Writers-Acadamy

So, I just received the body. The only things I knew beforehand were that the deceased was a prominent athlete and that his murderers were sending him to me. I don't know whether they murdered him due to his skills or other unknown reasons, but I don't need to know. However, judging by the stab wound and the third-degree burns, I'm willing to bet it was somewhat personal. Fortunately for them, so long as I get paid, I won't ask questions. And boy, did I get paid this time. Apparently, the people who commissioned me are extremely wealthy since they somehow managed to buy an Amazon truck look alike to deliver the body discreetly, as well as throw in a fat envelope of unmarked bills. And I'm not going to lie, I was slightly impressed. Not only from the fake Amazon truck but how much they gave me. I have enough to pay off the rent, for the materials for this burial, and a bit

Jay opened his eyes, looking up at the popcorn ceiling he was lying under. He didn't need to look at the clock to know it was late in the afternoon. He sighed, realizing that he had missed his online class lecture again. Jay slowly sat up, rubbing his cheek, trying to convince himself to get out of bed. Even though it had only been a week since he finished his last commission, his funds were running low again. He would need to do another commission. Hopefully, one higher paying than the last one and one that required less effort. Sitting up with a groan, he cradled his forehead. Looking over at his dresser, which was in the middle of puking up papers and socks, covered in many different glasses, filled with either ancient cold coffee sludge or lukewarm water, he finally gets up. Stumbling around his room, he walks down to the kitchen, slamming his foot accidentally against the only kitchen chair. "Ffffffffffffffff-" Jay starts to yell out when he's interrupted by the doorbell's loud

My name is Herman Fontaine. I am 29 years old and live in Ocala Florida with my girlfriend of three years, Sylvia Ramsey, several dogs, cats, turtles, and a couple of capybaras. I am running out of time, and there's no one left on the research vessel Hidden Minnow. Everyone is dead except for me. Though that's going to change pretty soon. Part of me doesn't want to relive this day. I just want to slip into unconsciousness, unaware of the danger lying underneath the floating driftwood I'm stuck on. But I know I can't do that. I can't let others go through what I and everyone onboard did. So, please listen to how we came across something that should have stayed hidden. I am...no, not anymore...I was a successful ocean photographer and I used to love the ocean. No, love isn't right. Obsessed would be a better term. From the first time I saw the sea in person at twelve years old, I knew I had found something that would play a vital role in my life. The sound of the waves periodically