A Quiet Murder

This is the start of a story I'm messing around with at the moment, just for the hell of it really. This is just the first few paragraphs, maybe the prologue I haven't really decided yet, but please feel free to comment, bash, rate or do whatever the hell you like.

Enjoy.

The night brought yet another sprinkling of snow, adding to the frost now turning the pale green grass white. The previously dull looking row of houses was now alight with flashing Christmas lights, a mixture of countless lights now reflecting on the ice covered road. Only one small house had no lights, the house blending well into the background. It was not lack of spirit as most assumed, but lack of time. The empty had been a source of complaint from the residents of the street for years, but now that it had finally been filled, not one had noticed.

The loud blaring of a car alarm split the peace of the night, awaking most on the street. The clatter of a mug hitting the floor echoed around one house, jolting awake one of the only who hadn't been awoken by the car alarm. A hand reached down, lifting the mug and placing it securely back on the table it had fallen from, slipped between a large pile of magazines and a half eaten plate of beans on toast.

The figure in the chair let out a low sigh, lifting his feet from where they were rested on the table, careful not the knock the mug of the table. He pushed himself from the chair, fumbling with the remote to turn the television down until the news reporter???s voice had been reduced to a low drone. He cleared the cramped room in a few steps, drawing open the cream curtains. The car alarm had stopped, having seemingly been set off by a length of lights that had fallen of an overly decorated tree. The lights lay spread across the bonnet of the car, still flashing dimly. He scanned the street, blinking slightly as the street lights glinted of the cars overly polished body.

He rubbed his face softly, inhaling deeply as he did so. Soon he was back in the same position he had fallen asleep in earlier, his feet propped up on the low table, arms on the small armrests of the chair, his head titled slightly to the side. He glanced at the clock from where he sat, able to hear the soft, rhythmic tick over the quiet hum of the television. Seven. He groaned slightly, shifting into a more comfortable position.
He glanced at the cold plate of food, tempted for a moment. Shaking his head softy he stood again, instantly missing the, in his eyes, annoyingly comfortable chair. He yawned as he grabbed the plate and empty mug before striding into the kitchen. He returned from the kitchen with a damp cloth, dropping to his knees, scrubbing it the pale brown stain left by the coffee on the carpeted floor. He soon gave up, throwing the cloth aside, deciding he would just cover it up with something and pray the landlord wouldn't notice.

He remained on the floor for what seemed like hours, only to find a mere few minutes had passed. He came to his sense swiftly when the ringing of a phone filled the room. He muttered quietly to himself as he fumbled around the dark room, grabbing the first thing he found that felt remotely like the phone. He raised it to his ear, ramming a button roughly.
'Gray here' he said into the phone, using the arm of the chair to pull himself up. 'Right' He paused. 'It's my day off. Yes. No...I'll be right in'

Just a small note: Not that any of you would, but steal it and your beyond dead.

-Tanners-