Lycée François Truffaut

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Crime stories 2016-2017

Publié le 30 mars 2017 par le Webmaster

Inspirés par l’étude de nouvelles criminelles de Patricia Highsmith et par son art des "surprise-endings", les élèves de 2nde 7 et 9/10 ont créé leurs propres nouvelles, en anglais ! En voici deux surprenantes.

Expect the unexpected...

Both victim and murderer

He was walking quickly, almost running, away from where he had just shattered his life. He felt terrified and satisfied at the same time. He had been planning this for months. He had finally eliminated this unbearable guy. He couldn’t stand him anymore, he had to get rid of him. On the other side of the street, what seemed like an inspector was also walking fast. He really stood out in the street with his long grey coat matched with a grey hat. He was anxious but he didn’t know why, a premonition maybe. He was going home and, as soon as he arrived in his flat, he jumped in bed, exhausted.
“I’m so tired I don’t even remember what I did today,” he thought, scratching his head. Thus he fell asleep.

He woke up early with a phone call : a job for a private eye, someone had been murdered. He wrote the details on a notebook, dressed up and got out. After a while, he realised he had forgotten to ask who was at the other end of the line. “Never mind,” he said in his mind.
John arrived at a café, a bit confused for no reason. He entered and saw his friend waiting for him.
“Hey, Philip !” John said ;
“Hey, Rick !” he responded.
“No, I’m John !” he said confused.
“Oh my God. How are you, John ?” he said.
“Fine, but... who’s Rick ?” John asked.
“Just forget it, I’m a bit absent-minded today,” he confessed.
“So, what’s up ?”
“You know what ? I finally got rid of Martin yesterday.”
“Great !” he exclaimed, “you are moving forward.”
“Thanks, it was hard. He won’t ever show up again, I hope.”
“Please stay discreet, I think police officers are searching for you.”
“Already ?!” he said surprised. “Then I must go now. Bye, Philip.”
“Bye, John,” he said sadly.
In fact, he could have stayed more, but he didn’t like long discussions, he didn’t like making friends either.

The private eye was now walking along the street, searching for the culprit, interrogating possible witnesses, when he saw someone who looked exactly like the description the mysterious caller had made earlier. When John saw the inspector, he started running into a small alley.
“How could they find me so fast ? How did he recognise me ? I should have checked if there were any witnesses,” he said, panicking.
The private investigator just had the time to cross the road when the suspect diappeared. He was now running too and, by chance, took the same alley.
“I can hear his footsteps, I must be getting closer to him.”
Suddenly, during his run, a flash through John’s mind reminded him that he had a handgun in his coat. He took it out, slowly aimed at the man. POW ! A single shot was enough. As the gun was falling, it started raining.

Later on, multiple TV channels announced that someone had committed suicide in an alley :
“The man was suffering from a split-personality disorder. He had escaped a police officer who was monitoring him. A friend of his told us that he had been dealing with it for a year and that he had recently got rid of one of those personalities. The most probable theory is that he had a fit and, thinking he was firing at a police officer, shot himself. He was both victim and murderer.”


A really good day

It was an ordinary morning at the police station. I was in the cafeteria with a donut while the guys were doing their paperwork. I closed my eyes and a few minutes later my partner Sergeant Baker said :
“Wake up, man, we need you !”
“I’ll never do your paperwork, Jim, good try !” I answered.
Stop kidding, we’ve got a crime, or almost,” he said a little angrily.

We went into the office. Captain Patrick Stacy was there, that was unusual.
“Hello, guys. I received a video on my computer – a video of a man on an impaling spike. We have to do something,” said the captain tensely.
“Oh shoot ! So, I think we have to find the culprit before the man, and the culprit will tell us where the man is,” I suggested.
“No ! We have to find that man before he dies !” shouted the captain.
“It’s up to you,” I answered.
“Ok, man, have you got an idea where a murderer can hide a man on an impaling spike ?” asked Jim.
“If I was a psychopath, which I am not, I’d hide the body in a forest ‘cause there is no-one around, or in a warehouse in the city centre ‘cause nobody would go and see,” I explained.
“Ok, we’ll begin with the forest. There’s only one forest near the city : St Lauren’s forest. You come with us, I know you like the smell of powder,” said Jim.

We went to the forest. There, there was a little hunting house. The policemen kicked the door open, shouting : “Police ! Don’t move !”
I was in the car for my “security.” Jim gestured me in and I went into the house. It was an old hunting spot which smelled of rot and I loved it, except that there was nothing there. Jim came to me and said, “The computer expert just texted me. They found the origins of the video, a warehouse in the city centre. We have to run there.” We drove there faster than we had been to the forest before and again the policemen shouted. After a minute, they all said, “Nothing here !” I came in turn and there was nothing.
Suddenly, “Oh my God !” cried Jim. “He’s here !”
And there was the man. But he wasn’t dying, he was already dead, and that’s super cool, I love that... erm... That was disgusting, sorry.
“I called the station. The video wasn’t a live but a loop. The forensic scientist is coming to examine the body,” said Jim sadly.
“Look here : the initials P.S. like Captain Patrick Stacy,” I added.
“No, it’s impossible, not the captain...” wondered Jim.
“Be clever, Jim. The captain was in a psychiatric hospital ten years ago, he may have lost his mind again. And did you see the captain yesterday ?” I asked.
“No, he was at a wedding in his family,”answered Jim.
“Don’t be stupid, Jim !” I shouted. “ He must have taken his day off to find the man and kill him, then take the video for his computer.”
“You’re right, he was strange all day today, he’s guilty. We’re gonna arrest him,” said Jim.

We went into the station and into the captain’s office.
“Captain Stacy, you’re under arrest for the murder of a man ;” said Jim.
“You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney during questioning,” added a boring officer.
“Funny !” I said.
“Really ?” Jim asked, staring at me.
“Sorry,” I answered.

I wasn’t there during the interrogation because I didn’t really care. No, I was eating a hot dog, I love hot dogs. Anyway, I returned to the station and saw Jim looking in the air.
“Good day, isn’t it ?”
“So to speak. I just arrested my captain and he won’t say anything,” Jim grumbled.
“Yeah, but we don’t need that, we know he’s guilty,” said I.
“Go and say that in front of a jury,” Jim answered.
“Ok ! I’m going home. Good night, Jim.”
“Good night Mr Peter Sarazin,” he said funnily.
I went home, or my “second” home, the bar. I love drinking and being drunk.

It was a really good day today : I killed a stranger with an impaling spike, trapped my partner and put in jail the man that I hate, Captain Patrick Stacy. That was a really good day.

Lyc�e Fran�ois Truffaut
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