This chapter is dedicated to _Wash_Your_Mouth_  Writer X's first reader𓂀♥︎

Chapter Title: In the beginning there was well...man-- wait, I meant death.

Month, Year: March. 1995
Country, state: United States of America, Seattle.

"We're gathered at the grave of one of the six citizens that were killed mysteriously," with the reporter was hundreds of citizens, rich, poor, police, reporters, students, surrounded with candles late at night.

"Six countries, six different deaths, a similar cryptic note that leaves the police department speechless," another reporter said as a blonde woman behind him sobbed on her husband's chest.

"She was never stubborn, she always minded her busine--" The woman broke down and tried to speak but the sobs obstructed her, "no further questions." Her husband pulled away from the cameras and to a secluded area.

"We have gathered here today to part with Alyssa Ray and the other five from their various countries," the confident voice boomed through the mic, her gray hair was packed in a bun, her aging chin obvious showing no sign of fear as she continued protesting like she has done over the past three months, "we are not going to stand for this! The police are not doing anything, it's been three months yet no news from the police."

"It's shocking that we've evolved so much but we still can't find a murderer on loose, what exactly are the police doing if they're not protecting us? We have--"

Month, year: January 2005
Country, state: Canada, Ontario

"The mysterious writer struck again, he, once again, left the message saying, writing is an art that is in everyone, you just need to find the right person to help you with it. What do you have to say about this, detective? This is the second time this is happening, yet you've made no attempt to stand up to it," the wind blew her blonde hair, her mic stretched in front of the perplexed detective standing in only his robe, holding a newspaper under his armpit and a mug with his right hand.

"Well you certainly didn't have to visit me at home," he chuckled nervously, beads of sweats on his fair forehead, "I haven't heard of this case yet, when I--, I mean the police have any information, I will personally hold a press conference."

"I suggest you drink a lot of coffee," another reporter pointed at his mug, "you'll need it because the people deserve answers."

"I suggest you leave my compound before I throw you all in jail," the detective threatened, his icy blue eyes daring them to stay.

"Once again, the police are ignoring such an--"

Month, year: June, 2016
Country, State: South Africa, KwaZulu-Natal

"My son is dead and you're telling me to calm down? It's been a year and you've done nothing but stall!" The man banged the officer's table.

"We're working on it sir, we have eight countries with similar cases and we're yet to get a lead. You have to understand that your son isn't the only person that died with that message last year." The officer said calmly waiting for the man to break down like he has done over the past months.

"He was my only child, we wanted to surprise him by going to his apartment, his mum packed a lot of food and--" the man's voice cracked as he buried his face in his hand, "he was there, hanged with barbed wire, he was electrocuted to dea--" then he fully broke down crying on the detective's table.

Date: September 23rd, 2028
Country, state: Nigeria, Lagos.
Location: T's Kitchen

"It's rush morning people," his hands clapped as he walked in the bustling kitchen with a hairnet on his head, his dark skin showing through the steams, "Careful with that hot oil Jada," he said dodging the apprentice wearing a white top and a black trousers signaling she was new.

"Reduce the fire or the Jollof rice will be turned to burnt crisps sooner than you think," he pointed at the light-skinned boy who was also wearing black and white.

"Ore, why are the newbies cooking on a Saturday?" He asked the tall girl beside him, her hair weaved in simple cornrows, her lipgloss glowing as skin.

"We had an emergency Owanbe, Tobi," Her voice cracked as she tried to keep up with his pace.

"So we needed to send all our experienced cooks to this occasion?" They left the kitchen to his office where he threw his hairnet in the wastebin releasing his packed dreadlocks.

"The senator didn't tell us on time and we had another occasion, so I had--" Her heart skipped in fear as she heard the loud bang on the table.

"When did the senator order?" His voice was low as his fingers dug into his palm.

"About two weeks ago," she was close to tears as her heart kept beating faster.

"Read rule fifteen out," he demanded calmly reaching for a bottle of wine and a glass.

"All orders must be placed a month before," her cracked voice was now obvious as he poured the wine into the glass, "I'm sorry, they said it was urgent and they were ready to pay a lot."

"How are we supposed to get invited to more occasions if trainees are cooking during the rush hour?" He downed the drink in his hand before grabbing a new hairnet, "You, my loyal PA, are going to learn how to cook today or you can start looking for a new job." He raised her head so she could look into his deep brown eyes before walking out of the office not without giving her heart another scare by slamming the door.

Location: Tobi's therapist's office.

"You assistant called to tell me she burned her hand today." A book on her lap, as usual, she wore her straight skirt and a shirt, her braids packed in a bun with her nose supporting her glasses.

"I asked her to check how hot the oil was, it's not my fault she was dumb enough to dip a finger in the oil." His shoulder was slumped on the arm of the chair, his face looking bored.

"Did you yell at her?" She looked at him knowing the answer to her question as she saw him shrug lightly.

"You know what? There's this app that allows you to explore your imaginative side, art helps you to stay calm. A lot of people have found it helpful, it's like a fun meditation app."  She passed her tab to him, the screen showing a bunch of people, listening to music, painting, dancing, drawing, writing, and more before firming the word Click App.

Date: September 23rd, 2028
Country, state: India, Goa

Her stunning voice hummed as she played the tunes of Count on me with her guitar strings, she already set her Dj mix to the perfect beat, prerecorded the piano to the right tune, her long delicate fingers with red paint tapping the guitar board lightly. The open window she sat beside allowed the wind to blow her long dark brown hair.

"Daana, what do you think you're doing?" Her ma barged in the room unplugging her set.

"Ma!" She used her hair to cover her face, wiping the red lipstick off her mouth, her raging mother stood in front of her waiting for her to explain the revealing outfit she wore close to an open window. 

"It's not what it looks like." She tried to explain, grabbing the nearest coat beside her.

"It looks like you got money to buy another set of this rubbish!" Her mother grabbed the guitar beside Daana and proceeded to smash it on the wall like she did with the previous ones.

"You want to start smoking, no?" Her mother asked before throwing her Dj mix, piano, and drum set on the floor, stomping it all as Daana let small tears out.

"You are going to take over the store," she walked towards Daana grabbing her red face, "Do you know how many people wish to have this life you're choosing to waste?" Her mother squeezed her face, silently threatening her to say a word.

"Wear good clothes and go to the store," Her mum ordered releasing her face making her rush out of the room with clothes she picked on the floor.

Location: The Kaapor's store.

"You..." She rolled her dark hazel eyes as she saw him try to sneak into the store, "...It's all clear." She shook her head, saving him from whatever embarrassing move he was about to play.

"I was just about to start dancing then I heard your mum's voice," He rolled his eyes placing a new black guitar on the counter, "I think you should run away then come back when you're famous."

"Runaway?" She scoffed, "I wish, I don't have the money." Her face fell before she wiped her face to her hair.

"I've been thinking, maybe she's right you know most artistes are depressed so they confine in drugs, what if I end up like them." She rested on the counter looking into his hazel eyes, strands of hair falling on his forehead.

Raghav looked at her with a deadpan face, then saying, "you're not. I know you, you don't even stand beside me when I smoke,"

"Ok but I don't even know how to write song lyrics, I can sing, yes but I can't write lyrics, I guess I have to quit."

"Your mum is already getting inside your head, I found this app, Clickapp, that allows you to discover your imaginative side." He snatched her phone from the counter, sending her the app to her phone and setting it for her before sliding the phone to her showing her multiple links.

"Which one should I click?" Her face lit up as she showed her teeth earning a smile from Raghav.

"Anyone." He chuckled watching her fingers tap the table excitedly before tapping the first link on the app.

Owanbe: Extravagant parties e.g weddings or big ceremonies.