Journey into the Mind

My Psych professor gave us an interesting semester-long assignment: write 10 stories based on 10 pictures. Each story is approximately 150-200 words and should not be edited so that the original emotions and intent of the writer could be more transparent. At the end of the semester, we have to write a paper analyzing the stories and finding a commonality within them. Why don't you try?

Story 1:

The mannequins were placed delicately in the candelabra-lit room. Each one was placed where it was suspected that the suspects and victim were standing when the incident occurred. Each mannequin, though homogeneous, seemed to exert its own personality into its character, as if the inanimate were conscious of its purpose.
“All right; let’s go over this again.” The detective, a man known to be somewhat a curmudgeon, raised his fedora hat and fiddled with his toothpick. His long tan overcoat was only outdone by the indecency of his slouching.
“The victim, sitting here on the couch, was holding a glass of wine, facing away from the window. The man,” he walked over to the position, “was standing at the window, looking out with the curtains open. The other woman, “he trudged to her position, “was sitting here, at the piano, her back turned to the whole incident. The shot itself,” he pointed to the man’s position, “seems to have come from the outside, though there was no damage done to the window and the man recalled neither hearing nor seeing the window break. It has never been a simpler deduction in my life.”
“How is that so?” asked the officer, his curious face hung open in confusion. The detective returned to the window. “Come,” he said to the officer, motioning with his finger. “Look at this window pane. Does it not differ from the others?” The officer squinted at it, and after several seconds, resolved there to be no difference. The detective gave him a look of derision.
“Look at the lining of the pane itself. Though hard to see, each windowpane is glued to the window frame so that the window is more secure. This windowpane,” he took out a switchblade and jarred it out, “is not glued at all. Thus, it was removed before the shot was fired to allow for an almost-seamless crime. The culprit is, most certainly, the man.”
“So, what do we do from here?” asked the officer.
“Evidence, my friend, evidence. To the roof!” exclaimed the detective, and with a surprising amount of energy, he bounded out of the room to the staircase.


That's all for now,
Das Flüg