The Library Labyrinth People from every country and culture are flying by. The sidewalk seemed to overpower me with people and suck me in. There is a unique buzz through the air as the chattering people walk past. To the right there is a giant blue scaffold. As I walk by I notice the splatters of different paints and the chips from the work it has gone through. It leans on a red brick building and I notice how each brick is slowly eroding from the weather. Tiny red flakes lie on the bricks just waiting to be blown away in the wind. The intense aroma of a steak drifts in the air from the restaurant around the corner. Soon it is gone and the distinctive city smell is back. People still whiz by in taxis, limos bicycles and on foot as if I don’t even exist. The powerful July heat bounces off the roasting pavement. When I turned the next corner, a short man dressed in rags was sitting against the wall, his greasy hair blew in the breeze as he stared me down. Finally I had reached my apartment. I made my way up to my room where I gazed out the window into the river of people in the street. I looked past the bakery and the bike shop to the library like I had hundreds of times in the past. Except this time I saw a gray haired man exiting from the back door. He looked both ways as he crept into the ally behind the library. I quickly grabbed the binoculars from my nightstand drawer. By the time I found them, he had slipped away behind a dumpster. I had always known that back door to be locked because I have been to the library before. I soon forgot about the suspicious man and began my homework. My mother called me for supper when I had finished my last math problem. “Christian, you will help your mother with the dishes before you go back upstairs”. I groaned in annoyance. She had always told me to wash the dishes after we ate supper and every night I loathed doing it. I put the last white dinner plate into the cabinet and sat down on the sofa to watch television. My mother watched the six o’clock news every night; I knew there was no changing the channel. I watched the weatherman predict the weather then the sports man report who won last nights games. I soon fell asleep on the sofa. School the next day was as usual. I started with math; I was very good at it but to shy to show it during class. I have never been the athletic type so during gym I stood in the far corner in the dodge ball game. No one ever said anything to me. If they did it was, “Chris give me that ball” or “Don’t run to much Chris” in a sarcastic and demeaning tone. The rest of the school day was a blur and I walked 15 blocks home from school because I was too humiliated by other kids to take the bus. When I got home, I did my homework and slept on the sofa again waking up just in time to see the six o’clock news with my mother.Once again the weatherman predicted the weather and the sports man reported the games from last night. Just before I was going to my bedroom I heard the news broadcaster exclaim, “Emily Hudgens, a 24 year old college student has been reported missing. She was last seen leaving her house on her school break to the Manhattan Library. Police ask if you have any leads to the missing woman, contact the NYPD immediately”. I suddenly remembered the peculiar gray haired man leaving the library last night. I sprinted to my room, grabbed my binoculars and stared out the window towards the library. The breeze blew cigarette buds through the ally and litter skipped across the pavement. I kept my eye on that back door again to make sure no one came out or came in until I fell asleep. The next day was Saturday and I woke up at 7:45 as I did every weekend to get the paper for my mother. We went for a bike ride around Central Park after breakfast and did not come home until four. When we came home, we played Monopoly until supper. We ate at five thirty and cleaned up in time for the news. I paid close attention to the news section for any information on the missing woman. Sure enough the news anchor announced, “Last night at 12:05 pm, the body of Emily Hudgens was found in a dumpster behind the Manhattan Library. She was discovered with several wounds to the head. Coroners say she was killed immediately with what they believe a flat and heavy object”. Shivers crawled down my spine and the gray haired man appeared in my mind. I crept to my bedroom where I closed my door. My eyes wanted to look out the window towards the library but I wouldn’t let my body turn. Finally the courage to examine the crime scene outside my very own window came. Yellow tape surrounded the dumpster and half the ally. Men and women were in black jackets that said “FORENSICS”. They crawled on their hands and knees observing the scene. I could not stop thinking of the man that left the library that night. The next day, I woke up earlier than usual to get a closer view of the Library. I hopped the fence in the corner of my property to look inside the dumpster. The black bags had been taken for prints and I could see the grungy, littered bottom of the dumpster. I gave the newspaper to my mom and told her I was going for another bike ride. I grabbed my binoculars, a pen and notepad from the nightstand in my room. When I got to the corner of the lot to look at the dumpster again, I nearly passed out. The gray haired man I saw the night before was walking through the ally again. He wore the same light blue jacket and navy pants. It was hard to write on my notepad because my hands were shaking in fear. I looked up from my notepad and noticed that the man was walking directly at me. I rolled behind the steel garbage can and hoped he did not see me. I heard his boots against the ally pavement as he grew closer and closer. I held my breath because my head was against the reeking can. When the man reached the fence he stepped onto the ledge of the dumpster where I was sure he would see me. I put my arms over my head and glared straight at the man. The left side of his blue jacket had read “David Kershaw” in a green patch. The man sighed and hopped off the dumpster. As soon as he entered the library I darted back to my bike and rode towards Central Park. I sat on a bench and looked over my notebook, assessing it for hours. The writing was hard to read but I could understand “Man, blue coat, pants and most importantly in all capitals, DAVID KERSHAW. I stopped at the grocer on the way home to get dinner for my mother and me. We did not eat out as much after dad died. For the most part she cooked for the two of us. Every bite I took from the pasta mom made the name “David Kershaw” ran through my head. We finished dinner and I helped my mother with the dishes again. We sat down on the sofa again to watch the six o’clock news. We ate later today and missed the weather and sports reports. The news came back after commercials and I was dieing to hear more on the death of Emily Hudgens. The anchor brought up the topic and said, “Detectives have found prints on the black garbage bags found in the dumpster. They were matched up last night to a man named David Kershaw”. The news seemed to move in slow motion when she said his name. My stomach turned and I slowly walked down the hall to my bedroom. Thoughts rained through my brain as to who Kershaw could have been, where he came from or what his business in the murder was. I fell asleep in fear and wonder. I awoke the next morning to the garbage truck dumping the apartment’s trash into the bed. As the man stepped out of his truck I suddenly recognized the blue jacket and navy blue pants. They matched exactly to the jacket and pants Kershaw wore. I ran to the living room window and wrote down my discovery on my notepad. As I sat on the sofa in front of the television, the morning news came on. The anchor exclaimed, “Another dead body has been found behind the Manhattan Library. The body of the Manhattan librarian Josh Newton was found with what coroners think a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Friends of the librarian say that he was in a relationship with Emily Hudgens who was previously murdered that week. Police and coroners have been and continue to work on gaining evidence for the killings”.Did Kershaw kill both Hudgens and Newton? I asked myself.I made myself breakfast and as I finished the last slice of toast, it hit me. Kershaw’s prints were on the black bags where Emily Hudgens was found because he was the garbage man, that’s why his uniform matches the one I saw this morning. I was surprised to hear myself saying out loud, Kershaw is innocent! I still wondered why Josh Newton was found dead. I finished my breakfast and went to my bedroom. As I walked through the hall I passed the bookshelf where mom kept the dictionaries and encyclopedias. I remembered what the news said about Emily Hudgens’ death, that she was killed by flat and heavy object. The librarian! There were countless encyclopedias heavy enough to kill Hudgens in the library. If the relationship between Emily and the librarian got heated he easily could have killed her with an encyclopedia. Then he killed himself to stay out of jail. I wrote all my information on my notepad and rushed out the door to my bike. My mother would be upset that I left without her knowing but the police had to know what I did. The streets that I knew to be overwhelming and overpowering seemed clear as I raced through on my bike. My back tire fishtailed and left a black skid mark on the pavement as I reached the Manhattan Police Station. I rushed inside and informed the Sheriff at the desk that I had a lead on the deaths of Josh Newton and Emily Hudgens. He took me into the office where I advised him of all I had discovered. One year later… I sat on the monkey bars at recess, this time not alone, I was with friends, the true friends I never had before. Ever since the NYPD gave me credit to the conclusion on the deaths of Hudgens and Newton and the innocence of David Kershaw, I had people that wanted to spend time with me. We went places and did fun things. The murder changed my life. The people that once ignored me in the streets and made me feel like I didn’t exist where getting out of my way. I felt in control, I was the owner of the sidewalk.
People from every country and culture are flying by. The sidewalk seemed to overpower me with people and suck me in. There is a unique buzz through the air as the chattering people walk past. To the right there is a giant blue scaffold. As I walk by I notice the splatters of different paints and the chips from the work it has gone through. It leans on a red brick building and I notice how each brick is slowly eroding from the weather. Tiny red flakes lie on the bricks just waiting to be blown away in the wind. The intense aroma of a steak drifts in the air from the restaurant around the corner. Soon it is gone and the distinctive city smell is back. People still whiz by in taxis, limos bicycles and on foot as if I don’t even exist. The powerful July heat bounces off the roasting pavement. When I turned the next corner, a short man dressed in rags was sitting against the wall, his greasy hair blew in the breeze as he stared me down. Finally I had reached my apartment. I made my way up to my room where I gazed out the window into the river of people in the street. I looked past the bakery and the bike shop to the library like I had hundreds of times in the past. Except this time I saw a gray haired man exiting from the back door. He looked both ways as he crept into the ally behind the library. I quickly grabbed the binoculars from my nightstand drawer. By the time I found them, he had slipped away behind a dumpster. I had always known that back door to be locked because I have been to the library before. I soon forgot about the suspicious man and began my homework. My mother called me for supper when I had finished my last math problem. “Christian, you will help your mother with the dishes before you go back upstairs”. I groaned in annoyance. She had always told me to wash the dishes after we ate supper and every night I loathed doing it. I put the last white dinner plate into the cabinet and sat down on the sofa to watch television. My mother watched the six o’clock news every night; I knew there was no changing the channel. I watched the weatherman predict the weather then the sports man report who won last nights games. I soon fell asleep on the sofa.
School the next day was as usual. I started with math; I was very good at it but to shy to show it during class. I have never been the athletic type so during gym I stood in the far corner in the dodge ball game. No one ever said anything to me. If they did it was, “Chris give me that ball” or “Don’t run to much Chris” in a sarcastic and demeaning tone. The rest of the school day was a blur and I walked 15 blocks home from school because I was too humiliated by other kids to take the bus. When I got home, I did my homework and slept on the sofa again waking up just in time to see the six o’clock news with my mother. Once again the weatherman predicted the weather and the sports man reported the games from last night. Just before I was going to my bedroom I heard the news broadcaster exclaim, “Emily Hudgens, a 24 year old college student has been reported missing. She was last seen leaving her house on her school break to the Manhattan Library. Police ask if you have any leads to the missing woman, contact the NYPD immediately”. I suddenly remembered the peculiar gray haired man leaving the library last night. I sprinted to my room, grabbed my binoculars and stared out the window towards the library. The breeze blew cigarette buds through the ally and litter skipped across the pavement. I kept my eye on that back door again to make sure no one came out or came in until I fell asleep.
The next day was Saturday and I woke up at 7:45 as I did every weekend to get the paper for my mother. We went for a bike ride around Central Park after breakfast and did not come home until four. When we came home, we played Monopoly until supper. We ate at five thirty and cleaned up in time for the news. I paid close attention to the news section for any information on the missing woman. Sure enough the news anchor announced, “Last night at 12:05 pm, the body of Emily Hudgens was found in a dumpster behind the Manhattan Library. She was discovered with several wounds to the head. Coroners say she was killed immediately with what they believe a flat and heavy object”. Shivers crawled down my spine and the gray haired man appeared in my mind. I crept to my bedroom where I closed my door. My eyes wanted to look out the window towards the library but I wouldn’t let my body turn. Finally the courage to examine the crime scene outside my very own window came. Yellow tape surrounded the dumpster and half the ally. Men and women were in black jackets that said “FORENSICS”. They crawled on their hands and knees observing the scene. I could not stop thinking of the man that left the library that night.
The next day, I woke up earlier than usual to get a closer view of the Library. I hopped the fence in the corner of my property to look inside the dumpster. The black bags had been taken for prints and I could see the grungy, littered bottom of the dumpster. I gave the newspaper to my mom and told her I was going for another bike ride. I grabbed my binoculars, a pen and notepad from the nightstand in my room. When I got to the corner of the lot to look at the dumpster again, I nearly passed out. The gray haired man I saw the night before was walking through the ally again. He wore the same light blue jacket and navy pants. It was hard to write on my notepad because my hands were shaking in fear. I looked up from my notepad and noticed that the man was walking directly at me. I rolled behind the steel garbage can and hoped he did not see me. I heard his boots against the ally pavement as he grew closer and closer. I held my breath because my head was against the reeking can. When the man reached the fence he stepped onto the ledge of the dumpster where I was sure he would see me. I put my arms over my head and glared straight at the man. The left side of his blue jacket had read “David Kershaw” in a green patch. The man sighed and hopped off the dumpster. As soon as he entered the library I darted back to my bike and rode towards Central Park. I sat on a bench and looked over my notebook, assessing it for hours. The writing was hard to read but I could understand “Man, blue coat, pants and most importantly in all capitals, DAVID KERSHAW. I stopped at the grocer on the way home to get dinner for my mother and me. We did not eat out as much after dad died. For the most part she cooked for the two of us. Every bite I took from the pasta mom made the name “David Kershaw” ran through my head. We finished dinner and I helped my mother with the dishes again. We sat down on the sofa again to watch the six o’clock news. We ate later today and missed the weather and sports reports. The news came back after commercials and I was dieing to hear more on the death of Emily Hudgens. The anchor brought up the topic and said, “Detectives have found prints on the black garbage bags found in the dumpster. They were matched up last night to a man named David Kershaw”. The news seemed to move in slow motion when she said his name. My stomach turned and I slowly walked down the hall to my bedroom. Thoughts rained through my brain as to who Kershaw could have been, where he came from or what his business in the murder was. I fell asleep in fear and wonder.
I awoke the next morning to the garbage truck dumping the apartment’s trash into the bed. As the man stepped out of his truck I suddenly recognized the blue jacket and navy blue pants. They matched exactly to the jacket and pants Kershaw wore. I ran to the living room window and wrote down my discovery on my notepad. As I sat on the sofa in front of the television, the morning news came on. The anchor exclaimed, “Another dead body has been found behind the Manhattan Library. The body of the Manhattan librarian Josh Newton was found with what coroners think a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Friends of the librarian say that he was in a relationship with Emily Hudgens who was previously murdered that week. Police and coroners have been and continue to work on gaining evidence for the killings”. Did Kershaw kill both Hudgens and Newton? I asked myself. I made myself breakfast and as I finished the last slice of toast, it hit me. Kershaw’s prints were on the black bags where Emily Hudgens was found because he was the garbage man, that’s why his uniform matches the one I saw this morning. I was surprised to hear myself saying out loud, Kershaw is innocent! I still wondered why Josh Newton was found dead. I finished my breakfast and went to my bedroom. As I walked through the hall I passed the bookshelf where mom kept the dictionaries and encyclopedias. I remembered what the news said about Emily Hudgens’ death, that she was killed by flat and heavy object. The librarian! There were countless encyclopedias heavy enough to kill Hudgens in the library. If the relationship between Emily and the librarian got heated he easily could have killed her with an encyclopedia. Then he killed himself to stay out of jail. I wrote all my information on my notepad and rushed out the door to my bike. My mother would be upset that I left without her knowing but the police had to know what I did. The streets that I knew to be overwhelming and overpowering seemed clear as I raced through on my bike. My back tire fishtailed and left a black skid mark on the pavement as I reached the Manhattan Police Station. I rushed inside and informed the Sheriff at the desk that I had a lead on the deaths of Josh Newton and Emily Hudgens. He took me into the office where I advised him of all I had discovered.
One year later…
I sat on the monkey bars at recess, this time not alone, I was with friends, the true friends I never had before. Ever since the NYPD gave me credit to the conclusion on the deaths of Hudgens and Newton and the innocence of David Kershaw, I had people that wanted to spend time with me. We went places and did fun things. The murder changed my life. The people that once ignored me in the streets and made me feel like I didn’t exist where getting out of my way. I felt in control, I was the owner of the sidewalk.