Доминик Батлер (Dominic Butler)Murder in the Fog
by Dominic Butler
(Adapted book. Elementary level)
CHAPTER 1
Murder in the Fog
I do not remember my name.
This is the first thing that I think when I wake, and I look around nervously, confused by the dark and by the thick fog which surrounds me.
I raise a hand to my face and feel a short nose and a small mouth. I try to remember my face, I try to remember the colour of my hair or what my eyes look like. I try to remember anything, but I cannot! I have no idea who I am.
I am on the ground lying on cold grass which is wet from the fog, and I am alone.
Why am I here? I ask myself, but I have no answer. I do not even know where this is because the fog is so thick that I can only see for a few metres in any direction.
I try to stand, but then I realise that my head hurts and that there is a sharp pain behind my right ear. I carefully lift my hand and touch the large lump which is there. It hurts to touch, and I shout in the fog, the sound lost in the dark of the night. When I pull my fingers away, they are wet, and even with no light the blood is bright and easy to see.
I begin to feel more than nervous now: I begin to feel scared. I imagine I can see shapes and figures in the fog, and I want to run. I feel that I need to run, that there is somewhere I must be, somewhere I must remember.
But before I move, I need to know something. So I push myself up and sit on the ground. I look carefully at my clothes, but they mean nothing. The jeans are new, but now they are dirty: muddy stains cover the legs from the wet grass. The t-shirt is not familiar either: just simple and black. So I empty my pockets, and at first there is nothing helpful there: no wallet, no keys and no phone. But then I see the picture, and I stop.
It is a woman, and even in the dark and the fog I recognise her. Her long blonde hair is beautiful, and her kind, friendly, blue eyes are perfect. Yes, I know her! And the thought is so strong that I smile despite the pain in the back of my head.
But what is her name? I pull the last item from my pocket. It is a red serviette with a single word written again and again in black ink.
"Catherine," I say quietly into the fog, and the sound of my voice seems strange and cold.