Serial Killers-Personal Narrative

Words: 1034
Pages: 5

As my blindfold is removed, a bright light washes over my face and I see a sole figure. It seems to be a large man, but I couldn't be sure until he started to grunt, “Where are the jewels?” His voice sent a shiver down my spine and a gulp down my throat. The man loomed over me, waiting for me to say something, anything. I was petrified until I heard the glorious word, “CUT!” A smile spreads across my face as I stand up, slap the man on the back and tell him, “I always forget how good of an actor you are until we start shooting.” With that, I headed towards my trailer. The trailer is quite small, but I find it’s the best place to relax after a long day of filming. I plopped down on the couch and took a nap. What I think was a couple hours …show more content…
Unconvinced that I knew nothing of the crime, the detective continued, “Then why do you have blood on your forehead?” “I scratched my forehead on a jacket zipper. I have a question. What’s the crime?” Irritated detectives aren’t friendly. I found out by his answer, “The news has been travelling on set for the past hour. How could you not know?! You are making yourself a prime suspect.” Eeep. I’m a prime suspect for... Wait. He didn’t even answer my question. “I took a nap after the shoot. So... could you tell me what happened?” I asked sheepishly. He glared at me and pointed towards a whiteboard behind him with a brainstorm of suspects and clues. I felt as though I’ve been slapped. Lola, a dog, was kidnapped. I was about to ask why anyone would kidnap a dog, but I stopped myself. This dog was worth millions of dollars and starred in so many movies, she has a fan club. Now that he established that this was going to be an interrogation he proceeded, “Why do you have dog pee on your leg?” “When I heard the sobbing, I knocked over a glass of water.” “You have already stated that the blood on your forehead was not a dog scratch and that you weren’t near the scene of the crime, but do you have an …show more content…
Just ask my assistant.” Not fully convinced, the detective pressed on, “I have no further question, but who do you feel might be also be a suspect?” I was almost relieved. Key word, almost. He had said also a suspect, meaning I was still on the list. I suggested he talk to people who weren’t shooting at the time of the crime because there was supposed to be a scene in the nearby woods with many people, leaving few suspects. Detective Walsh nodded and the strong men escorted me out. Escorted, more like kicked me out. As I walked away, I was flooded with thoughts. I wanted to go back to Lola’s trailer, but that would make me even more suspicious and I’m already a suspect. If the detective believes that I’m the dognapper, then I should just beat him at his own game. After all, we’re filming a detective show, granted I’m not the detective, just a billionaire that lost all his money, but I think I can do this. As the victim, I don’t get a lot of screen time so I’ll get up early tomorrow and investigate the scene of the crime. Now, it’s late, almost midnight and I head to