A few weeks ago I took the short hike to Lake Isabelle, but found the winds were blowing hard leaving large waves on the lake and not a chance for a reflection. This ended up being a good thing because it forced me out of my lakeside comfort zone and got me looking for different compositions. I found this nice scene high up on the rocks just before the sunrise lit up the sky and peaks in brilliant colors!
Sure, red was found everywhere. From traffic lights to his sister’s eccentric fashion apparel. But he hated the color for a completely different reason.
Red was the color of blood. It was the darker shades that he hated seeing; the red so dark it was black.
“Why did I become a detective?” Dipper muttered to himself, standing next to a sprawled out body of a victim that he dare lay his golden-brown eyes on. He bit back a gag at the sight. The chest was brutally ripped open, jagged, flaky edges of pale white skin met the red of blood and muscle. The body’s lungs were showing through the opened chest and it seemed the heart had been ripped out by force and was missing. The dead victim lay in a puddle of semi-warm blood, which notified Dipper that this murder was recent and couldn’t have been committed more than thirty minutes ago.
The weirdest part about the victim was the eyes. Or rather lack of eyes. The eyeballs of the poor man had been carved out. That wasn’t where the weirdness stopped. Where each eye should be there was a giant red X over the socket and eyelids. Upon further inspection, the young man concluded that the Xs were made using a knife to dig into the skin and leave a light trail of blood to form them. His eyes quickly scanned to find a knife, but the murderer was smart not to leave any clues behind at all. In fact, when Dipper had checked for fingerprints on the door or window of the apartment, he found nothing. That left him with one clue.
The young detective’s eyebrows furrowed as he pursed his lips and stood there to ponder. Why leave an X over where the eyes should be? What was the purpose of carving an X into the body? Dipper fumbled into his bag for his sketch book and pencil, hands shaking. He took a breath, trying to relax his hands so he could properly draw this. It could be an important clue to discovering the murderer behind this. He drew an eye with a giant X across it, pausing to decide a name for this. He started to chew on the end of the pencil, not realizing it. Oh well, old habits die hard.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed, quickly scribbling out the word “blindeye” and then turning to a new page to write all the facts he knew about this murder as quickly as possible before someone new entered the room.