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CONTEST: 'A Day in the Life.....'

ms helen
ms helen

Hello, fellow Gumshoes!

Have you ever wondered what the Morgue Assistant really does with all those cadavers? Maybe you've wondered why Preston spends all his time in the bar?

We'd like to know what really goes on during the day-to-day life of some of our most well-known townies - and this is where YOU, my fellow gumshoes, come in.

We want you to write a story about a day in the life of a Townie. You may pick ONE of the following:

Pawn Broker
Beat Cop
Morgue Assistant

This contest is open to everyone, whether subscribed or unsubscribed.


Stories must be written in either first or third person.

Stories must not be longer than 1 forum post.

One Story per detective, and you may NOT use alt detectives to submit more.

Spelling and Grammar ARE important. Remember, Spell Check is your friend!

No Plagiarism, we expect your story to be completely your own work.

Please, remember the game is set in the 1950's, so no cell phones, personal computers/laptops, etc.

Also remember this is a detective game, so some form of mystery in the story will net you extra points.

The Judges: Anikka, Develin, Fletchi, and Ms. Helen. In the event of a tie our beloved Squirrel will have the deciding vote.

1st Prize: 3 month sub + special item
2nd prize: 2 month sub + special item
3rd prize: 1 month sub + special item

Plus, anyone who posts a worthy entry (ie, NOT: i iz entering cuz i wanna win) will get a special little something too.

31st October 2010 (23:59 or 11:59 PM Server time)

Please post below if you have any questions. Please post your entry into this thread.

Good luck, all!


Hi, there! My name is Emmett Lundstrom, and I'm the friendly local tobacconeer. I enjoy my hobbies, too. My mother was an artist and potter specializing in traditional Swedish designs. I myself learned how to use a potter's wheel while still a child. I still have the enormous kiln out in the shed, and have been known to throw a vase while in the mood. It's a reflective activity and reminds me of good times.

My dad -- well, memories of my dad are unfortunately not quite so tender. He had a temper and so I learned to stay out of his way. I too have a temper -- when I see someone mistreating someone small and defenseless. For example, there was a guy who used to come into the shop and boss his kids around something fierce. And I heard he was unkind to his dog. I am a dog lover myself and that really rankled me.

Well, the guy died recently of a heart attack. My very best friend in town works as a morgue assistant and I was hanging out with him when the body came in. Robert and I really know how to share a laugh. I guess that's why I like him so much.

I'm proud of my little shop. I'm especially proud of my extensive collection of tobaccos from around the world. I have even been known to come up with my own special blends. I don't have a family, and my little hobbies mean a lot to me.

That mean guy wasn't too big. He fit okay in the kiln. For a mean guy, he made a nice blend.



Preston Grosso, was a man that many people had met, but very few had actually known. He was the son of Joseph Grosso, a traveling salesman, as well as a partially functioning alcoholic absentee father. Preston's mother, Patsy. was his main source of love and validation. On Preston's ninth birthday, his mother passed away, in a horrific hit and run accident . Joseph, sought comfort in his career expeditions, as well as the bottle. Preston, found solace in the idea of creating a family of his own, one day.

His dream began, the day he and his wife Tabitha, were blessed by the birth of their son, David. Preston, had finally found peace and fulfillment, in his role as a doting husband and father. His dream came to an abrupt end, when he came home to find, Tabitha and David brutally murdered. The Police department, as well as the entire Doylesburgh community, were sent into a frantic frenzy.

After four long years, without any strong leads, the case was closed. Preston decided he would turn his devastation, into something productive, and chose to become a beat cop. He had a hard time letting go of the suffering. Therefore, out of a fear of the unknown, he preferred suffering that was familiar. Throughout, his career he was able to bring justice, to many crime victim's families. However, never his own. Therefore, Tricky Mister's bar, became his only refuge. He became his father's son. He became a stranger who never felt at home, who didn't really want and was not really wanted, who could never belong, and must be always a little in love with death...until he met his own.

Preston Grosso, I hope you have finally found peace in your rest, amongst your life's beloved stars.


how long is one forum post and


Robert Dark. What name could be more fitting for his dark past?
Young Howard Bright grew up in the slums of Doylesburgh. At age 8 his mother died. That is, she was killed. Robert's father came home one night, drunk as a skunk. Mrs. Bright questioned him about it. Those were the last word to come out of her mouth. That night Howard's father beat his mother to death and then skipped town. Howard was left alone in his living room with his mother's corpse. From that moment on, Howard was in love with death.
Fast forward 7 years. Howard is now fifteen years old. He has run away from Doylesburgh, the cops hot on his trail. As was said before, Howard fell in love with death. He loved seeing the fresh corpse lying perfectly still. He loved the chill of the skin after it had been dead for some time. But most of all he loved the look of fear on a person's face just before they died, the recognition of what is happening, and the sheer panic that stole across their face. Howard Bright had killed many at this point. The police had just solved his latest murder and were trying to put him in jail once and for all, but Howard escaped. He had seemed to vanish into thin air.
10 years later Howard returned to Hammett Square. He had undergone a name change. Howard Bright now goes by the name Robert Dark and works as the morgue assistant at Spade Central Hospital. This is the perfect job for Dark. He can feed his addiction without getting his hands dirty, his addiction to death.


Hey, bros! My name is Robert Dark and I'm the Morgue Assistant around here. No jokes about my name, please. You might think my job is pretty dark but actually we have a lot of fun around here.

For a cluster of small towns, this area has a pretty high murder rate, and I'm not sure why. Must be something in the water! ha ha Anyway, it sure keeps me busy. I can't complain, though, not in this economy. At least I have a job!

This is actually a second professon for me. I used to be a pretty darn good dog groomer, specializing in fancy breeds. In fact, I could take your most tangled up Bichon Frise and make a perfect circle of fur around its face so that you could send it right to an AKC show and maybe win yourself a ribbon. But I got tired of all the stress. No, not the barking dogs. They were swell. But their owners...stage parents one and all!

Now it's nice and quiet here, down in the morgue. Sometimes a friend will drop by and we'll share a spot of fun. Watch out for the Tobacconeer, though. He's not quite right in the head, that one, and is always trying to steal the ashes from the crematory. I can't imagine why.

But mainly, I'm by myself. Technically, that is. Actually, I'm surrounded by folks. Even though they're dead, they're still people to me, and good company. In fact, sometimes I just close my eyes and imagine myself in a park, surrounded by all the other people who just got tired of talking.


hey, i am sorry for posting more than one story. i hadn't registered in my tiny little head the rule about one story only per person! so i wrote ms. helen and asked her to delete everything i did after the first submission. and good luck to all!

ms helen
ms helen

Hehehe, you aren't the first and you certainly won't be the last to have missed that rule in past contests :)

I'll leave all your stories up so everyone can read them but we will take your first submission as your entry, and that's the one that will be judged.

Missy M.
Missy M.

Do I get bonus points for my rapidly posted first story?! (lol, just kidding...)


oh, okay. thanks, ms. helen! :)


Hi, my name is Patricia Rudisill and I'm one of the senior staff reporters at the local paper. A few of my investigative pieces have won awards and I'm proud of my plaques and certificates. My career gives me a lot of satisfaction, especially since my parents never thought I'd amount to anything and even laughed at me sometimes while I struggled in school. Now, after all this time as a journalist, I still get a thrill every time I see my name in the paper.

I'll never forgot my first murder investigation. I stood just outside of the roped area and scribbled my notes. It was horrible, watching the draped body being placed carefully into the ambulance, listening to the mean gossip from neighbors gathered together in tight little clumps, seeing the husband, shirt and hands still bloody, being taken away in handcuffs. It didn't seem real. But I went home and wrote my piece, and later on, even got to interview the victim's parents. I felt as though I were inside of a real live throbbing story then and I've been hooked on the crime beat ever since.

Sometimes things get slow around here. I itch to write a good story and see my name in the paper and maybe even have a chance at one of the big jouranlism awards. That's how it started out, my...helping things along. Someone who was gonna die anyway. Something that was gonna get burned down anyway. Something that would make a good story.

Everybody is amazed at how I am the first reporter on scene at such times. "You have a nose for news," they say. But that's not it. It's just that I really, really love my job. It's such a thrill to see my name in the paper.


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