1. Mystery Writer StoryRain. I wake up to hear it bucketing down on the roof. I turn over to look at my calender.Its Friday the 13th.My mate Bob and I have a weekly tradition. Every Friday we take to the seas in our littlered catamaran. Even though its pelting down with rain, the boat is battered and the painthas been abraded by years of rough weather, Bob and I decide to proceed with ourweekly tradition, as we believe our little red catamaran can battle the rain.I gather my belongings and trudge along the cobblestone path. When I arrive at thebeach, I am greeted by large, colossal waves smashing against the nearby dock. I canonly just make out our little red catamaran, getting battered the waves. Bob is franticallytrying to stop the catamaran getting swallowed by the out of control water. I can see heis already drenched through. I sprint towards him along the gloopy sand, my shoessinking. Once we are both safely in the boat, we crack a drink and set off to sea.We are now out far enough where the water is calmer and the storm has eased. We dropthe sail and decide to sacrifice our sence and go for a dive deep down into the ocean. Asmy body enters the icy cold water, it sends a shiver up my spine. As I dive deepersomething catches my eye. I swim closer and discover something that is leaving the sandunsettled. Its silver bolts that have a slight case of rust and the burnt colour of the chestcreate something quite out of the ordinary. A large padlock prevents me from openingthe chest there and then, so Bob and I decide to go back to shore, collect the right gearand come back later.Hours later, Bob and I are back in the little red catamaran, bobbing along the water. Itshard to believe that just hours ago, the sea was heaving to and fro, as thought it weretrying to imitate a some wild rocking horse. As we sail through the glass like sea, Bob andI decide that I will dive down to the chest, place the hook through the padlock and Bobwill reel it up to the catamaran.Thankfully, because the water is so clear, we can see the chest sitting in the sand belowus. As I dive down into the calm water, I am instantly relaxed.I hook the chest, give a tug on the rope and it starts to ascend. As we are now safely inthe boat with the chest, we set off towards home.We heave the chest through my front door and collapse in the living room. Bob goes insearch for a crow bar, running and jumping at the same time with happiness. He returnssoon enough, bursting with excitement. We are both grinning with curiosity as we are soexcited to see what is inside. The second we open the chest, our faces drop withdisappointment. All the hard work we put in to retrieve the chest simply goes down thedrain as we discover the contents. Rocks. Stupid, pointy, worthless, rocks. That is all thechest contains.It is now twilight, and Bob and I are laying on our deck chairs looking out towards thebeach. The waves are calm and the sky is a swirl of abstract colours.Man, this day has been full of bad luck, dont you think Bob? I enquire.Yes, but after all, it is Friday the 13th. I guess this day had always been destined for badluck!