Narrative essay

There it was again. She got up to investigate, walking towards the window she had the all to familiar feeling that there was someone outside her window, gently wrapping on it. But once again she was frustrated to find that there was no mystery person hiding in the bushes, beneath the flower box of creepers that hung below her window.

Five foot ten, well toned muscles, and the temperament of a cut snake. Sharon is not the kind of woman you would want to mess around with. Her brushed and styled blonde hair, that falls to the middle of her back, and the neat makeup disguise the fact that Sharon has been the welter-weight wrestling champion of her local and surrounding districts, for the past three years running.

The failed search, once again lead to the walk through the cold corridor leading down to the kitchen of her home, and taking the same meat cleaver from the top drawer under the bench, Sharon walked outside to further scan the area of her back yard. Yet again the perpetrator ...