Posted in Books, Fiction

Saudi Kidnapping: A Scarlett Herring Mystery

Scarlet Herring stared out upon the steadily darkening horizon above the gently rippling Red Sea. The sea itself seemed to be sleeping. Scarlet leaned on the fence of the observation deck, just thinking. The girl with deep red hair and oval-shaped cerulean eyes was a beauty; there was no way around it. She had a thin, shapely, but well muscled, body that drew the eyes of any male onlooker. Unless you were a close friend or relative, you wouldn’t ever guess that she was one of the world’s best detectives.

            At the moment she was thinking about her upcoming vacation. For the past four years she had been living in Saudi Arabia solving crimes and other mysterious mishaps there. Now she was going to travel back to the States for a short time to visit her family in Seattle, Washington, before heading out again to Peru.

            So she was very aggravated when a large sausage-like finger tapped her on the shoulder. She sighed internally. That usually meant someone had a big case for her. There goes my vacation, she thought wearily, and I was so looking forward to it. Turning, she sized up her unexpected visitor. He was a large man; about six foot five, around two hundred pounds, handlebar mustache (fake, she noted, and not very convincing), and beady black eyes. Dressed all in crimson, he looked nearly like an over-weight Satin. He squinted menacingly, making them, if possible, even smaller.

            “If you take the job, we’ll kill you.” The near-grunt voice was close to incoherent mutters. Scarlet was extremely surprised when he lifted her and threw her over the fence into the sea below. It was about a twenty-foot drop, but she was too astounded to scream. As she kicked to the surface, she reflected. “If you take the job, we’ll kill you.” Apparently “they”, whoever they were, thought she had been confronted with a case. It must be a pretty serious deal, probably murder or kidnapping, she concluded.

            Once she climbed out of the water and dragged herself onto a rock, another man scrambled over to her.

            “Miss? Are you all right? That was quite a fall!” He was in his mid-forties, had thinning gray hair, bald in the center, about five foot three, and portly.

            “Yes, I’m fine.” Scarlet growled.

            “I was wondering, are you Scarlet Herring, international detective?”

            “I am,” She removed her shoes and rung out her socks, adding to herself, and I know why you’re asking.

            “My name is Frell Down. I have a case for you, if you’re interested. It’s a kidnapping.”

            There it is. Just like I thought. “I’m listening.”

            “It’s my son. He just turned ten, and he was kidnapped about five o’clock last night. We were outside practicing archery. I went inside for a water bottle and when I came back out, Chanden, my son, was gone! All that was left were two brown backgammon playing pieces, a coin wrapped in a blue pipe cleaner, an action figure holding a bank notification, five standard playing cards, and my son’s bow and arrow. At first I thought he was just hiding, because his bow was still strung. You see, we have a small forest behind our house, where he used to love to play hide-and-go-seek. After about fifteen minutes without finding him, I went back to the house. When I went upstairs to my bedroom to call the police, I noticed my safe was broken open and all the money gone!”

            She thought about this for a minute. “Wow. That’s quite a story. Does your son always carry trinkets like this around? Like the backgammon pieces and such, I mean. And what did the police do?”

            “My son always has little things like that in his pocket. He calls them ‘comfort items’. They have six suspects at the station but they can’t figure out who did it. They suggested I come find you and ask you to help us out. Of course, you can change clothes before you come down. ”

            She grinned and nodded. Scarlet wasn’t going to let some fat, moustached Satin keep her from solving an interesting case like this.

            After going back to her hotel room, taking a shower, and changing clothes, she drove her green Jeep down town to the police station. There she met Officer Lugnat.

            “We have six men here we believe may have something to do with the case. Deliahs Smith, Cory Teller, and John Bender are close neighbors of Mr. Down. Chase Browngammon, Joey Ferrari, and Timothy Copegold are old friends of his.”

He handed her a stack of papers. “This is all the information we could dig up about their relationship with the Downs.”

            Scarlet sat down at a table and picked up the first report.

            Chase Foley Browngammon

            College Roommate of Frell Down

Came in second to Mr. Down in a college wrestling world championship

Helped Mr. Down plant his garden

Chanden Down’s PE teacher

Known to be “fair if it kills him”

“Fair if it kills him, eh?” She snorted and picked up the next description.

Deliahs Gregory Smith

Neighbor

Son is Chanden Down’s best friend

Known for his “Happy, easy-going attitude”

“Why is he even here?” Asked Scarlet, rounding on the police officer. He muttered something about the bathroom and donuts then rushed out of the room. Scarlet shook her head and turned back to the statements.

Cory ? Teller

Neighbor

Daughter carpools with Downs

Broke

Desperate for female attention ever since wife ran away

John Bender is rumored to have told him “make some cash and you’ll get some beauties”

Known for being “suspicious and non-trusting”

 

John ? Bender

Neighbor

Broke

Known as “the guy who’ll do anything for money”

Son Carpools with Downs

 

 

 

Timothy James Copegold

Childhood friend/rival

Always second best to Mr. Down except at school

Played the drums in his band with Mr. Down, called BESTAAAH

Known as the “Music Man”

 

Joey ? Ferrari

Computer whiz

Close friend of Mr. Down ever since he [Mr. Ferrari] moved to Saudi four years ago

Never liked children

Known as “the guy who never leaves his computer unless he’s hungry or irritated”

 

Scarlet read over the reports again and walked into the room where the suspects were being held.

“You,” She pointed at Deliahs. “Go home. I have no idea why they even brought you here.” She turned to the rest of them as Deliahs let out a large breath and dashed out of the room. “I’m not through with you five yet.”

Walking back into the hallway, she found the officer. “I know where he is.”

“Where who is?”

“Chanden.”

A few minutes later, Scarlet and three officers crammed into a police car, driving to Cory Teller’s home. She had let all her suspects go after telling them she knew where Chanden was, watching for a reaction. Only Timothy twitched. If the policemen thought she was being rash and stupid, they didn’t mention it. As they pulled up to Teller’s house, she turned to the police officers. “Don’t do anything unless I tell you to. Keep you guns out, but if they tell you to drop your weapons, do so. Announce you entrance as you would any other time.”

“THIS IS THE POLICE. DON’T TRY ANYTHING.” Announced Officer Oapaka loudly as the foursome broke down the front door and stepped into the house.

Scarlet raised her eyebrows. “Is that really what you say when you break into a dangerous kidnapper’s house? ‘Don’t try anything’?”

He ignored her as four men in black ski masks and crimson clothing walked out of the kitchen holding guns. “Drop your weapons.” Ordered the largest one, who Scarlet suspected to be the moustached Satin. “Or we’ll shoot the girl.” The officers dropped the guns. “Actually, do we really need her at all? We warned her once…” He loaded his gun and Scarlet had no doubt that he would have shot her if the shorter man to his right had not stopped him.

“No, not yet! Who’s the boss? Me! They made it this far, haven’t they? They deserve a chance. All right, there are fifteen rooms in this house. If you can figure out which one the kid is in, we won’t shoot.”

Scarlet’s head was spinning so fast she could have been mistaken for someone driving under the influence of alcohol. Then she remembered something.

“Officer Lugnat, what were the five cards that were found after Chanden was kidnapped?”

“Ummm, let’s see…a ten, a jack, a king, a queen, and an ace.”

“I know exactly where he is. I also know who the leader of this little party is, where the money is, and who got semi-cold feet while the plan was being put into action. Chanden wasn’t carrying that many things in his pocket.”

Who was the leader, what room was Chanden in, where was the money, and who got cold feet? And how did Scarlet know?

 

/  SCROLL FOR ANSWERS  /

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scarlet knew that a ten, jack, queen, king, and ace were a set of card called a royal flush when playing poker. That pointed her to the bathroom, where they found Chanden bound and gagged in the bathtub. The ringleader was Chase Browngammon, because when Scarlet was about to be shot, he stopped the gunman, because he was ‘always fair if it kills him’. She had known from before that he was at least part of the scheme because Chanden had dropped a brown backgammon piece. “Browngammon”, remember? He admitted later that he was still very sore from losing the wrestling championship to Down. Apparently, the sore turned to a throbbing wound, since he had taken such a drastic action of kidnapping Down’s son. The money was at John Bender’s house, because there had been a coin wrapped in a bent pipe cleaner where Chanden had been kidnapped, because he heard them discussing it as they grabbed for him. Now, Chanden had no way of knowing where he was going, or which room he was going to be hidden in. So he could not have dropped the last two clues, the five cards or the action figure holding the bank notice. Scarlet had figured out that the action figure, representing Chanden, holding the bank note meant that he was at Cory Teller’s house, because the word “teller” means a person who works at a bank. Cory got semi-cold feet immediately after Chanden was drugged, because he thought that the other men wouldn’t give him his share of the loot, which he admitted later. Scarlet learned from the reports that Cory was suspicious and didn’t trust anyone, so he was the only one who could have left those clues. Joey Ferrari and Timothy Copegold were released with no charges, since they had nothing to do with the crime. Scarlet may have missed her flight on the day of the kidnapping, but she managed to scrape tickets for the following departure and spent three happy weeks relaxing with her family and friends, entertaining them with stories from across the world.

Posted in Various Ramblings

Various ramblings numba one

1. When I was in first grade, some kid brought a ferret to school

2. I'm bored

3. In sixth grade, I was overwhelmingly obsessed with Taylor Fisher

4.  People who think they're smart and funny but aren't bug me

5. I'm the dumbest smart person you'll ever meet

6. I'm really bored

7. Did you know that I have no intrest in golf, hockey, or frog racing what-so-ever?

8. CHEESE WILL ONE DAY RULE THE WORLD

9. I'm really, really bored

10. There's nothing better than sleeping in, dreaming of soggy waffles, and smelling the smell of your wet dogs

11. Having fun yet?

12. I didn't think so

13. Well, maybe you are

14. It must be fun listening to an imbecile rambling ON and ON about absolutly nothing

15. Hey…

16. ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT???

17. I didn't think so

18. Wait- are you?

19 Oh yeah? Well….I'll…I'll…, KARATE-CHOP YOU INTO A NAIL FILER!!!

20. How about that, punk?

21. I feel so alone…

 

 

Alright. I am done now.

Thank you and good night.

 

 

or good morning

 

 

or good afternoon

 

 

or maybe I should just shut up now

 

 

yeah, maybe…maybe…

 

 

Yes, yes, alright already! I will stop…

 

 

 

But I'll be back!

 

 

Yes, yes! I will be BAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

 

 

Note from author's doctor: Sorry, Bri is unavailable right now, because she is currently sitting in a large white room in a strait jacket, rocking back and forth and screaming random pick-up lines. She will be freed once her therapy is over. Sorry for any inconviniences this may serve. 

Posted in Teenage Life

Popular

Popular. It’s an ugly word. It’s a word we all know. It’s a word some of us live by and it’s a word some of us worship.

What does it stand for? Jock, cheerleader, high status, basically. Also, it stands for a powerful force of mind that can destroy friendships and spirits. Some of the popular status even over-power and over-rule the other “lower-status” individuals, such as myself. It’s not that no one likes us, it’s that no one wants to like us.Because we’re different. We can’t choose. We just are. And that disgusts me. Do you want to know why? Because it’s sick. Because the kids that get picked on still worship, or sometimes, even hate. And some popular status people sometimes feel so powerful, that they bring guns and weapons to school to bring down the population of “nerds” and “unpopular”. Hence, the incident that happened earlier this year. If everyone could just get along, if everyone could like people because of who they are, or because of what they stand for, not how smart they are, or how pretty they are, then the world would be worth living in, for once.

Posted in Teenage Life

Greasers and Socs: In the real world

EDIT FROM 2021: Hello there! This post is now (gulp) 15 years old, and is still randomly getting views due to being recommended on StumbleUpon way back when. Enjoy but please keep that in mind, and if you want to learn more about what present-day me, an award-winning independent filmmaker, is up to, head to BriCastellini.com.

Now, the words I use to describe my live as I know it, Socs and Greasers, may be a little dramatic. No, the “Greasers” don’t smoke, they don’t live in junky trailer parks together, and the “Socs” don’t throw beer lasts and beat “Greasers”up, -yet. But the main ideas of the two words, popularity and status, tie in with my life. Actually, it really only ties in with how my school is run. Not how the teachers run it, but how the student body runs it. So the blueprints are laid out like this:

Popular (Soc)- Cheerleader, football player, jock, friends fall from the sky.

Semi-Popular- Friends of Socs, cousins, siblings, large cliques of friends.

Wanna-Be-Popular- Distant relatives of Socs, tag-alongs, smaller groups of friends.

Don’t-Care- Unpopular, plain, ordinary people, few friends.

Unpopular (Greaser)- Nerdy, geeky, ignored, shunned one or two friends.

Drifter- Floats from one group to the next, has one to two friends in each group.

I fall in the “Don’t Care” Category. I am almost a Greaser, and sometimes I am. But I don’t think we should separate ourselves and group as these things, it’s almost as if we’re different species. I believe that we should all be equal, and status shouldn’t matter. I mean, honestly people, the only thing that separates us is our looks and athletic abilities. Stop judging our books by their covers, because the pages are pretty interesting.

I am using the terms that come from a book called “The Outsiders” by S.E. Hinton. Check it out and you’ll get my meaning of this piece a lot better.

Posted in Teenage Life

Girl

“Girl. That’s all you are. A girl.” People use it as a bad word. It’s a gender. Get used to it. What if, all of the sudden, I decided to yell out “You’re such a boy!” How would that feel? Like a pang in your stomach or a slap in the face, eh? WELCOME TO MY LIFE. I can’t HELP being a girl. It’s not like I had a choice. So stop feeding me this crap about being one. Treat me like a person, like a friend. I think I’ve earned that much. And I don’t believe that I deserve to be picked on and shunned for the mere reason of femininity. Not all of us buy into Vogue and Covergirl. Some of us aren’t Barbie dolls either, so don’t you agree that we deserve a chance to show what we can do? Because that’s my hypothesis, and you can choose to agree or disagree. But remember this, the next time you see a girl standing alone on the playground; it’s your fault. She’s there for a reason. She’s a girl.

 

Author's note: I was in a REALLY bad mood when I wrote this a year ago. But I think it's pretty good, acctually. 

Posted in Fiction

Downfall of Society

The first words of the constitution are “we the people”. As a revised modern draft would say, if ever compiled, “We the sexist, superficial, stereotyped maniacs whom are unwillingly pulled from our lounge chairs to vote and become part of the once envied freedom of the union of the United States of America”. Yes, it is true. Americans have become smug, comfortable, in their comfy little office jobs and their false assurances from the government that everyone is equal. Ha. Let me type that again. ‘Assurances from the government that everyone is equal'. Whatever idiot came up with that view of modern society hasn’t spent much time outside of his studio apartment in New York.

From my views, the only way this civilization will ever become equal is if, by some unexplainable miracle, people come to accept others, no matter how rich, poor, smart, or stupid they are, and that all the stereotypes are combined into one, standing group. Americans. Can we do it? Not in my lifetime.

Also, though it is said that women have been granted equal rights, due to the 19th amendment, are we really? No. In theory, yes, but in practice? Give me a break. If we were granted equal rights and opportunities, then the girls basketball team would have new jerseys of their own, not the leftovers from the boy’s season. Now, that has to be the greatest understatement of the inequality of women’s rights in the history of forever, but it is a legit and credible argument covering the issue described. But women’s rights aren’t the only things that are created for the mere reason of making us feel better.

I am sure that everyone has heard of the stereotypes described in schools and in everyday adult life, such as ‘nerds’, ‘jocks’, ‘skaters’, and ‘preps’. How many times has a person gone home upset or in tears because of their apparent social standing? I know I have, for one, come home at night utterly depressed about my inability to converse naturally with all people. My social stigma is nerd. As pathetic as that sounds, it is what me and about 10% of my peers have been tormented about since the day they set foot in grade school. To what purpose does this serve? It makes others less ‘nerdy’ seem superior. How unfair is that, America?

I’m not asking those who are pointed to in this article to give up all their social life for the sake of those less gifted in social events. I’m merely stating the obvious that is in all of our hearts, some of which are almost too deep to find, and I demand only one thing; respect. Respect me and my fellow ‘nerds’. Respect me and my fellow women. But most of all, respect yourselves, and so that at the end of the day, if someone were to ask you if you are proud of how you live your life, and how you treat and think of others, you will be able to answer them with a truthful… yes.