Blog #3- Rear Window

Following the discovery of Officer Wilkes Stephanie worked diligently until the wee hours of the morning. She was like a mad woman; constantly peeping through her broken blinds to see what was happening on the streets of her city. Cutting up newspapers and pinning things together with string like she was a cop or a crazy conspirator.

Finally at 4am she passed out at her kitchen table on top of a pile of massacred newspaper.

By the time the sun rose Stephanie managed to crawl her way to the moth-eaten chair by the TV for a more comfortable and somehow more convenient place to sleep than her bed that was three steps further.

Suddenly Stephanie woke up, lurching out of the dingy chair. Another vision: On the news the anchor was announcing that the search for Mr. Evans Killer had gone cold.

Stephanie fumbled for the remote, hitting it against her palm to get the batteries to work. Sure enough, there was the same news anchor with the scrolling caption "LOCAL MURDER MYSTERY TURNS UP COLD"

Without hesitance Stephanie shoved her thick- woolen sock clad feet into a pair of flip flops and ran out of the door.

'Quick, don't let anyone see you!' Stephanie thought to herself as she darted through the lobby full of possible cultists. "There has to be something left," Stephanie muttered under her breath on her way to search spot 303 up and down for any clue, anything that would open the case again--- or at least get journalists interested.

Hours passed and Stephanie was still circling the parking lot---
"Excuse me, Ms. Lovett? This may seem like an odd question, but do you know anything about the death of Mr. Evans?"

At that moment, caught in surprise Stephanie ran under the cover of the dented metal awning of the parking garage. There, ignoring the calls of the man yelling down to her, she spotted piece of paper.

At closer glance Stephanie realized that it was in fact a polaroid picture and not only that, there was a phone number printed in black ink across the bottom. Just then her friend from the parking deck ran up behind her.

"Is... is that Mr. Evans?"

Blog #2- Trust No One

Stephanie was a wreck. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat. All she could think about was poor Mr. Evans and all of the people who killed him. All of them pretending like they were sad or trying to bring justice to the situation.

Stephanie parted her patchwork curtains and stared outside at the damp sidewalks glistening in the sunshine. Several things crossed her mind in the aftermath of the storm. "I've seen injustice," she thought, "Chicago, thats a messed up place. Police brutality, gangs, but this, this is worse than I could have imagined." Stephanie looked with horror at the town she once admired for its lack of, well, anything now scared her more than her past in the city.

"How could they all have done this?" She tried to think of an explanation, anything that might justify a murder, but she couldn't. What Stephanie saw that night was absolutely terrifying. Not one, not two, but seven people were there when Mr. Evans was murdered. "And there must be more," she deduced. In her vision the shortest one made a call, telling whoever was on the other line the 'deed' was done.

All Stephanie could think about was what what sweet Mr. Evans could have done to make a group of people: a cult, want to kill him.

As Stephanie sat by the window lost in thought, footsteps approached the door. "Who lives in apartment 201?" the officer Wilkes asked his sergeant. "Uhh says here a Miss Stephanie Lovett."

"Geez forget it. She's crazy."

At that moment Stephanie snapped out of her daze and heard the voice of the officer. She knew that voice from the phone call in her vision.

She ran across the apartment and threw the door open just in time to see the pair round the corner. Stephanie knew: Officer Wilkes wasn't looking for Mr. Evans killer, he was looking to quiet anyone who might know something about his dirty secret.

Stephanie didn't know who she could trust, but she knew for the time being she needed to stay quiet and "crazy" to avoid ending up like Mr. Evans.

Blog #1- The Good-For-Nothing Psychic

The day started with Stephanie waking up in a panic. It was barely dawn and the sky was lightening in color from its dark slumber. It was Stephanie's third vision that night but of course it was just another cat stuck in a tree, and at this point Stephanie assumed someone already helped it because she was useless.

Since the day she turned nineteen, Stephanie Lovett was psychic. She wasn't crazy. At least, she didn't think she was. Every time she had a vision, two seconds later said vision would come to life. No time to help; not enough time to warn anyone. Splat: the cat is dead. Boom: the branch falls on her car. She was constantly under attack by judgmental glares and hushed whispers of her town, worsened by her extreme sleep-deprivation. All of this for a useless "power" she couldn't get rid of; Stephanie felt her prospects were bleak.

"God damn it," Stephanie grumbled as she shuffled out of bed into her slippers, scratching the black mop that was her head. The clock read 3:47am.

Parched, she made her way slowly across the apartment to the kitchen where she grabbed a glass from the chipping wood cabinet above the sink and turned on the tap. Brown water again- gross.
Stephanie, still half asleep and fully aware of the top-notch amenities of the Foxberry, surrendered to her exhaustion and got back in bed.

She lay in bed fighting sleep by staring at the water stains on the ceiling, hoping that if she didn't fall asleep, maybe she could help someone before it was too late.

At exactly 5:52 Stephanie woke up again, this time screaming.

It was Mr. Evans.