Hey people, I haven't been back here for a while, and I know I haven't updated my story...   I'm sorry, but I've been extremely busy this summer, and have had almost no time to do do anything about my xanga.  I shall strive to keep the story more updated.  However, I need to take a poll, how many people wants to read a long story, and how many people want this story to end in less than 5 more entries?

Let me know and I shall write my story accordingly.

Hello Hello...   after close to two months of absense, here is the next clip of the story...   guy be on back my about it...  or otherwise, i get lazy...

One of the detectives was punching something into a laptop he has placed on top of the roof of the car.  Being a college student and having spend much of my time around computers, I couldn’t help but notice something that resembles wireless networking card sticking out of one of the extension slots of the laptop.  It doesn’t look like any wireless card I’ve seen though.  The other detective, the one that acknowledged the cop, held out his hand, and said “Hi, I’m detective Lance, and he is my partner, detective Moyner.  What can you tell us about the deceased?”  I shook his hand as he was speaking.  He was squeezing my hand really hard, and I instinctively increased the force of my hand to offset the pressure.  I could swear the man was trying to test me, because as soon as I matched his strength, he let go.  Detective Lance was about 5’10, a couple of inches shorter than I, has very pale skin, a head of red hair, and was very stocky.  His waist and chest were about the same size, close to 50’, roughly estimated.  The man was basically a big tube with limbs.  Detective Moyner, on the other had, was drastically different.  This guy was black, about 6’3, and looked athletic enough to out run a fox.  Both men’s eyes were really sharp, and have this coldness to them that I’m not used to.  Even while Lance was smiling and shaking my hand, I get the feeling that the smile wasn’t genuine and that he was disconnected from the situation when I looked into his eye. 

                All these impressions and observations registered in a matter of seconds, however, my brain didn’t really process the information until much later.  “I, I think I know that guy that was dead.”  I started speaking, and noticed that my voice was still shaking a bit.  “Yes, I heard that he was your roommate.”  Lance replied.  That should have been my second warning, and yet I missed it again.  “That’s what I think…  cause that’s my roommate’s T-shirt, and watch,” I said as I pointed back at the mangled corpse, “and…” As I turned my head back to look at what I was pointing, I suddenly felt completely weak, and my knee felt like it was about to give.  I must have spun my head to fast.  I stumbled for a step, and before I had a chance to balance myself, Lance’s left hand grabbed my right elbow.  I guess he was providing balance, trying to prevent me from falling.  However, his thumb, I don’t know if its inadvertent or on purpose, rested right on the pressure point on the inside of my elbow.  If he pressed down on that pressure spot, the entire right half of my body will go numb, and I will be the at his mercy.  This time, my reaction was really pure reflex.  I curled my arm, spun it out, and took a step back away from Lance in one fluid motion.  I stopped short of taking a defensive stance, but I could see surprise written all over Lance’s face.  From the corner of my eyes, I could see detective Moyner, while still looking stoic, has taken notice of me.

Hmm...  i wonder if anyone still reads this... but here's the second part of the story...

I didn’t get far in my pondering when I heard people running through the hallway.  People run through hallways all the time, for many different reasons: to make it before the dinning hall closes, to chase the roommate that hid all your underwear, to vent the stress of studying for the exams, to show your friends a new toy you just got, and the list goes on.  However, this was different.  People were running all in one direction, and I could hear gasps and whispers of  “Really?” and “What?”  They were running with a purpose, and they were all running towards the window at the other end of the building.  If you have never seen a high rise building at U of Maryland, just imagine a bus except it is very long, 9 stories tall, and have rooms where the seats are supposed to be.  The entrances to the building are located in the middle of the hallway (length wise) on the first floor and the basement.  That is also where the lounges and the elevators are on every floor.  I lived on this side of the lounge while everyone was running towards the window at the other side of the hallway.

                “Hey Frank, did you hear?” Art yelled at me as he passed my door, barely stopping. “Someone fell off of the roof of our building.”  Art was a year older than me, and he majored in Computer Science as well.  I often asked him questions about what classes to take and stuff.  He was gone before I could react.  This would explain why people are rushing towards the one window at that end of the hallway.  By the time I made it out of my room and down the hallway, I could hear rumbling in the staircases and the sounds of sirens at a distance.  I got up behind a crowd of a dozen or so, all trying to get a look out of the 3’ by 5’ window.  It was obvious that I wasn’t gonna get close to the window to peek out at all.  I turned around and headed down the stairs as fast as I could.  I made it out of the building just as the first police cruiser and ambulance vehicle arrived on the scene.  Fighting through the circle of people, mostly guys, I found myself in the middle of the most horrific sight I’ve ever seen in my life.

                The first thing that hit me was the smell of blood.  Having a father that is an orthopedic surgeon that operates a small clinic, I practically grew up in a hospital.  After seeing a patient came in with his legs chopped off by a chainsaw, I pride myself in my ability to handle gore and blood.  However, this was far worse than anything I’ve experienced before.  Any object free falling from the top of a 9-story building, or about 100’ tall, would be traveling at speed in excess of 30 meters per second, or 67.5 MPH.  Combine that with the 180LB mass that a normal male adult has, this translated into a force of over 1500LB per square inch at the point of impact.  The pressure threshold of a human bone is at around 80LB per square inch.  Regardless of which part of the body hits the hard concrete first, mortality is almost certain.  In this case, however, it was obvious that the head hit the ground first, and death was immediate.  Where the head of the body should have been, there was just pulp.  Mixtures of hair, bone, and gray matter.  An eyeball, having survived the impact, defiantly stares at the crowd.  Much of the torso seems intact, however, it was just an illusion because of the cloth on the body.  The limbs, bent in every which direction reminded me of a puppet whose strings were cut.  Under the dim glow of the fluorescent streetlight, most of the crowd struggled to recover from the shock. 

                The circle of students was about 12 feet in radius; no one dared to brave the smell and the gore to get any closer.  Some in the crowd started to puke already.  For what felt like an eternity, I did not know how to react.  I guess the part of my brain governing feelings was still stunned.  Images were coming into my brain, but they were not being processed, only remembered.  I felt detached somehow, like this was not reality that I was looking at, but instead some figment of my imagination or a dream.  I don’t remember how long I had been standing there before the police and the paramedics showed up.  But the students were quickly being removed from the area while a police parameter was being set up.  As I was turning around to leave, something caught my eye.  It was a wristwatch, or what’s left of it.  The watch was still on the wrist of the now deceased, although at first glance, its hard to tell which arm due to the extent of the damage to the body.  Regardless, this was not an ordinary watch.  This was a limited edition Star Wars watch that resembled the Death Star.  This was the very same watch that my roommate proudly owns and wears.  My heart skipped a beat.  “… DOA… Caucasian… Male, age uncertain…” Bits and piece of the police conversation over their radio found its way into my brain.  And a realization of what had transpired exploded like a bomb in my head.  That person, lying in ruins not 12 feet away from me, dead, was my roommate.

                The hooded T-shirt with AD8D characters, the baggy jeans, the worn out sandals, these were the things my roommate was wearing when I last saw him in the morning.  I whispered under my breath “oh my God, that’s my roommate.”  Apparently, I was whispering louder than I though, because a police officer heard me, and turned towards me.  My mind was still trying to comprehend what I had just witnessed and realized, and it must had taken a while before I actually heard the police officer.  Because by the time I noticed him actually talking to me, he was yelling at me to get my attention.  “Hey, did you say that this person is your roommate?” the officer asked.

                “Well, I think so,” after collecting myself “I mean, he is wearing the exact same thing that my roommate was wearing this morning.  And that watch, my roommate is the only person I know who owns a watch like that.”

                The expression on the officer’s face was one of relieved nervousness.  I guess he was relieved because they might find out the identity of the deceased rather quickly, while he was nervous that he was about to find out that a college student had died on a college campus.  “How certain are you that those articles of clothing belongs to your roommate Dave?”

                That should have been my first sign or warning.  But I was too preoccupied to catch anything at that point.  “I am almost sure.” I replied.

                “Please come with me.  We have some questions for you.”  The police officer said as he started to walk to one of the police cruisers.  He walked me towards a couple of police that were dressed in suits rather than uniform.  The uniformed officer that walked me said to them “Detective, this here young man says he knows the deceased.”

                “Okay,” one of them replied “we’ll take it from here.”

This is what happened in the real 101 Dalmation story...