someone was arm dealing in my warehouse! Suddenly, I saw two cops entering in the warehouse. They must have known the dealers because they welcomed the two cops. The policemen were giving money to the dealers when I recognised one of the cops; he was one of my friends. I glared at him. I also stumbled and made a muffled noise. They all caught a glimpse of me but he unfortunately also recognised me. He shouted my name and asked me to come nearer. I turned round and, ran to the exit of my warehouse, rushed to my car but I couldnt get it started so I rushed into the street as fast as I could. I didnt know what I should do. I couldnt go to the police station because they could also be corrupted by the dealers. I decided to leave the city with my family

I just glanced at them, theyre coming nearer!

I ran in the night, under pattering rain in the direction of my house at the opposite side of London. I saw a cab and I took it to go back home faster. The cab let me in Newington Church Street. I swung along to my building. The dealers knew where I lived! I suddenly was afraid for my wife and my daughter so I entered quickly in my building - they were following me. I entered in my flat and fortunately my family was not there. The men were knocking on the door and I heard a whistling bullet. I decided to get out of my flat going leaving by the service
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stairs. I was once again alone in the street. I had nobody to speak to and nobody could help me. I decided to call my wife to inform her that she could not go back to our flat but I saw that I had forgotten my phone in my office in my import-export company. I was so stupid so I tried to find somewhere to spend the night. Somewhere where they couldnt find me. At this time, I remembered that I

I cant run away from the factory, Im hurt in the knee!

Well It was at this moment that I remembered that I had worked in a factory that had closed five years ago. I thought that it was a good place to spend the night. I walked to this disused factory in Strafford Street in the East of London. Since their attack in front of my building, I had been keeping a look out, so I scanned the entire streets and the alleys before going there, I strained my ears to hear if I was followed by someone. On my way I found a phone box in a spooky alley. I called my wife but she didnt answer. I decided to call the police. I was explaining the policeman what was happening when I saw someone with a threatening gait in the creepy alley. He came to a halt near my phone box. When I saw that he had a knife under his jacket, I decided not to linger in this gloomy alley. I just said where I was going and I went out of my box, turned round, walked straight on in the alley, staring at the man who was gazing at me

They are going up to the attic! Im dead!

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But fortunately, this man didnt do anything and I could arrive in the disused factory. I stepped over the wire fence that was so sharp that I hurt my knee. I just limped on the floor to the attic where I am and where I found this old recorder. The cop that I had called in the phone box must have been corrupted because they have found me.

Oh! They heard me! They are arriving to kill me! The corrupted cop that I know is called Croft, James Croft! And Lauren, I love

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

Grab his hands, I am grabbing his feet. We will throw him in the Thames.

When I found it in a dustbin, I thought I should give you this recording, inspector. It was a good idea, thank you very much The inspector sees the tramp out and asks his co-worker: Do you think this recording is a true one or a hoax? It must be a hoax; we didnt find any man in the Thames

One month later, Jamie Robshaw was found in the Thames, his body was

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sent to his wife with the recording, James Croft was arrested with five corrupted cops. The arms dealing was broken up. And the Victoria Cross was posthumously awarded to Jamie Robshaw.

The End

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Trafalgar
Written by Mathieu Bauchard

went out of his flat, went downstairs and reached the street. The man who was waiting for him in the car opened the door. A fast, aerodynamic

and luxurious Italian model, whose bodywork signed Pininfarina was sporting a handsome navy blue. Its brown leather seats were smelling cigar. N sat and closed the door while the driver was starting up. They left the Rue Bonaparte, and followed the quays. Then they turned right taking the Pont de la Concorde and then turned left and went up quite quickly the Avenue des Champs-Elyses. It was half past three a.m. The Avenue was full of lights in spite of the hour. After that they passed the Arc de Triomphe and continued straight on the Avenue de la Grande Arme all the way to the avenue of the General de Gaulle and some minutes later they reached the A 14 motorway. N had always really loved to see Paris by car, dazzled with its architecture, lights and majesty. Thats why he didnt immediately pay attention to the driver. On the motorway, he observed him more attentively. He was wearing a blue leather jacket, beige trousers and a white tee-shirt. His facial features were deformed by alcohol and his head was surrounded by black sideburns. He had

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small piercing and sly blue eyes. The two men exchanged a brief glance which made N understand his fate. It was never a good thing to cross his path . N felt his head becoming heavy and his breath short. He wanted to cry and to jump out of the car but with this man he had better wait and pray all the way to the last minute for a miracle. However, N kept the control of his emotions and recovered his cool blood. He asked in a quit loud voice what their destination was. The man smiled and didnt answer. He switched on the radio and accelerated. Near Rouen, the car left the A13, took the N138 and went through the city where it stopped. The driver opened the glove box, took a small bottle of chloroform he poured on a hanky that he maintained on Ns face, while whispering: Ill have a glass and Im back in half an hour. Dream of the past. Its the only thing youve got now. Then N heard the voice of Elvis Presley singing, inviting him to join him, and attracting him to the bright light, to paradise. N ran to the singer and, breathless finally reached the light. Youre lucky, your life expectancy made a leap forward of three hours. Congratulations. The radio was still diffusing rockn roll and the driver was still there, watching over him with his cruel eyes. Were your dreams pleasant? The light of the sun was making N squint. He saw a traffic sign indicating Boulogne-sur-Mer. The driver took the road of the harbor and headed for the car-ferries. They waited fifteen minutes and reached the customs. The driver anticipated Ns ideas and told him he had never failed and the only

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difference if he called for help was that the customs officer would receive a bullet too. N understood and they finally passed the control easily. Twenty- minutes later they were boarding the immense ship. More opportunities would arise to the prisoner. They got off the car. The driver got a pistol out of his pocket and pressed the barrel into Ns back. If you move, the blood of innocent people will flow with yours. They slowly reached the stairs and the second floor where the driver got a key out of his pockets and opened a cabin. They entered in, and each one sat in a comfortable arm chair. The cabin was quit luxurious. The furniture was Empire style. The man opened the varnished mini-bar and offered a drink to his guest. Can I offer you a glass of whisky? No, thank you. Anything else? No, uh yes, would you have champaign? Yes of course. They clunk glasses to eternal life and drank. N saw the man had a real weakness for whisky and asked for another drink to make him serve up again. It worked. And both drank like fish. It became a battle. It was to the one who would hold out the longest. But no-one gave up. Thus both together drank until bottles got empty. Then they talked about their ancestors, the war, their customs and their countries. Each of them was defending his homeland with vigor and was trying to show why it was the best. Finally the boat arrived in Dover and half an hour later they left it. Dover was into such a fog that it was impossible to see after fifteen meters. The man drove him to one of the mysterious pubs of the Marine

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Parade and stopped the car. Old fishermen were drinking at the bar. In the dark nooks, some dishonest people were whistling. When the two men entered the bar, all the clients stared at N with a mix of hatred and contempt. They all had

drunkards faces, where the years had dug furrows. The smell of fish, salt, scum, alcohol and dust was unbreathable and the atmosphere stifling. N, seeing that he was not welcome: Salut, Rosbeefs, fait pas beau chez vous. A grunt ensued. The man brandished his gun and pushed N in an empty room adjacent to the main one, which was very dirty, devoid of furniture and windows. An old green and stripped torn wallpaper adorned the wall. The damaged and drab parquet was strewn over with red-burgundy spots. N understood this room was the finish. He had no chances to escape. He attempted a desperate action. While the man was closing the door behind him, N abruptly hit a formidable and violent blow to his executioners head, who, groggy, let his weapon fall. Then N quickly collected it and shot once after which his missed target, who had recovered his wits, pounced on him brandishing a knife and stabbed him twice the stomach.

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Paris by night, the other side

Written by Zulme Poupard

Inspired from a true story

t was three oclock in Paris; Charlotte was coming home after a boring party. Her best friend was always pushing her to go out with her new

friends but she didnt appreciate them. She found that her friend had totally changed since she had decided to make friends with the most popular students of the high school. They were just a group of hypocritical and supercilious people who knew nothing about friendship. Swinging along in the dark night, she suddenly felt very isolated and was on the verge of tears. Passing by her neighborhood DVD shop, she greeted the owner named Karim whom had known for ages. The nice man had to work at night to keep his head above water and to pay for his childrens education. By realizing his living conditions, she thought her problem were not so important.

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Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and turned round but she was alone on the sidewalk, and thought the pattering rain was at the origin of the noise. She hurried up, willing to go to bed quickly and a bit frightened by staying alone in the

gloomy streets. When she pushed the door opened on her buildings courtyard, a robust man entered with her. First she thought he was one of her neighbors, yet he continued to follow her to the entrance of the lift. Worried, she came to a standstill and asked: Are you the new-comer of the second storey? Then the tall man grabbed her long black hair with violence and started to unzip his pants. In a fit of anger he tightened his arm with his huge hands shouting at her: Listen to me and you wont have any trouble. Lie down on the floor right now! Panic-stricken, she succeeded in keeping her self-control and driven by her survival instinct, she took him by surprise telling him with a pretended calm: No, I dont want to do this like that. You are very attractive but I dont know you. Lets have a drink together! There are many opened bars in Pigalle at 3 and a half. Surprised, he stammered and uttered muffled words. She benefited from his confusion to order him softly to release her arm. She took a step toward the exit door and he came nearer seeming to agree. In the street, she felt less threatened but her heart was still thumping. In order to go away from him, she pretended to have to call her mother to inform her she wouldnt go home soon. Suspicious, he
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grabbed her arm again and frowned. She convinced him that her mother would look for her if she realized that she wasnt home. He agreed at the condition that he would stay next to her during the phone call. In reality, she didnt call her mother; she didnt want to worry her while she knew that she couldnt do

anything. While she was pretending to speak to her mother, she quickened her pace which infuriated the threatening man. Yet, before he could retain her, she rushed into the DVD shop. In a few seconds she succeeded in telling Karim that her life was endangered. Before he could talk to her, the rapist came in, looking furious. He glared at Karim, yelling at Charlotte and trying to rush her out. Karim stepped forward, in-between Charlotte and her aggressor and said: Im sorry but I cant let Charlotte go out. I promised her mom that I would keep her from going out with boys. And then, he started lecturing Charlotte saying: Charlotte, thats enough. Its the fourth guy you go out with this week. Do you really want to make your mom sad? Before Charlotte could answer, the aggressor, loosing his self control, shouted: No, she is coming with me, she said she would! Understanding that the crossed man wouldnt leave peacefully, Karim jumped on him and, not without difficulties, finally succeeded in immobilizing him taking him by surprise. Charlotte, shell shocked grabbed the phone and called the police. They
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kept the violent man locked up and a few minutes later, they heard screeching tyres and sirens. The cops handcuffed the rapist and realized that the man had been wanted for several months; he was Paulo Sousa, a serial killer. He had killed and raped five women in one year.

After filling her report at the police station, Charlotte finally came back home. At the sight of the lift, she realized what she had escaped from. Humiliation and death. She fell on the floor shivering and wept bitterly, relieved.

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CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS

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