All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Night’s Clues
We sit in silence. No one speaks. No one moves.
The mansion’s legend is known by everyone. T. Cullen Davis lived here. When his father died; the mansion, the money, the company were all given to him. The legend says that Davis killed his stepdaughter in the cellar under the house back in 1970. Shot her in her head as she was at his knees.
I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds in the house. I heard the water and the wind, but no footsteps. I opened my eyes and looked at the host’s spot at the table. The flowers were on the plate. I stood from my spot and walked to the host’s chair, plucked the card from the flowers. I went to open it and heard the shaky breath of one of the guests.
I paused then cleared my throat to read the card out loud, “‘Welcome! You are all my special guests of the night. Each of you were picked for a reason. Look under your plates and read for us all to hear. Colonel Mustard please start. Once everyone has read their reason, read the last card under the empty spot.’”
Colonel Mustard is a tall, broad man with wide shoulders, greyed hair and a thick upper lip mustache. He breaths in and reads, “‘I am so pleased you joined at my request. Your military and police experience will surely come to life in the event planned tonight’”
“‘Mrs. White,’” an older lady with a fancy dress, heels and pearl jewelry spinning between her fingers, begins, “‘I am so pleased with your research abilities. Your gifts shall play an important part tonight.’”
A round man with a button up shirt, big circled glasses and an old pipe, scrambles to get his card from under the plate. “‘Professor Plum. I am sure you know how crucial your skills are for the night to come. Your degrees shall be needed.’” The Professor cursed under his breath. Unhappy to be here perhaps?
I walk to my seat next to the Professor. Dressed in a black gown and curled pinned back fire red hair, my red heels clicking on the floor is the only sound in the house, “‘Miss. Scarlet! The amazing journalist. The one who uncovers the truth no matter how far in the dark it was hidden. Be on your toes tonight. There will be a lot for you to expose tonight.’”
An old lady dressed in blue feathers clears her throat for all attention as if she doesn’t already have it. “‘Mrs. Peacock, it’s been so long since you have roamed the grounds, but you know it better than anyone else. You shall once again lead the others through the house.’” Peacock lost all color in her face and went silent.
Lastly, a cocky young man dressed sharply in black and white with slick black hair and bright white teeth, straightened his shoulders and read, “‘Mr. Green. What a talented knowledgeable young man you are! Your interest in all weapons shall certainly be needed.’” Oddly Mr. Green look pleased with himself.
I walked to the end of the table. The last letter laid the same as the others have. Hidden neatly under the plate. I looked at it for a second, scared of what was inside. But I didn’t run. I opened the card and read to the others, “Now that everyone knows each other and your roles for the night, let me enlighten you all with the reason you were invited.”
“This is absurd!” Mrs. Peacock was furious. “How do we know that this is not some insane trick being played on us!”
“How do we know it’s not? Let her finish.” Mr. Green snapped.
“‘You all have skills that will come in handy tonight. The tale of what happened in this house is still told today, but what if wasn’t told right? Davis wasn't the best father figure, but he didn't kill that girl. Find the clues who is responsible for who killed my baby girl. If you don't, you don't leave.'¨
¨Andrea Wilborn was the young girl” Colonel Mustard’s wheels turned, recalling the murder. “Her biological father was never contacted. No one could ever find him.”
“You fools aren’t seriously considering staying here? It is merely a prank! Nothing more!” Mrs. Peacock stormed out of the dining room, and forced the door open with a wild swing. The lightning struck close to the door with a bright white flash, causing Peacock to stumble backwards. We were all trapped in the house for the night.
“Obviously this grieving father is serious about us not leaving. If it wasn't Davis, then where do we start?¨ Mrs. White focused on the card trying to find any clues.
“Split up? We can find more clues in the house if we divide and conquer.” the Professor suggested.
“Everyone.” Mrs. White called out with her small voice, “The note was not finished. ‘Here’s a small hint. The killer stands with you all tonight. Find the killer. Everyone lives.”
“Let the hunt begin.” Colonel declared.