The Murder Mysteries A book from the bestselling author Josh Little. This story is about a boy who lost his parents in a freak accident. Who did it? Why?
Six years ago, when I was 8, both of my parents died in a freak incident, their bodies found unscathed in the woods. From that day on, I was moved from house to house as my guardians all went mysteriously missing. This happened for years until I was left in the custody of my uncle who was old, wrinkled and very mysterious. Never liked any of my other relatives, including me. He owned an eerie house, secluded on the top of a hill. It looked like it had never been cleaned, yet he had two maids. Every corner was littered with cobwebs and suits of armour. It was all very strange.
After having stayed at his house for a few years, something didn’t seem right. He was not around the house and never showed up for meals. I
started getting suspicious. He would go on “business trips� for months at a time, leaving me with his trusty maids. During this time, I would explore the house, finding a seemingly infinite number of rooms.
One day, I found a secret passage hidden under his bed, obscured by a rug. This evidence reinforced my doubts as I climbed down a rickety ladder, the path only lit by candles. I got to the end of the tunnel and there I saw him: my uncle, asleep, surrounded by notes and maps. I crept around him, his loud snore masking my steps. I grabbed a journal and a few creased pieces of paper and hurried back up the ladder. I went to my room and, to my surprise, the notes were all focused on the disappearances of my previous guardians. What could this mean?
I woke up the next day to the usual chores: walking his Pit-bull, washing the rusty car despite the maids being present. It did not seem like he noticed anything about his missing papers that I had stashed inside the frame of the unusual portrait of an unknown relative that hung on my wall. After returning from walking the dog, and quickly cleaning it, with much caution, I went up to my room to find the portrait in pieces on the floor with no sign of the papers.
Later that night, I ventured back down the mysterious ladder, the candlelit passage continuing to make me nervous. As I reached the room at the bottom, now absent of my uncle, there were no longer any papers present. In fact, the room was empty, except for a suit of armour standing alone in the corner, causing me to wonder why my uncle still came down here at least once a fortnight. Despite the room being empty, I still looked around for anything peculiar. Suddenly, I heard the creak of the ladder and decided to hide behind the suit. My uncle walked over to one of the walls and pushed the old, cracked bricks in a strange sequence. A whirring sound came from inside the wall and the bricks parted to reveal a narrow corridor which seemed to go on forever. Before the wall reconstructed itself, I ran in behind him, following him with my back against the cobbled wall.
When I got to the end of the dark corridor, I noticed that my horrible uncle was on the phone to somebody. As I drew closer, I heard the voice of a police officer on the other end of the phone. I was so surprised that, when my uncle turned around, I didn’t even think about trying to hide. He said to me,” You have now found out my secret will you help me find your parents murderer?” I said,” I will.” Ten years later we are still looking.