It all started on a Friday Night. 13 suspects, 1 dead body and a lot of blood.
Two complete strangers meet up to solve the mysterious shocking murder of their common friend and well-known footballer Colber Foster.
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THE FUNERAL, Part I: WHITE ROSES
A/N: loved to write this one, hope u like it. Don't forget to comment and to vote ❤️
AUTHOR's POV
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IT WAS THE START of a new day at Highland Bricklane's Sports&Arts Degree College, but not a regular equally natural day like others, no, this one was different.
There was a constant wave of depressing sadness passing through the heavy weighted air that flickered through the corridors, the piercing disturbing sound of the doors closing helped the growing fear to expand inside the hearts of the barely awakened students.
The weather wasn't helping, there were clouds closing the opened spots of sunlight, the strong smell of wet grass was permanently in place.
It was the day to wear black clothes only, but really everything felt lifeless, consumed by darkness.
At 7am, students started to enter, thinking there would be classes to attend, yet, they were surprised to know some of the professors were grieving too, and wanted to mourn the loss of the student they hadn't had the pleasure to teach, or to meet.
The funeral of Colber Dylan Foster would take place after lunch, next to a church close to the territory where the college stand.
It was so unfortunate the accident that took place that Friday night – the chaos it provoked was only now starting to emerge:
The suspicions about the identidy of the murder, the numerous doubts about his conections to his mates, the secrets there were stillto be revealed, yet especially, the biggest lost belonged to is love ones who weren't ready to say goodbye.
If there was something people cherished about Colber, was his undying determination, the will to suppress his adversities, how the boy would never close his fists and let his elbows face the ground
– Inside the football's pitch, he was the true golden boy, a symbol of pursuance, resistance, strength and courage.
He was running for his life every single time he laid his feet on the grass, he was fighting to win the matches for his own dream to represent his country one day, for his family, his teammates, for the people that cherish his name while he was giving it all, even when his body was failing him.
But, afterall, Colber just wanted to be himself, to be as happy as he could be: a kid whose happiness was determined by the ball that was on his feet, nothing more.
Those were the thoughts circulating inside Brendan's head, what he kept thinking the whole time, while his rigid body touched the cleaned white table standing in the middle of the cafeteria.
