My blood spilled all over the floor.

The knife was sharp inside my heart. I gasped and fell backwards locking eyes with my murderer. But you know, I had it coming. So I wasn’t t all surprised, that’s why I didn’t scream. I didn’t deserve to have attention brought to my unfortunate ending. I deserved it, yes. Could I have stopped it? No. My murder knew what they were doing, the perfect plan, the perfect alibi. I didn’t know how he was going to get caught.

But the others are smart. Maybe a little odd, but smart. This dinner party gone wrong is just what they needed to take them out of their shells. Maybe if I’m luck they will take pity on me and take down my killer. But for some reason I doubt it. I don’t believe the fates are in my favor.

Chapter One

The one who found me was Penelope. Dear sweet Penelope. She gave quite a scream like a little girl. I’m sure the sight of me was not pleasant. Knife inside me, blood staining the white carpet of the billiard room.

To tell you the truth it kind of hurt when I died, I want it to hurt everyone else seeing me like this like how it hurt me. It was in a way, my little revenge on their soft innocent minds. I knew even if I had to be murdered, I could rest knowing I would leave my dinner guests with a problem they deserved to clean up. It’s all part of my little game I set up.

After Penelope screamed, the men came running in, Tom, Brutus, Jim, and Arthur. They surrounded my body in shock. My murder was a very good actor, but to be fair his whole life is a play, it was never real. He played the game perfectly. Billiard room, perfect. I was the first and last game to be played in this haunted place.

Like I thought, they just left my body on the floor. How disgraceful. But, I was probably the worst dinner host ever know to the year 1932. Still, I think my guests should have known how crazy I was before coming for the weekend.

After leaving my body they ran into the lounge to figure out what to do next. Darn, I should have left them detailed instructions on how to proceed. Young Penelope was pale as a sheet. Tom the sociopath was staring out the window doing what he always does, think. Brutus sat quietly on the sofa like a gentleman. Jim was pacing peacefully. And Arthur, was kneeling down to Penelope holding her hand. He’s such a flirt.

“We have to find out whodunit.” Brutus said first.

“Why?” asked Arthur, the curious blond young man.

“Because the phone doesn’t work and we can’t call the police.” He stood up and pointed out the window. “It’s snowing a storm and we can’t leave the house until it dies down. There is a murder in this house, wouldn’t you want to find out who it is if you have to spend the weekend with him?”

Penelope stood up quickly and pushed past Arthur worshipping her feet. Her blond curly hair sprang up with her. “That’s it! I’m leaving this place! I’ve always hated it.” She ran out of the lounge headed towards the stairs.

“Penelope! You will freeze!” Yelled Arthur.

“Going out in the cold is inadvisable.” Said Tom with a flat voice. He gave that girl just a second of thought to look at her then he went back to staring at the window. The snow falling heavily. His dark curly black hair made him look mysterious, even if he wasn’t already. He must have been mysterious in the womb.

“I don’t care!” Penelope’s high-pitched voice echoed across the house as her feet stomped up the creaky old stairs.

“We have to do something.” Brutus said “We can’t let a murder run around the house! There is a woman we need to protect!”

“I’m sure the woman can take care of herself,” said Tom softly looking over his shoulder.

“What if the girl is the murder?” yelled Jim. He was a tall young man of twenty years. He had grey eyes and wild but short mousey brown hair.

“She isn’t!” Arthur snapped at him

“How do you know?” Jim yelled back

“I just do!”

“I may be young, but I have reasoning in me brain.”

Arthur laughed

“I know an idiot when I see one too!” Jim’s Irish accent got thicker when he yelled.

“Leave the British to deal with their own problems!” Arthur knew which buttons to press on Jim.

“Now there was no need for that…” started Brutus but he was cut off

“I was the dead ladies godson!” bellowed Jim.

“One heck of a mother.” Mumbled Tom spacing himself out from the conversation.

“How would you know?” asked Brutus accusatively.

“He ain’t know,” spat Jim “She was a good mother.”

“Well she would have been if she had any kids!” offered Brutus “But she didn’t… have any kids I mean.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jim “But she was like a mother to me. Housed me here when me parents kicked me out.”

“Why did they kick you out?” Arthur chuckled and sat across the couch from Jim crossing his legs.

“That’s none of your business mister!” shouted Jim getting red in the face.

The sound of small feet prancing down the steps made all the men stop arguing and turn to see the owner of them. Penelope came into the lounge doorway wearing a cloth hat and a giant blue scarf. She carried her suitcase with clothes spilling out from being thrown inside. “I’m leaving…. Goodbye.”

Arthur, Brutus, and Jim all stood up quickly with worried looks on their faces. The eighteen year old left the room and walked further down the hall to the front door. Arthur followed, but Brutus grabbed his shirt and pushed him back on top of the couch. He then proceeded with Jim to the front door after the girl.

Penelope flung open the wood door to find the harsh winter. A gust of wind flew into the house and almost knocked her over. Brutus walked up behind her and reached over her head. He closed the door with his strong middle aged hands. “That was not a good idea.” He said gently.

“You’re not my father!” She stomped her foot.

“But I’m smart, and I know what’s best for you, for all of us.”

“Don’t act like you’re handling this, like you’re in charge!” she yelled in his face.

“He is the oldest…” replied Jim

“I don’t care! And he’s not the smartest! Mr. Butler is.” She informed the whole household with her loud voice.

Tom Butler smirked from inside the lounge laughing to himself.

“Well if you think that that psychopath knows what to do in this situation, then be my guest, go ask him.” He lowered his voice dramatically and hissed into her ear. “Between you and me, I think it was that mad man who killed Roxanne. But f you want to side with a murder, be my guest!”

Penelope’s face went white. She dropped her suitcase on the cold hard floor and pushed Brutus away from her. She ran up the stairs again like a little girl who had just been reprimanded. “Penelope!” Brutus yelled with slight worry in his tone.

Jim gave him the stink eye and walked down the hall, away from the crazy men who had been invited to this so called party.

“Did he really call me a psychopath?”