Where is she? Alex Shipperley R12
Where is she? I ran frantically around the two-bedroom bungalow in search of the one person who is most important to me – my mother. I went to visit her, like I do every week, I had looked around the whole house and she was nowhere to be seen. I had spoken to her neighbours but they had not seen her for at least two days which was unusual as she rarely went out, especially not for longer than a day, because she was very old and frail.
I had a terrible feeling that I knew where she had gone, or I should say who had taken her… Just three months ago a new, mysterious mass surveillance programme had been put into action and a large number of people had gone missing for no apparent reason. Many had questioned why it had been created and introduced. For weeks I had been pondering, what or who they are looking for? But now, I’m even more eager to know why. My mother’s life could be at risk.
The next day, I returned to my mother’s glowing, white house in search of any evidence to suggest why she had been taken. I went into the fairly large lounge first, it was bright and empty. There was a long leather lounge chair which nearly filled the stretch of the room. I sat on it and I sunk into the sofa, like a rock would sink if dropped into the ocean. I looked around, there wasn’t much in there except a medium sized television on a beige stand, along with an abundance of old CDs piled on the middle shelf. Nothing found, I then shifted into the kitchen, searched a couple of draws, with no luck, and I rummaged through some papers on the thick, wooden table but it was no use. I took a few minutes to gather my scattered thoughts and I then remembered about my favourite room in the whole house, the office.
As soon as I walked into the office I could smell the varnish that had been freshly applied, it was one of my favourite smells, and I also, just for a second, thought I saw someone sitting in the scarlet leather chair at the desk. However, no one was there, it was my father I thought I saw, and it was his office when he was alive. At that moment, I remembered how organised he had been and how he had strongly encouraged my mother to be the same. “Being organised, means being prepared for anything life throws at you.” My father once said, this made me realise my mother must have kept all of her important documents and files in that very room, all in the places it should be.
At that instant, I sped over to the immense, oak cabinet where I knew all of the important things were kept. It was all kept alphabetically , but I leaped straight into the middle, there was no time for organisation. My father would have been disappointed. M, the first file I pulled out was labelled M for ‘Medical files’, firstly my father’s, which I knew wouldn’t be much use, so I went directly to my mother’s and started scanning the typewritten text on the off white paper. I read it again. And a third time. I still could not believe what I was reading… My mother, who I had known my whole life and yet never realised this, could read minds. She had been tested when she was just 9 years old and tested positive for this mind blowing skill. At that moment I then started shifting through other files and I stumbled upon a file called ‘Highly Confidential Government Files’ which alarmed me. The woman who I had only known as a quiet yet caring lady had in fact been a ‘spy’ for the government of Russia in the 2030s and she had only been 24 years old when she started. Subsequently, it all became clear. That’s what they have been looking for. Anyone with insight knowledge of the government’s confidential problems of our own country, the United States of America. The mass surveillance, the people disappearing, maybe there are more people who can read minds, just like my mother…
The air was fresh, it whipped past my face as I walked briskly towards the colossal, cube shaped building. It was the main headquarters. It was the only way I could think of getting my mother back, so I went through the doorway, the laser eye detectors did not recognise my identity as someone who is allowed to enter the building – so two very smartly suited men had to escort me to the front office area. I told them that I knew why people were disappearing, and then the two men grabbed my arms very tightly and dragged me into a glass elevator which whizzed upwards and when the doors glided open, I saw a man who resembled a walrus in a suit. He was slumped into a huge, black leather chair, but turned to face me as I was hauled across the magnificent marble floor. The man glared deep into my eyes, I have deep blue eyes just the same as my mother. Anyone who knew my mother’s eyes, would know I am her son.
Just as I thought , he knew. He could see my mother’s eyes, which, most importantly, meant he knew my mother and where she was. His first words were,
“Do you know who I am?”
I replied, “No, but I know you have my mother.”
He screeched “Preposterous! You know nothing boy, let it go, leave and never return here again. Guards, chuck him out.”
“No!” I yelled at the top of my voice, “I know my mother’s secret. The mind reading, the people mysteriously disappearing, so you either tell me where she is or else…”
The double chin on the obese man resembled jelly as it wobbled up and down whilst he laughed, “What are YOU going to do about it?”
I hissed, “Tell the world about the spies and people will listen because it’s not just me who has noticed the disappearances…”
“Exterminate him. Get rid of him.” The walrus-man commanded.
I reached for my penknife which I carry round for protection; I plunged the small but lethal blade into one of the guards abdomen and slashed the other’s throat which enabled me to dash into the glass elevator. It whizzed down, and as soon as the doors cracked open I ran. I ran to my car which was not far away, and sped away from the silver building. But the same question was on my mind, what was I going to do now? 