This is an extract from a longer work called ‘Rose Lungs’. This scene is where the murder-mystery abruptly unfolds as the murder suspects emerge…
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𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻, 𝒜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 . . . 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝒮𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒! |
Thirty identical notes had been stuffed into thirty postboxes all across England.
As April 13th was only two days after the invitations had arrived, families rushed to pack and parents hurriedly kissed their children goodbye.
There wasn’t a lot that anyone knew about Aunt Margaret really, except that she was rich. Very very rich. To be left out of the will, would be to miss out on a vast amount of money.
Besides, Aunt Margaret was strange but she couldn’t be that strange, right?
Right?
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A long procession of glistening trays marched into the room. Covered in coloured dots of paper and streamers, looking like a child’s summer birthday party, each of the six trays were laden with five cakes. The shiny platters were not out of place with the rest of the lurid decorations in the gaudily decorated room.
Atop of the trays, the cakes glinted in the yellow-tinged lights. However, despite the filtered view, the cakes were unmistakably fuschia. On top of each cake, there was a crown of frosting – equally hot pink – and beaded blushing butterflies. Mounds of shimmering glitter were sprinkled on the coral crowns, which added to the ethereal effect of the surreal scene.
The room was deathly quiet. Not one word or gasp was uttered. This was expected in the most unexpected light. A proper turn from Aunty Margaret’s vapid funeral on the Jolly Sailor.
Before anyone could speak, a crimson cupcake had been pushed into each sweaty hand and not a word left the strained mouths of the crowd. Not for a long time.
No one dared to take a bite but, thinking of the money, no one dared not to hold their crimson commodity. Finally, a single voice broke the suffocatingly, dangerous silence.
“Well, no use in standing around, eh?” Arthur had boomed, “Margie would have wanted us to eat her cupcakes, or she wouldn’t have served them. So… Eat up, people!”
A heavy silence rested above the assemblage. Feet were rooted down as much as mouths were clamped shut. Eyes were wide and horrified by the lack of respect this funeral held.
“Eat!”
The commanding voice shocked the crowd out of their reverie, as they all tentatively raised the rose-coloured cakes to their mouths. Thirty pairs of eyes shot glances around the room.
“Oh you’re all a bunch of wet wipes!” Arthur declared as he shoved the cake into his mouth in one go.
“Eat!” was his muffled cry with his mouth overflowing with hot pink icing and crimson cake.
“Eat!” fuchsia crumbs flew out his mouth as he screeched.
This shocking display was violent enough to draw all attention away from the five furtive hands. Five spurned cakes were being put down on different hidden surfaces. Five unseen muffins suddenly dropped their lurid glitter, as it fell scattered at their rejected bases.
The other crimson cakes, still in shaking hands around the room, slowly vanished.
Arthur nodded along as his pale brown eyes darted approvingly around the room.
“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad – ”
Arthur had scarcely finished this sentence, when he let out a rasping cough. Pink glitter flew out of his mouth in a shimmering cloud.
“Oh, um, sorry – ”
Arthur was cut off by another barking cough. More lurid glitter, a larger pink whirling cloud.
Another hack released another hot pink glittery plume, this time from a different corner of the room.
Cough, glitter.
Cough, glitter.
Cough, glitter.
Suddenly, the room was full of shimmering pink glitter mist, spluttering out from almost everyone’s choking mouths.
No one noticed as five soberly silent figures slipped out amongst the chaos. Five figures sneaking out of the room and running noiselessly down the quiet corridors.
Arthur hit the floor first.
Thud.
Another twenty-four figures followed in quick succession.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
However, in the distance, five bedroom doors furtively closed. Five phones unlocked. Five gasps. Five phones fell to the floor.
One howling scream.
Twenty five deaths.
And yet, only one scream.