{"sf1_id":1169526,"sf2_id":"rnaxjL3m","title":"A Stolen Heart - Short Story","author":"MuddyMonkey","words":357,"posted_at":"2017-04-06T19:49:59.000Z","tags":["Death","Human","Police"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1169526-a-stolen-heart-short-story","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/rnaxjL3m","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/41/7f/417f4c3e-3ea9-47e3-b82c-93b547306982","description":"So this sad little tale originated from a 360-word writing competition that I entered a few months ago. I didn't win it, unfortunately, but my annoyance was quickly dashed when I read the three shortlisted entries; seriously they were brilliantly written, and in the case of one in particular, absolutely inspired. I didn't actually realise that SoFurry had a tag for human characters, and I know it seems odd posting an entirely human story on a furry website, but I am happy enough with this to share it with you all, despite its sombre subject matter.","content":"“Stolen car…suspect in his teens…black, spiked hair…” Police Constable Raymond Gordon had heard it all before; indeed, he could only assume all the planets had aligned when a day passed _without_ a knocked-down elderly lady or a window purposefully obliterated within the Gramford Estate. Pulling his car smoothly to a halt expertly parallel to the kerb, he stepped onto the rutted pavement and casually passed the Silver Skoda in question, crumpled against a brick wall, as if it was a natural element of the streetscape; his narrow, scowling eyes were pin-pointed firmly towards the house where a witness had seen the youngster flee immediately after, yet what struck him as odd was how the front door remained ajar, offering a tunnel-esque view into the ruffled, stained carpet staring glumly back at his creaseless blue uniform. Navigating the crooked door-frame, he calmly rapped twice on the door; the pistol in his belt-mounted pocket rubbed assuredly against his torso as he did so.\n\n“This is the Police; show yourselves!” he snapped brusquely; his well-utilised ears, however, had quickly perked up, as a sound he had resolutely dismissed the possibility of hearing faintly washed against them like a tide. A confused frown etched itself upon his face and, as if on autopilot, he gingerly ascended a rickety set of wooden stairs, before turning sharply to the left as the sound grew incrementally louder. A claustrophobic, damp room, dimly lit by the firmly shut curtains on the adjacent wall, blocked most of the light from the three people within it, but as the Officer entered, a plain-clothed female hunched in a straight-backed chair at the foot of the bed reluctantly lifted her head like a clockwork toy; her ragged, ginger hair cascading down her cheeks with as much vigour as her tears. Slumped over the other end of the bed, the second occupant’s face was obscured by a tuft of black, spiked hair, but as Gordon’s slowly widening eyes arced downwards, they latched themselves like a claw onto the only visible sight of the final occupant; an icy-pale, limp hand that flopped its motionless fingertips towards the faded wooden floorboards.\n\n\u0026nbsp;"}