How To Fake Your Own Death

Chapter 1- Morgan-

You may want to read this on a computer rather than phone or iPod that way you can tell when the newspaper articles are. Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think.

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Chapter 1- Morgan-

**MORGAN TURNER DECLARED DEAD**

Just yesterday the sixteen-year-old star, Morgan Turner, of Buddies and Where Are We? was in a fatal car crash into a lake, claiming her and her grandmother Grace Turner's lives. Turner was loved by many who gather tonight at 6 p.m. to celebrate this young girl's life. Sadly, Turner's parents passed when she was six-years-old. So the only family left to mourn Turner and her grandmother's tragic death is her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Remember them in your prayers.

The newspapers were getting annoying. They keep talking about how freakin' sad it is that I'm dead and blah blah blah. Oh and here's a good one!

**FOUL PLAY IN MORGAN TURNER'S DEATH?**

Police will not reveal much at the moment, but have informed us foul play in Morgan Turner's death may have been involved. The car was jammed into reverse so Morgan and her grandmother could do nothing as it rolled into Play Lake. No bodies have been found yet, suggesting Morgan and her grandmother could have been murdered by an over-obsessed fan. Police are currently looking for suspects. They think Morgan received a death threat a week before the accident. Until, we find out more, we only have one question. Is there a chance Morgan could still be alive?

I guess I was murdered by myself. Am I dead? No. I, Morgan Turner, am dead to everyone but myself and my grandmother. I know what you must be asking, am I a spirit? A ghost? No, worse. I'm a celebrity. Well, I used to be a celebrity. Until I gave it all up for a quiet life of death.

No one is really looking for me and life couldn't be better. I only have to make sure I wear a long blonde wig over my chocolate brown hair and sunglasses. And I can't have friends anymore. Okay, maybe it sucks a little, but I don't regret it. Well, maybe I do. But I had no choice. The death threat was true. A week before "the accident" I had received what I thought to be fan mail, but instead it was a death threat. It was saying the person didn't like me and yada yada yada. So they said they were going to kill me if I was still a star the week later. I didn't know what to do and I needed to take it seriously. 

Now, as I lay on my hotel bed, tossing a ball into the air, I realize I would have rather died. But, Grandma wouldn't let me. So now I'm bored with only one thought in my head.

Has Justin Bieber ever gotten a death threat?

I mean he's mostly hated, mostly loved by little girls. So I wonder if he's ever had this problem. I guess not because he's not dead. I mean, I'm no fan of Justin Bieber but this random thought just got me thinking. The strange ways my mind works.

I should write a book about this experience. If I ever get famous again, that book will be a hit. I should call it How I Survived Death! That's a good title but I need something better. Believe me, I'm not an author. I can't write worth crap. Also, as you might've noticed, I'm kinda about me. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a little self centered. You would be too if you were this gorgeous!

I decide this ball won't entertain me much longer so I decide to do something I've rarely done since I died two months ago. Venture outside.

"Grandma!" I call into the spacious apartment. "I'm going outside!"

"Okay! Just remember to wear you disguise!" Is all I get back. She's probably in front of the computer. Ever since she's got some free time on her hands, she's decided to spend her death learning how to use the internet. Crazy. But, my grandmother is known for doing insane things.

So I grab my blonde wig and make sure it covers all my hair and it isn't going the blow of. Then I put on my favorite pair of large pink sunglasses. They cover most of my face so I can do more things. I carefully walk to the large elevator right in front of our door. I see my favorite friend inside, Jerry. He's one of those dudes at fancy hotels who control the elevator for you. I don't know what they're called but he's my one and only friend I've got right now. He's in his twenties with blonde hair swept across his forehead.

"Hey, Jerry. Main floor please." I say, making sure my face is turned away.

"Good day, Miss Izzy." Oh, did I forget to mention that I changed my name to Izzy Gray? Oh, well. Anyway, despite his age, Jerry always calls me Miss Izzy.

"How's the weather today, Mr. Jerry?" I ask, playing along with the names.

"Pretty chilly. Today's a kind of day when the sun's snuggled up in the clouds it's so cold." Jerry's the type of person who can also make anything and everything almost sound poetic or funny the way he describes them. "It'll be nice when I can go home and get some hot chocolate."

"Mmm.." I say just thinking about it. "Maybe I'll get some while I'm out. You want me to bring you some?"

"No, thank you, Miss Izzy. I can't see how you wear those sunglasses out when it's so cold and cloudy."

"Because they're my favorite. They're just so... Pink!" I smile at him as I start to step out of the elevator. "See ya, Mr. Jerry!"

"Bye Miss Izzy." He waves to me as I step out into the freezing cold.

I walk down the street, trying to ignore the cold creeping down my neck, towards the coffee shop. I order some hot chocolate and sit down to enjoy it. I watch through the window as people stroll along, having lives. Everyone who sees me thinks I have a life. But I don't because I'm dead...

One kid catches my attention as he walks into the coffee shop. He has on a long brown coat and a weird sort of hat. Is he playing detective? I almost laugh. How old is he? This time I let a giggle slip through my lips. But my laugh is cut off as his gaze slips to me. Without hesitation, he walks up to me and sits down across from me.

"Excuse me?" I say, not caring if I sounded rude. "Did I tell you, you could sit there?"

"Isabel Gray?" How could people just walk into a coffee shop and know who you were. Unless he was looking for me...

"Izzy Gray." I correct.

"I need to ask you some questions about the murder of Morgan Turner."