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The Thornsville Murder Case

Date Written: October 29, 2017

“So, who at all do you think it was?”

A burly Jonas asked.

His brown moustache with rolled up ends

Had some dark burn mark masked.


“I don’t know, for sure, Inspector, sir,

But I was mowing the lawn,

When I heard some weird, muffled sound,

And came rushing, like a unicorn…”

He could say no more, the pretty boy,

With hair as bright as the sun.

With cheeks all pale, and eyes all red,

He served him tea and bun.


“So, what’s your name, kid?” the Inspector asked,

His voice all friendly and calm.

“I’m Arthur,” to it, the blonde boy said.

“I’ve served here since I was one.”


“Oh great. Now, what do you say, miss?”

Jonas asked Eline.

The middle sister of the royal household

Said, “Never have I seen

Such a dreadful thing, and in no time,”

Her voice choked as she said,

“In no time, sir, in the wink of an eye,

I saw, my sister was dead!”


“Oh my, oh my,” Jonas scratched his head.

“That’s such a terrible scene!”

And then, he turned to Duncan Steele

And asked, “Where have YOU been?”


The husband of the dead Madonna

Could barely say a thing,

And from the jumbled words he said,

Mixed with howling and weeping,

It could be made out that he was away,

Instructing men to build;

And galloped back home as soon as he

Heard that his wife was killed.


“Oh, Josephine, what happened to you?”

Duncan screeched in pain.

But Jonas asked the youngest sister,

“What was your name, again?”


“It’s Caroline,” said the prettiest girl

That Thornsville had ever seen.

“And I was at the Ball last night,

And that’s where I have been

This morning too, when all this happened,

So, Sir, can’t help you here…

But I do urge you to find out soon

Who killed my sister dear.”


“We’ll see, Caroline,” smirked Jonas, and

Sipped on his steaming cup,

“’Cause as per my autopsy notes,

It’s something else that’s up!”

The party (everyone wonderstruck)

Popped eyes at Jonas’ face,

As the chubby Inspector explained to them

The mystery of the case.


“We found a pearl , an Indian one,

In the coils of her small gut,

And bruises in her lower windpipe,

With a major nerve being cut-

So, basically, she had been dressing herself

In pearls, and gold, and sheer,

And as she tried to bite the thread,

She swallowed the glistening sphere.

The clumsy knot bummed her so much

That she tried to do it on her own,

And as she cut it with her teeth,

The pearl went in- she was gone.”



“That’s awful!” cried everyone in unison,

But Duncan was morose;

And Jonas patted him on the back

And said, “The case is closed.

The shiny ball made all its way

Through Josie’s royal pipe,

And cut her little sympathetic nerves

And that’s what took her life.” 




Later that night, a red-gowned figure

Strolled the moonlit halls,

On his neck was a tied-up thread

Of shimmering, bright, white balls!


He sat beside the ornate mirror,

His wig tickling his chest.

He combed his false tresses with a brush

And felt a hand against his breast-

Cold, but soft, with skin all  pale,

The pageboy caressed his neck,

And whispered (lips against his ears),

“That’s one less pearl. Did you check?”


Duncan laughed out loud and clear,

His red lips gleaming bright,

“Oh little, sweet pea, Arthur dear

Hold me a bit more tight-

It’s you, my boy, it’s always been you,

Not the old hag, Josephine;

A poisoned string to sow the wreath

Did kill my wifey queen!

And Arthur, oh dear, I owe you so

For feeding her the pearl

A while after she breathed her last.

God, I hated that girl!”


The pretty boy ran his fingers up

The thighs of his loverman

He kissed him on his lips and said,

“Finally, our story began!”



                                                                                                                                                                                      Dwaipayan  Atarthy   

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