Original Version:

The Experiences of Loveday Brooke, Lady Detective:

The Black Bag Left on a Door Step by Catherine Louisa Pirkis

https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/pirkis/brooke/brooke.html\

Recreation of Original Cover:

Wonder Words Ghostwriting Sample Version:

Dunkirk’s Detectives Re-Imagined by Patrick Wooten

New Premise:

Brooke Loveday and her siblings have earned a reputation for themselves around town. They seem to always be getting into some sort of mischief.

All is assumed this little rowdy crew are the ones creating the ruckus. But when the dust settles, they’re the ones solving the many mysteries of their small town and surrounding areas.

This leaves many people still scratching their heads to this day and wondering about those Dunkirk Kids.

Wonder Words Ghostwriting Version Book Cover:

Re-Imagined Version:

Crisp cool air filled the morning with delight. Sunlight had barely found it’s way over the horizon. Remnants of steam rolled along the vacant street as if some weird supernatural force were in play. A dog started to bark uncontrollably at something in the distance, as if it was about to have a violent fit. His collar had a named spelled in fancy letters, ”Blue.”

On a nearby bench an old man stirred from his drunken stupor. The louder blue barked, the more he wanted to kick the dog. He kept pulling the newspapers from his coat to stuff into his ears to stop the noise, ”Damn dog, shut the hell up, can’t a man get some shut eye around here.”

Off in the distance a swishing and grinding sound got closer, until finally a fresh splash of water exploded onto the man trying to sleep on the bench. ”Alright, that’s it what the fuck. It’s like nobody wants Moe to sleep?” said old the bum. He was a skinny old white man. His skin had a really deep tan from being outside and exposed to the elements all these years. Adorned on his face was decades of wear worn brought on by a hard life.

Moe reached for his whiskey then proceeded to tilt it back to drink the tiny bit which remained before busting it in frustration. In the process of doing this he cut his palm on the pavement. As the street dweller was fooling around in his bag for a rag to tie off his hand to stop the bleeding; he exited from his tunnel vision and hearing as his eyes focused on something in the distance.

When this happened all of the sound came at him hitting him like some bad music. For a 70 year old man he had good vision. But he was drunk, he yanked his glasses from his shirt pocket. Moe started walking towards what he was watching the dog bark at. With each step his heartbeat raced more rapidly. Before him his eyes gazed upon a broken old bus bench that none of the other bums ever slept on. Laying on the bench was an opened up black bag. It was very large, probably 8ft long, he’s never seen such a bag and there was something inside it. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

A smell hit his nose when he got about a dozen feet away from the bench. There came a point where he had to put his hand over his nose and mouth because it got so bad. He almost vomited. It was like a thick cloud of decomposition and he must have stepped into it.. Flies, maggots and other creepy crawlies were making themselves known. Moe was only right about this guess because he’s found other homeless people dead before but it’s been rare over the years in the small town of Dunlap, TN.

The town drunk slipped his hand into his pocket pulling out a small facemask to try to blunt the smell from hitting his nose. Stepping closer once more, this barely helped as he was wanting to toss his cookies and cream from the other day more so. All the while he’d been trying to wrap his palm up because it was bleeding profusely. By the time he started poking at the seven foot long bundle of covers which laid before him, his makeshift bandage had come loose and started dripping blood all over the corpse.

Normally how Moe handles these situations is he’ll slowly poke at or shake the people who he’s found like this before. But this is the first time he ever did it with blood all over his hands; and thus leaking it all onto the dead body. With a deep breath he pulled the covers back,” Ah shit.” Via an odd tilt to his head, Moe couldn’t help but think he’d seen the man on the bench before.

And he had, he knew he had. A couple weeks back there was a 7ft tall stranger going around town with pictures and asking questions as if he were looking for someone. The homeless man couldn’t help but wonder if this was an accident or if he found a truth he should’ve not stumbled across thus causing his death. 

Ben Loveday was sitting and reading a copy of his tattered and torn issue of Football Illustrated from 1949. It had been given to him as part of his 15th birthday as a gift. He’d probably thumbed through those pages a thousand times looking at all of the plays. His sister Brooke was reading the local newspaper and trying to solve a crossword puzzle at the same time. Both were seemingly jarred from their zone of comfort; being lost in their reading. ”Oh my God! He killed a man, do you see it? He’s got blood all over his hands!” screamed a teenage girl with panic.

It didn’t take long before the eyes of the twins locked, and then shot over towards the scene of the crime. While everyone was rushing over to the scene, brother and sister took it all in just for a moment, then slowly got up. They wanted to take as much in as possible of the immediate scene before walking over to it. Looking at the people and items already there. In some ways while it all was happening at a normal speed for everyone else. The situation was happening in slow motion for Ben and Brooke.

After everyone had poured out of the diner and onto the street near the bench, the brother and sister were near the back of the crowd; but slowly making their way to the front until they were able to see the body. That’s when they saw Moe the bum who had blood all over his hands on his knees looking up and back at everyone in a panic. He rushed to his feet and fled the scene of the crime.

To be continued….