Well, not only was this a short story for school, it was also a short story about a dead guy that I copied from our local cemetary. All you have to do is take some tracing paper and a crayon and use the long side to trace it. It was pretty cool. I hope you enjoy, and if u do/don't, reviews are always a help. Enjoy!

Chapter One:

"I told you! Didn't I tell you? I told them all, all right!"

Oliver could barely hear a thing for the constant screeches of the fiery individual above him. And it did not help anything that the young man would not release his vice-like grip from Olly's shoulders, sending searing pain shooting up and down his arms. Dirt and grime worked their way into Oliver's shoes until he was sure his actual shoes had long fallen off to be replaced by thick layers of mud. The awful rain storm that had just passed only added to everyone's delighted mood.

"What have you got there, Johnny?" a kind, amiable voice piped up.

And then Oliver could feel a hand grasp his sweaty hair and gently pull it up to look him in the face. A slightly obese face with a compassionate smile dancing across his lips met Oliver's weary eyes. But the expression quickly changed from pity to shock upon seeing Oliver standing there.

"Oliver Sledge?" the Governor asked in disbelief.

"Aye, sir, it's him," Johnny was saying in that smug voice of his, "I caught him robbing a convenience store, I did... again."

"Again?"

"Aye, Governor Miles, again. This would the third time this month."

Oliver so wanted to turn and smack that prim little smile right off his sharp-cut features, but refused himself the privilege of doing so. He could never tell what really happened convincingly if he was also charged of attacking his captor.

"And did you do it, Oliver?" Governor Israel Miles was already speaking to him again.

"No, sir," Olly said with as much sincerity as was left in him, "I was only there to buy some candy because my youngest sister, Jane, is turning five tomorrow. And then, sir, Johnny comes running in and tackles me, sir. I could barely tell up from down he hit me so hard again and again. And then he took me out of the store crying out 'thief!' over and over. Finally, he brought me down here to the courthouse. And that's what happened."

Governor Miles' face twisted up in deep thought as he considered both theories.

"Well, this would be the third time this has happened this month. And, Johnny Walker has always been the only one to witness it and you, Oliver Sledge, have always been the one to be buying someone some gift. Now, who am I supposed to believe if no one else ever sees either way?"

They both began to speak in unison, but were quickly silence by a warning look from Israel.

"Oliver."

He lifted his wearied, swollen eyes to his.

"You are free of charges for now, but," and here he paused to wag a warning finger in face, "If this happens just one more time this month, we'll have to lock you up until we have convincing proof you didn't do it. Understand? Now let him go."

Oliver wasted no time in ripping free of the still hostile grip of Johnny's.

"And Johnny."

Johnny cast one more baleful glance upon Olly before directing his suddenly innocent gaze to Governor Miles.

"Johnny, next time you'll have to have some witnesses so we can finally clean up this mess, eh?"

He slowly and courteously nodded his head.

"You are both free to go."

And they did just that.

"You robbed it and you know it!" Johnny whispered with hate into Olly's ear.

"I did not and you know it!" Oliver stopped and quieted his voice to a more controlled level, "Please, just quit pinning your crimes on me, Johnny. I don't want any part of this. I never did."

"And that was your mistake," he replied coolly, "Olly, come with me."

Johnny quickly seized Oliver's arm and drew him away from the other houses in the town and off into the woods surrounding it. Oliver soon found himself being dragged through what seemed like endless miles of woodland and thorns and bushes larger than the trees surrounding them. And before he knew it, he was standing on a cleared, gravel area with a few bushes here and there and a meadow across from them. But the real thing that caught his eye was the steel railroad laid out before him. It was extended endlessly in either direction. Oliver timidly stepped forward and looked either way down it. No vibrations of an approaching train nor whistle of a nearby bird. Everything was silent, and, from past year's experience, Olly knew that it was not a natural silence.

"Olly, listen," Johnny demanded from behind him. Oliver's heart was pricked with sorrow of that old nickname Johnny had given them when they were but children and playing together in his backyard. 'Olly' had been all Johnny had been able to say due to an awful lisp that he had developed from being knocked in the mouth at only three. Olly did not answer immediately, but instead enjoyed the peaceful wind that blew up his rusty, auburn hair from his dazzling emerald eyes. He was almost positive he did not want to hear what Johnny was going to say anyways.

"Oliver."

He felt compelled to reply as the heat of his demand heightened.

"Yes?"

"Olly, you're the only that knows of my crimes, right?"

Oliver now turned to face him.

"And?"

"And you haven't been able to prove anything, right?"

"Right," he admitted rather bitterly.

Johnny's eyes closed almost to slits as he grinned that wicked grin of his.

"Well," he paused to clear his throat as he came up to stand beside Oliver, "I've planned a huge crime that will defy all the others I've committed."

"Better than murder?" he asked before he knew the words were even his vocabulary.

But Johnny's eyes only squinted more in his obvious delight.

"Yes, better than murder," he replied slowly as though savoring the words, "It will defy murder and end up being many murders."

Olly turned toward him in shock.

"Johnny, no!" Oliver nearly screamed, "Not anymore! I will not allow you to kill more people! You've already murdered Catherine Johnson, Martin Mansfield, and..." Olly had to stop and take a quick breath in order to push back the rising lump, "And Walter Cochran."

Oliver remember in bitterness his old best friend. At only fourteen he had been brutally murdered by this horrible creature beside him. But, of course, Johnny had been purely innocent and blamed it on Oliver.

"Yes, and they all deserved it," Johnny went on happily causing a growing disgust to rise within me, "But they were minorities compared to what I'm going to do."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Olly asked slowly.

Johnny took a step closer until his hot breath danced across Olly's flushed cheeks. And Oliver noted in disgust that he could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"Because, Olly, I know there's nothing you can do about it except show up, try to stop me, and just get blamed for the whole thing yourself."

Oliver's face went several shades brighter, and he wasted no time in whirling away from Johnny and stalking back towards the trees. But before he actually touched the brush, an idea flashed into his mind.

"Will you do it here?" he asked, mustering up all the innocence he could.

"You're clever, Olly. I didn't bring you here to inspect the railroad tracks," he answered without turning around.

And then, somehow, Oliver knew exactly what Johnny was going to do and how. After years of watching this criminal work, there could be only one way he could commit such a crime, and to his high standards of satisfaction. The only thing that remained for Oliver to figure out was how to stop him.