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Watch the interview now! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqFX7jjkhE8

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A Detective Mike Steward Story
By Yash Nanayakkara

It was exactly 8:02pm. Undefeated kickboxing champion Lee Chiang was in the ring, fighting to keep his title. His opponent, John Hoskins, was striving to maintain consciousness, with an injured jaw and a bloody nose.

“OUCH!” exclaimed the commentator, as Lee gave a devastating kick to Hoskins’ knee. “That must have hurt a bit!” John Hoskins was now down on his knees, with a now crippled leg. Lee just needed one kick on John’s head, and that would have been hit. A kick and maybe a punch as well for emphasis. Lee grinned with triumph, as he went onto a kicking stance and flexed his leg. Suddenly, he just fell back.

“What is this? What’s wrong with Lee? MY GOODNESS! He’s toppled to the floor!” The commentator wasn’t exaggerating. Lee Chiang was now lying dead on the floor in an inhumane pose. Spectators screamed. Hoskins looked baffled. Something had happened, and no one knew what.

***

A few miles away from the stadium, renowned detective Mike Steward sat in the Hilltop Police station listening to bad pop music and reading a mystery novel in an empty office. All the other officers had gone home, but he had decided to wait for Commissioner Bulstock to finish a few phone calls before going with him to have a drink at the Blue Booze pub. A few months ago, Mike had solved the elaborate murder mystery of Mr. Hank Lawrence, in which he was betrayed by a friend of his. That friend ended up dead, but the nerve of that betrayal was still stuck in his mind. Just as he was about to play another bad pop song on his iPod, the commissioner came running into the office. “Mike! TURN OFF THAT DISASTROUS POP MUSIC! There’s been a murder!”

“This is not bad pop mus…A MURDER!” Mike, suddenly awoken from a lazy internal slumber and got into action. “Come on Commissioner,” exclaimed Mike, as he put on his navy-blue beret and yellow coat. “Time to solve a murder.”

***

“So, Commissioner,” enquired Mike, as the black police Sedan drove off into the night, “what’s the news?”

“A kickboxer, Chiang Lee. Age 28. He apparently dropped dead in the middle of a fight, in the Town Fighting Stadium.”

“Chiang Lee!” cried Mike, astounded. “He was the best kickboxer there was! But how did he die?”

***

At the stadium, Mike and the commissioner were in the ring, next to the body of the dead kickboxer. The fighting ring was encapsulated in yellow tape, while reporters with flashing cameras struggled outside the tape inside a large crowd of people. Suddenly, Mike and the commissioner witnessed a dishevelled man sliding under the police tape and striding towards them.

“Sorry gentlemen, if my attire is unsuitable,” said the man. It was evident that he had been pummelled about while wading through the mob of distraught reporters and people. “My name is David Rodriguez, owner of this kickboxing stadium, and organiser of this fighting event.” He stuck out his hand. Mike took it.

“Mike Steward. Detective from the Hilltop Police department. This is Commissioner Bulstock.” The commissioner waved.

“How do ya’ do, bud?”

David forced out a light laugh.

“Mr. Rodriguez, do you have any idea as to how Mr. Lee here might have died?” enquired Mike.

“No. None at all. Lee was healthy, strong. No illnesses. But during the championship today, he just dropped dead on the floor. Took everyone by shock. I mean, he seemed so fit when I gave him a drink of orange juice before the fight to get his adrenaline up.”

“Hmmm…” thought Mike.

“Seems pretty uncanny. A star kickboxer of peak health, just dying here and there. Looks like foul play to me,” said the commissioner. He took another look at the dead body lying in a frightening angle, with Lee’s legs tucked under the ever so slightly pale body. “Yep, definitely uncanny.”

Mike rolled over the body and examined it. “No bullets or darts or any other punctures in the skin. He wasn’t killed during the fight, which means…”

“Ah!” exclaimed the commissioner, “he was poisoned!”

“Exactly. Mr. Rodriguez, I am authorizing an autopsy on the body of Lee Chiang. We need to confirm whether he was poisoned or not.”

“Yes, yes, of course…” replied Rodriguez, and walked away.

“In the meantime, Commissioner,” Mike turned around to face the commissioner, we need to find out who would have a motive to kill Chiang.”

***

Back at the police station, Mike was racking his brain to find a suspect. He had looked through Chiang’s previous fights in the tournament, to see who might be jealous of Chiang to the extent of putting poison into his drink, or perhaps putting some poison powder into his food. Even though the previous ten fighters had looked vicious, further in-depth research showed that they had no personal grudges against Lee. Also, all of them had never fought with Lee before the tournament in any other events, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would go through the trouble of murdering him when they didn’t even know him much.

Commissioner, this case is an intricate one. Why would someone want to murder Lee? He was just a kickboxer…” Mike flipped through more documents. All of a sudden, Mike came across John Hoskins’s details. His eyes opened wide, and his brain went into hyperdrive.

“Commissioner, we have to meet the other finalist in the tournament, NOW.”

Mike got out of the black Sedan, along with Commissioner Bulstock, right outside a rather impressive mansion.

“The mansion of John Hoskins,” whispered the commissioner in awe. A fountain in the center of the ground surrounding the mansion resembled the fighter himself, John. At that precise moment, a gush of water was spewed out from the fountain mouth.

“Don’t be too dazzled, Commissioner. We are standing in the yard of a killer.”

***

John Hoskins’ guards reluctantly opened the main entrance and allowed the two officers to enter. Hoskins was spread out, bare-chested on a velvet sofa, holding an ice pack to his left temple. His eyes were closed.

“John Hoskins? We have some questions for you,” said the commissioner. Hoskins’ eyes opened up with a slight surprise.

“What d’ya wanna ask me?”

“We only have one question for you, Hoskins. Did you order Lee to be poisoned or not? ANSWER ME!” Mike was in “bad cop” mode now.

Pebbles of sweat appeared on Hoskins face, and he began to breathe a little heavier. All the signs of guilt were embroidered across his face.

“Hm, I thought so. Looks like that guilty conscience hurts more than that bruise on your head huh?” Mike gleamed with triumph, as he watched the commissioner put handcuffs onto the murderer’s hands, until he realized something.

“Commissioner…” whispered Mike, in an intonation of re-found suspicion, “the autopsy just arrived. They sent a picture. It’s cyanide.”

“But,” said the commissioner, “cyanide acts in minutes! Hoskins never came came into contact with Lee within hours of the fight!”

“Which means that there was an inside man as well. Some-one who met Lee and had a drink with him just before the fight.”

“Mike, I know who did it. The only person who gave him a drink of orange juice just before the fight.”

Mike nodded and said one word. “Rodriguez.”

***

David Rodriguez sat in the upper terrace of his house, marveling at his success of murdering Lee.

“Ha! That detective will never even suspect me!”

“Oh really?” A familiar voice that he had heard the previous day drifted through the room towards his ears. The voice of Detective Mike Steward. Rodriguez’ face turned swiftly from one of glee to one of utter horror, as he slowly turned around shivering to face the gun that Mike was holding up. He mumbled two words.

“Darn it.”

***

Mike watched as both Rodriguez and Hoskins were dragged out of the police car that was sitting outside the Hilltop police station. He strode back into the commissioner’s office, wading through the number of officers congratulating him on his new success.

“I won’t say that it was easy Commissioner. It was a real challenge.”

“All the more reason to celebrate!” The commissioner guffawed.

“I won’t say no to that Commissioner!”

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The Selection Series. 

The first time I read the Selection was when I was very young. This book was my first step into the world of dystopian novels. The Selection was a book that I couldn’t put down and I believe I read this book in ONE day! Following the story of a young America Singer  who gets chosen to be a part of a competition to try and win the heart of the Prince of Illeà. America struggles with her feelings for her first love, Aspen—and her growing attraction to Prince Maxon.

This book is good for those who crave fairytale romances. It’s the typical young adult novel. As much as America tries to play nice, rivalry within The Selection is fierce and not all of the girls are prepared to play by the rules. But what they don’t know is that America has a secret – one which could throw the whole competition… and change her life forever. A series that takes one on a rollercoaster of emotions with romance being the main theme! A definite recommendation from me! 

The Tiger’s Curse Series

If you’re into fantasy fiction that is interwoven with Indian culture, then this is the series for you! The saga follows the adventure of the young woman Kelsey Hayes as she travels across India in order to break an ancient curse placed upon Ren and Kishan, two princes who have been transformed into tigers. Along the way, the three must face many obstacles and challenges whilst battling Lokesh, the evil wizard that cursed the two men. A typical young adult novel series with a love triangle involving two brothers reading this series will keep you up all night wanting to finish and move on to the next book!

Infernal Devices Series 

Clockwork Angel is the first book of the Infernal Devices trilogy by Cassandra Clare. Following the death of her Aunt, Tessa Grey embarks on an adventure to London to stay with her brother Nathaniel Grey. What follows is a whirlwind of chaos and confusion; on arrival, she is kidnapped and consequently rescued by a group of ‘shadowhunters’. On the lookout for her brother Nathaniel Gray, who has disappeared, and seeking her true identity; Her search plunges her into a world she never knew existed, and reveals talents she  was never aware she had. She will have to learn to master them if she wants to find her brother, and must forge an alliance with Shadowhunters if she wants to survive in this dangerous world. As Tessa Gray is drawn deeper into the Shadow world, and goes on the quest of finding her brother, she falls in love with two Shadowhunters–but when it comes to choosing one, trouble begins to brew and suspense finds its way into her life. She will have to learn to hide her feelings if she hopes to survive. However, as her heart rages for love but her mind is bent on saving her brother, will she hide her vulnerable side? Which of the Shadowhunters will win her heart?

This series has been my go-to favorite trilogy of all time. If you crave a read with a gloomy London atmosphere, excellent bursts of poetry, references to your favorite classical novels and above all, fights in dark alleyways and whirlwind romance, this is the series for you!

Mortal Instruments 

The Mortal Instruments is a series of young adult novels by American author Cassandra Clare and is the first of the Shadowhunter Chronicles. While this is the first series to be published in the shadowhunter chronicles, the Mortal Instruments take place preceding the events of the Infernal Devices, The series follows Clary Fray, Jace Herondale, Simon Lewis, Isabelle Lightwood, Alec Lightwood and other Downworlders and Shadowhunters in the New York Institute. Seemingly normal at first, Clary soon gets sucked into the world of Nephilim and other creatures when she finds out that she is a Shadowhunter.

Clary Fray doesn’t expect to see a murder when she goes to the Pandemonium Club in New York City. Much less a murder perpetrated by three youngsters who had strange tattoos on their bodies. This is Clary’s first encounter with the Shadowhunters, a group of warriors dedicated to exorcising demons from the earth while also keeping the rare werewolves and vampires in check. It’s also her first encounter with the golden-haired Jace. Clary is dragged into Jace’s world with a vengeance within twenty-four hours, when her mother vanishes and Clary is attacked by a demon. The series follows along as she discovers shocking truths that her mother kept away from her and stumbles across secrets that are about to change her whole life forever.

Looking for a read that will sweep you off your feet with the most unexpected plot twists and a vortex of fantasy and romance? This series is perfect for you!

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By Yash Nanayakkara, 12yrs 

Plump old Mary Lawrence came back to her apartment at 5 o’clock in the evening. Work had been  exhausting. Tiredly, she groped for the keys in her brown handbag, and put the key into the lock. To her  surprise, it was ever so slightly open. 

“Hmm…” she thought. “Maybe Hank forgot to close the door properly.” 

Hank Lawrence, her husband, always had been a goofy character. She found it hard to imagine that she  ended up marrying him in the end. Mary chuckled and opened the door fully.  

“Hank? HANK!” she called. No answer.  

“That’s quite funny,” she thought. Her husband was never quiet. Unexpectedly, as she slowly walked  across the room, she noticed a red liquid on the carpet. 

“What is that?” Mary thought. She then saw more of it coming from the bedroom. The door was partially closed. 

“Hank? Oh Hank, what is tha…” She stopped short, for Hank lay slumped on the floor, blood oozing from  his slit throat. She flipped around and saw a black figure jumping out of the window. Mary then did what  any wife would do in this scenario. She screamed. 

Back at the local police station, 35-year-old detective Mike Steward sat lounging in his chair. With ashy  black hair falling in waves over his forehead and moderately muscular arms resting on the arm rests,  Mike was fast asleep on his chair. The day had been quite unhappening for him. No cases to solve, no  crimes to investigate. Ever since he solved John McKowski’s case of the stolen nuclear codes, he had  become a celebrity at the station. A celebrity with nothing to do. It was then that the police  commissioner, Mr. Gordon Bulstock, rushed into Mike’s office. 

“Mike!” The detective quickly bolted up and stood up. 

“Yes Commissioner?” asked Mike, a bit woozy from the sudden awakening. 

“Mike, there’s been a murder downtown at Hilltop Apartments, number 43. Hank Lawrence.” Mike’s blue eyes opened wide, and adrenaline pumped through his veins at once. “Finally!” he exclaimed, with the relief of getting a new case. The era of boredom was over. 

“What are the details commissioner?” questioned Mike. His exhilaration of getting a murder case was  overwhelming. 

“Come on, I don’t know much myself. But the victim’s wife knows it all, and she is getting restless,” the  commissioner replied, as he put on his cap and strode out of the office. Mike slammed on his navy-blue  beret, put on his brown coat, and quickly followed.

Ten minutes later, the car arrived at Hilltop Apartments. Mike and Commissioner Bulstock walked up the  stairs to the third floor. The elevator was, to Commissioner Bulstock’s disappointment, was out of  commission. They arrived at number 43 and rang the bell. A plump lady opened the door and panickily  beckoned them in with the wave of a hand. 

“Hello ma’am, my name is Commissioner Gordon Bulstock, of the Hilltop Police Department. This is Mike  Steward, our best detective.” The commissioner and Mike showed Mrs. Lawrence the badges. 

“Yes detective, please come in quick!” Mike and Commissioner Bulstock walked into the apartment. 

“When I came back home from work at around 5, I just found him slumped on the floor in the bedroom!  It’s simply horrible!” Mike went to the bedroom and saw the remains of Mr. Hank Lawrence. When Mrs.  Lawrence and the commissioner came in, she looked at the body and burst into tears. The commissioner told Mrs. Lawrence to go into the living room, while he and Mike examined the body. 

“So Mike,” the commissioner asked, “what have we got?” 

“First-class murder…” Mike replied. “The killer has slit Mr. Lawrence’s throat right in the vein near the  windpipe. With precision. Whoever this guy, he’s the real deal.” 

“But why was Mr. Lawrence killed?” The commissioner was curious as to why a high-class killer would  target an unemployed man like Hank Lawrence. His wife said that Hank had only worked in the previous  year, for a diamond mine company. 

“I’m not sure about that myself Commissioner, but I do know that the killer left a clue.” 

“WHERE, WHERE!” The commissioner was now in ecstasy. He knew that Mike would be the man for the  job. Mike held up a tiny piece of paper.  

“It must have been dropped by the killer when Mrs. Lawrence came back suddenly,” said the  commissioner. 

Targets 

Hank Lawrence, Hilltop Apartments number 43 Johnny Saville, 73/B Park Lane

“Looks like we know the killer’s next victim. Lucky for us that he  wrote it down.” 

“When do you think he’ll make his move?” 

“It would be unlikely for a killer of such finesse to put off the next  murder till tomorrow. Nightfall is the perfect time to assassinate  a person.” 

Mike and the commissioner assured Mrs. Lawrence that the body would be taken care of, and they  rushed back to the black Sedan waiting for them. 

“So, Johnny Saville. 73/B Park Lane. Are we going there? Just the two of us?” enquired the  commissioner. 

“No Commissioner, it would be too dangerous. I’m going to bring Jacob along.” Mike told the driver to  go to the police station to pick up Jacob, and the Sedan sped away. Jacob was already waiting when they  pulled up at the station. 

“Hey bub!” Jacob exclaimed. 

“Hey my old friend. Thanks for working overtime. Come on, get in the car,” said Mike, “we’ve got a  murder to stop.” 

While on the way to Mr. Saville’s house, once Mike explained to Jacob what was going on, Jacob  suddenly asked the driver to stop to make a phone call. Once he was done, they sped away. “Hmm…”  pondered Mike, “it’s not like Jacob to make a phone call in the middle of a case.” 

Johnny Saville’s house was a wreck. Wooden floorboards creaked for each footstep, and the windows  were encapsulated in a blanket of dust. Jacob came forward, and slowly pushed the door open. Silence. 

“Mr. Saville? Hello?” called Commissioner Bulstock. There was no answer. 

“Hold on, did you hear that?” whispered Mike. A strangled wheeze emerged from the cobwebbed dining  room. Mike and Jacob ran in, only to find Johnny Saville’s body taking its last breaths. The commissioner  frantically pressed on Saville’s chest to try and save him from imminent death. 

“Mr. Saville did the killer say anything to you. Anything at all?” questioned Mike, with as much subtlety  to the dying man as possible. Only two words came out of him. 

“Behind you…” 

Mike and the commissioner whipped around, only to be knocked unconscious by a glass bottle. Blackness. 

Mike awoke slowly after half an hour. The wound on his forehead throbbed with agony. He slowly  turned his head to view his surroundings. Next to him was the gagged commissioner, who was emitting  muffled sounds of help. 

“I see you’ve woken up Mike.” 

Mike turned around and looked forward, to see a dark man and Jacob. 

“Surprised, Mike?” asked Jacob, a tone of victory in his voice. 

Mike writhed and struggled in his ropes to get out, as is mind whirled and reeled at this betrayal. “Why Jacob, why did you hire an assassin to kill both of the victims?” 

“I will answer that,” said the dark-skinned man. “Both Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Saville were employed  under my boss an year ago, in diamond mining. Your alleged friend, Jacob, is under his service as well,  but as an informer and infiltrator for this task. We got to know that Hank and Johnny found a palm-sized  diamond, but never handed it in to our boss. So I was assigned to hunt them own, find out where it was,  and them kill them. And we got that information.” 

“It was in Saville’s son’s house the whole time. We couldn’t kill him yet, but we will, once I’m done with  you two!” exclaimed Jacob. “And I know you got suspicious about that phone call I took when we were 

coming here. It was to the assassin, to inform him to stay out of sight but remain in the house. It was an  elaborate murder game of hide and seek all along!” 

The assassin cocked a revolver and pointed it at Mike. 

“Bye bye Steward!” said Jacob, and he laughed maniacally as the assassin was about to pull the trigger.  But all of a sudden, Mike started laughing himself. Jacob and the assassin exchanged glances. 

“I knew that you would betray me after that phone call, Jacob,” said Mike, “so I just stayed quiet just to  get to know what your motive was. Now that I’ve got it, there’s no need for hide-and seek anymore.  Because I’ve caught you now.” Mike’s ropes fell off and, before the assassin could react, Mike’s leg  whipped up, knocking the revolver from the assassin’s hand while the gun reactively shot a bullet  towards Jacob, who fell on the floor when the bullet hit. Mike punched the bewildered assassin in the  face and grabbed the gun. He cornered the assassin to the end of the room, and tied him up. Mike then  untied the commissioner, and called for backup. 

An hour later, the assassin had been arrested, and the two dead bodies of Jacob and Mr. Saville had  been taken away. However, the next morning, Mike found the location of Mr. Saville’s son, and obtained  the diamond. 

“Well Commissioner,” said Mike, as he and Commissioner Bulstock sat in the police station’s office,  “Another day gone, another exciting case solved!”

The post A game of hide and seek – MURDER style  appeared first on ChoKoLAAte Blog.

Go shawtie it’s your birthday! Or maybe not..? (If you sang the tiktok audio in your head, bestie we’re best friends)

Do not underestimate the struggles of a common woman you guys! Especially when it’s her birthday

POV – birthday day in the life

Cue off key rendition of happy birthday at 12AM with faces staring at you through a screen and wide smiles on their faces (no I’m not writing about a horror movie scene, I’m talking about a virtual birthday celebration) and all the building excitement from the previous month for your birthday just to do nothing and cry on the actual day cus you know… You’re old.

But imagine your day in the life, birthday edition start with murderous cramps taking over your whole body as you writhe in pain… Too dramatic Noh? But hear me out. Imagine waking up SICK on your birthday. Nevermind, don’t. It’s painful.

Then you wake up and you have to put in the effort to actually look presentable cus even though it’s your “upan hati” to rock the “thuttu dekkeh look” it’s actually not a bad idea to dress up on your birthday as long as you don’t cheat on your bata flip flops.

You then proceed to go to work cus you know #Adulting and stuff but you genuinely have the sweetest, bestest office crew ever who get you coffee cake cus that’s your favourite flavour and play “gamma” Sinhala music for your grand entrance.

And then begin the extreme sport games. What’s an extreme sport you ask? Figuring out which emoji to use for your thank yous. What’s an even more extreme sport? The small talk that follows from people you haven’t heard from in months after they wish you happy birthday and the constant thought “what do I say next”?
What’s an even more extra extreme sport? Figuring out what to say to those who ask you if it’s sirawata your birthday and start apologizing like the world is going to end if they accidentally slept in at 12

But not gonna lie, we all love some birthday love and the extra attention we get for being born. Like don’t we all go aneyyyyy howww sweeeettt when someone adds two extra lines to the standard wish. And I kid you not, that happiness goes off the roof if someone actually types a paragraph for you.

And thennn drum roll please, a little louder for the birthdayyy –
The moment we allll LOVE (read: kinda hate), the epitome of all birthdays – THE CAKE CUTTING
Where all your friends are singing the ‘birthday song”, quite off key might I add, cus if it’s not off-key what even is the point, and you have to constantly stare at the ceiling counting every second down until they finish so you can devour your cake!

I mean hands down, the awks is so worth the deliciousness that follows afterwards. As long as you don’t choke on your own birthday cake cus you’re talking and gobbling at the same time  (P. S – guess who did that, cookie for you if you guess it right)

Also, as an afterthought, if you don’t cut your cake and eat the first bite, then I’m sorry we can’t be friends. And after having the first bite if you don’t go around feeding one bite from that tiny piece to everyone in the room, then I’m sorry we definitely can’t be friends.

You know I recently discovered that feeding cake to everyone is not normal, it’s just a desi tradition, you know, definitely can’t be normal but atleast it’s cute. These days people come prepared to throw eggs and flour and sugar and whatnot at the poor person whose ill fate it was to be born.
I mean bro, you’re supposed to eat cake on birthdays, not turn the person into cake with all your ingredient mixing.
P. S – a little bit of my two cents cus I can’t really ever shut up – if you do throw eggs and stuff please don’t, considering you can give those to someone in need, you know, it’s nice to be nice

Anywayyy, there’s a typical birthday day in the life, ngl though, our birthdays are our favourite days and rightly so cus we’re celebrated even if it’s all about congratulations on being born, you’ve made it this far, yayyy!

On that note – Happy Birthday to everyone born today! This one’s for y’all
And as always,
Aathal eke hitapang (even if you choke on your birthday cake)

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Her mahogany skin

A tapestry resembling her ancestry

Her unruly hair

Has no bound like her courage

Her pigmented lips

Bearing the strength of her Voice

For it is her weapon 

When she battles prejudice

As she speaks for the voiceless

Her body with such curves

Marked with scars that tells her story

She walks with pride

Yet so humble to look at me and smile

She hears them whisper

Snickering behind her back

But she pays no attention

For her Aura has great power

And incinerated their hate

Like flies flying into a light trap

As they were merely insecta

Flying aimlessly in her presence 

The presence of a Lioness

By Damsini Kanthimala 

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