The teachers have found out it was I who wrote this. Apparently they were impressed! I can't wait to see how they react!

Enjoy this chapter...

24/5/18

Yes, the events of two days ago were important- but the events of today are even more so. For two days ago we saw our past. Today, we start a new future.

Sheila, Eric and I took a walk to clearly discuss what ought to happen. I cannot remember- it was probably some rambling about forming a charity.

And then we saw the two figures ahead.

Inspector Goole was taller than Ruevault, though both held an impression of massiveness, solidarity and purposefulness. Goole's eyes were hard, like stone, just as peircing as the icy stare of Ruevault's alive eyes.

'Charles, Inspector Goole, Inspector Goole, Charles.' I had no idea what to do but tighten my lips as the other Inspector gave a curt nod. Not unfriendly, not welcoming.

'You two must be the Birling children. I'm Inspector Ruevault. I believe Charles has told you much of me.

But enough with the formalities. You know who we are?' At this, I think, Eric became curious.

'Yes. How do you know things about what is occurring here, before they happen?' His question was along that line. Goole just replied with-

'This place is our life, our death, our heart.' It was clear Eric and Sheila wanted to ask more, but refrained from doing so. I myself just felt queasy. The thought of running dashed through my mind- and face- earning me a knowing glance from that damned omniscient, sarcastic Inspector.

'When this place was founded, the rich were meant to use their higher status to help the poor.' Inspector Goole started.

'And you expect us to do so now?'

'No. I expect you to use both your power and new-found understanding to benefit all in Brumley.' The words were impressive, overwhelming. Ruevault continued.

'As you know, we both committed suicide.' A pause. 'And, over time's turns and life's ticking, our suicide caused Eva Smith to commit suicide too.'

Eric murmured something about 'euphemisms' and I would have agreed, but we needed this truth spat at our face, screaming in our ears, entering our minds.

'And her death lead to another- one of a young boy named Charlie.'

This would go on, and on, and on.

'Can we stop it?' Sheila pleaded, eye's filled with tears.

'Yes.'

'And if you don't, Brumley will likely end up as a barren land of lonely steel, all the life having moved away to another English town...or any other domain in heaven.'

I desperately asked 'How?' despite suspecting that they'd say:

'You know what lead to the others, stop it from happening again.

'A rich family messes up. A poor person dies. So-' Eric was hushed by Goole.

'Who said it has to be a rich family? Or a poor victim?'

That threw us off.

'We can all be bad. We can all be good. We all have power. We all have sadness. We all can kill. We can all be killed.' Ruevault's words were a dagger in the chest. He continued on: 'Indeed, everyone should be equal in rights and power and justice. Of course, law prevents that, you have power here. Or rather, it is like the power expressed in Shelley's 'Ozymandias' in which they think they have power, but actually nature-'

At least the two had flaws. Ruevault's clearly was getting too off-track. Not that I'd blame him though, it is Percy Byshee Shelley.

'Anyway, that is not the issue. You have social power and you will use it. Use it well. Use it for equality. All animals are equal. Some are just more equal than others.'

'Where is that from?' Goole asked, his voice a growl.

'I don't know. I think it's from the future.'

'Literature doesn't matter. What matters now is Brumley.' Inspector Goole impressed upon the listeners. 'It's you three who can save it.'

'But we need to know who is going to...' Eric's sentence remained unfinished, but we knew it.

'They know the four gone so far. In some way.' A clue. Because this is a riddle. A riddle. Eric burst first- they knew who was going to die but they weren't saying!

'Mr. Birling!' Goole intervined, 'if we just tell you who will be next, then you won't learn how to save society. So you cannot teach your children how to save society. You have to learn!'

We were silent.

'So go, choose.' He calmly went on, somehow, 'end the world with peace and equality and smiles- or will it end in-'

'Fire and blood and anguish.' Sheila and Eric recited together.

'Flames and tears and pain.' I recalled.

All Inspector Ruevault gave me was a small smile, before the duo turned away, and strutted down the road, dissolving into the darkness.

We went straight to the alley. I felt sick as Sheila and Eric shouted my name 'Charlie!' Though this was for Charlie Cook. Who I've killed. No- who my whole family has killed. And showed no remorse for. A family I don't want to associate with (hence why I've been staying in the spare room.)

The Inspectors talked of one whohad already met the four before. We assumed that was the four who took their own lives- Ruevault, Charlie, Goole and Eva.

Charlie's mother was our bet. She knew Charlie and Eva, and we have no clue who knew the ghosts or whatever. But no woman emerged. Dull, dusty, dreary, the alley was not welcoming.

'The palace? It could be a pretty one for all I know.'

'They're called women, not pretty ones, Charles. Besides, I'd have to keep an eye on Eric.'

'I've changed!' he protested, but I could hear the doubt in his own voice. The sadness in Sheila's eyes. What he did- he knew he should never be allowed to see the beautiful sun above us, shining rays of starlight, of hope that we cannot catch, as we search wildly on.

Half an hour passes, Eric's eyes go dark. 'I'm expected to return to the Croft's now.' He muttered, distressed. 'Take Sheila home, then go home yourself.'

We did so, dissapointed. Desperate, Sheila even suggested her own mother! She had met Goole, and Eva, maybe even Charlie at the Brumley's Women Charity, however Sheila-with a laugh- commented on how her mother would be moved by any.

Who, who, who is it?