After reading the first chapter of In Cold Blood, I felt very scared–Truman Capote has done a splendid work on describing a spine-chilling crime scene. Take for example
Kenyon was over in a corner, lying on a couch. He was gagged with adhesive tape, and bound hand and foot, like the mother—the same intricate process of the cord leading from the hands to the feet, and finally tied to an arm of the couch. Somehow, he haunts me the most, Kenyon does. I think it’s because he was the most recognizable, the one that looked the most like himself—even though he’d been shot in the face, directly, head on. He was wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans, and he was barefoot—as though he’d dressed in a hurry, just put on the first thing that came to hand. His head was propped by a couple of pillows, like they’d been stuffed under him to make an easier target.
This sentence freaks me out because the picture of his face was so clear in my head. I kept on reading and stopped when I wanted to go to toilet.
Walking out in the dark, I dare not looking at the couch at the end of the room. How haunting the experience was.
Next morning I was woken up by a strange sound of someone working laboriously in the bathroom. I got up and looked, only to find my flatmate and the flood in the bathroom. I was shocked and confused, but managed to keep calm.
Water slowly went down the pipe, at ten, I went to a supermarket to buy a mop’s sponge and squeegee plus other necessary objects for cleaning up the mess.
Coming back home, I took the wet carpet out to dry and started to clean the mess. A friend told me that it happens when it rains heavily or when the drain is clogged. I followed her instruction and pump the pipe until I made sure that no nasty surprise gonna wake me up again.
