Post by Taryn on May 17, 2004 20:55:09 GMT -5
Taryn Greer MRJH-Parks
Language-6 April 2004
Henry slowly made his way up to the aged and weathered house. The bare trees drummed against the windows, and combined with the howling wind, they created an eerie setting that sent shivers up Henry’s spine. He opened the door and walked into the dining room, where the others were waiting for him. He hadn’t been here since he was ten years old; back then it was much more elegant. His mother’s aunt had definitely let the place go in her senile state, but she was gone now. That was why he was here. The elderly man in front of a fireplace cleared his throat.
“The reading of Amelia Henderson’s will shall now commence.” He declared. The man was well manicured, and held a somewhat bitter atmosphere. He had been Amelia’s Lawyer, and had pressured and advised her to include him in the will even up until the day she died. He reached into his elegant Briefcase and pulled out a paper, then cleared his throat once more. His eyes widened when he saw the paper.
“Uh...Ladies and Gentlemen, it appears a new difficulty has arisen…”
“While we’re young Alfred!” Yelled a man sitting in the corner. He wore a spotted tie and a fake silk shirt. He gold capped teeth gleamed behind his smug smile. This is Vernon, but vermin would probably be a better term. He’s Henderson’s brown nosing nephew, but Amelia was too smart to fall for his act, that didn’t deter Vernon from trying. He sales cars at his fathers lot, many of them probably stolen.
Alfred Glared and continued his speech.
“It seems that the will is missing.”
“That’s because there never was one.” A voice cut in. A tall slender figure stepped out from the shadows of the room. Her Blue Eyes cut like steel through the darkness.
“That’s absurd. I helped Ms. Henderson write it two weeks before her death. And who might you be?” His eyes showed both curiosity and irritation.
“What you didn’t know though, is that after you left She burned it in that fireplace. She told me that she hadn’t been clear of mind, and that you had pressured her into much of it. And as to who I am, My name is Barbara. I was Ms. Henderson’s….errand girl, you might say.” Henry stood up, almost knocking over his chair. He walked toward Barbara, his hands shaking.
“No…They…they told me you had died…I..” He took a deep breath, and his expression turned dark.
“I know Henry.” Said Barbara, her voice turning soft, but filled with regret. “I was dead. At least according to this country. Ms. Henderson had sent me on a missi- er, errand, and I got into some trouble. It’s a long story, not worth telling. The point is that I’m Back Henry. I’m back.” She looked at him, a hint of hope surfaced in her blue eyes. He sighed and looked down. She began to say more, but Vernon cut in.
“If there is no will, then who will get all of the money and possessions?”
“Ms. Henderson left me with her instructions shortly before her death.” She reached into the pocket of her long leather jacket, pulling out a crumpled paper. She unfolded it and began to read from it.
" Gather here, my dear my dear,
The child and the lawyer,
The jester and the agent
In the confines of the foyer.
The salesman, stay on the stair,
Wait for the clock's last strike.
And when the darkness passes,
Leave be the crystal pike."
The five people exchanged glances. Henry shrugged and followed the orders by walking to the foyer. The others soon came after him, and Vernon took his place on the stairs.
“While we’re waiting…would someone mind telling me why Even though I’m eighteen, I’m still referred to as ‘The child’” Cut in a slow, deep voice. The others sighed and rolled their eyes. Alfred let out a small groan. This is Abigail Landon. Her cold gray eyes glared at the others. She wore her long brown hair down, the curled tip reaching the small of her back, and was clad in a Short black dress. Her young face showed little emotion except for the hint of annoyance.
“Perhaps if you would change your childish attitude, people would treat you with a bit more respect.” Alfred sneered. He had known Abigail since she was born, and even then he had not cared for her. There had been a few occasions where he had to act as a babysitter for her, which had not helped their strained relationship.
“What did she mean? ’The clocks last strike.’” asked Henry, hoping to break the tension in the room.
“She meant midnight. She hated that word, it was one of her many quirks.”
“but then what about the darkness?” asked Vernon. Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but at that very moment the lights in the house flickered and then went out, causing Abigail to let out a small surprised squeak.
The darkness only lasted a few short minutes, which was filled with tension and a bit of fear. When the lights came back on Henry glanced around, checking to see if everything was all right. His eyes stopped and widened when they rested on Vernon, who lay on the stairs. He was lying down, tears were finding their way down his cheek, his expression was wide-eyed and open mouth, staring at the ceiling. And wedged into his chest was a bloody crystal pike.
“Vernon!” He shouted, he ran to the stairs and the others followed. Vernon gasped for air, causing the pike buried in his chest to rise and fall, only harming him further. “Barbra! You’re experienced with medics and such, can you help him?”
She moved closer to him, her face was twisted with worry. “I don’t think I can, Henry. It’s just too deep.” Vernon gasped once more, and began to speak in a barely audible whisper.
“Their face...That smirk.. they..”
“They What!?” Yelled Alfred.
“They....”Vernon’s head fell onto the stairs, his breathing immediately stopped.
“Wonderful, We’re stuck here in the middle of winter with a murder that has a face and the ability to smirk.” Said Alfred who seemed barely shaken. “Come on, we need to move him.” The others all exchanged silent glances but agreed and carried his body to the backyard. Once they walked back inside everyone was silent. Barbara was the first to say something.
“We aren’t going to find out who did this by saying nothing. We need to look at the facts. Vernon is dead for only a few obvious reasons. One, someone wanted his part of the nonexistent will, they hate him that much, or we’re stuck in some horrid reality where we’re just characters in some girls poor excuse for a mystery. We also know that one of us is a murderer, and that Ms. Henderson’s money is still up for grabs.”
Language-6 April 2004
Henry slowly made his way up to the aged and weathered house. The bare trees drummed against the windows, and combined with the howling wind, they created an eerie setting that sent shivers up Henry’s spine. He opened the door and walked into the dining room, where the others were waiting for him. He hadn’t been here since he was ten years old; back then it was much more elegant. His mother’s aunt had definitely let the place go in her senile state, but she was gone now. That was why he was here. The elderly man in front of a fireplace cleared his throat.
“The reading of Amelia Henderson’s will shall now commence.” He declared. The man was well manicured, and held a somewhat bitter atmosphere. He had been Amelia’s Lawyer, and had pressured and advised her to include him in the will even up until the day she died. He reached into his elegant Briefcase and pulled out a paper, then cleared his throat once more. His eyes widened when he saw the paper.
“Uh...Ladies and Gentlemen, it appears a new difficulty has arisen…”
“While we’re young Alfred!” Yelled a man sitting in the corner. He wore a spotted tie and a fake silk shirt. He gold capped teeth gleamed behind his smug smile. This is Vernon, but vermin would probably be a better term. He’s Henderson’s brown nosing nephew, but Amelia was too smart to fall for his act, that didn’t deter Vernon from trying. He sales cars at his fathers lot, many of them probably stolen.
Alfred Glared and continued his speech.
“It seems that the will is missing.”
“That’s because there never was one.” A voice cut in. A tall slender figure stepped out from the shadows of the room. Her Blue Eyes cut like steel through the darkness.
“That’s absurd. I helped Ms. Henderson write it two weeks before her death. And who might you be?” His eyes showed both curiosity and irritation.
“What you didn’t know though, is that after you left She burned it in that fireplace. She told me that she hadn’t been clear of mind, and that you had pressured her into much of it. And as to who I am, My name is Barbara. I was Ms. Henderson’s….errand girl, you might say.” Henry stood up, almost knocking over his chair. He walked toward Barbara, his hands shaking.
“No…They…they told me you had died…I..” He took a deep breath, and his expression turned dark.
“I know Henry.” Said Barbara, her voice turning soft, but filled with regret. “I was dead. At least according to this country. Ms. Henderson had sent me on a missi- er, errand, and I got into some trouble. It’s a long story, not worth telling. The point is that I’m Back Henry. I’m back.” She looked at him, a hint of hope surfaced in her blue eyes. He sighed and looked down. She began to say more, but Vernon cut in.
“If there is no will, then who will get all of the money and possessions?”
“Ms. Henderson left me with her instructions shortly before her death.” She reached into the pocket of her long leather jacket, pulling out a crumpled paper. She unfolded it and began to read from it.
" Gather here, my dear my dear,
The child and the lawyer,
The jester and the agent
In the confines of the foyer.
The salesman, stay on the stair,
Wait for the clock's last strike.
And when the darkness passes,
Leave be the crystal pike."
The five people exchanged glances. Henry shrugged and followed the orders by walking to the foyer. The others soon came after him, and Vernon took his place on the stairs.
“While we’re waiting…would someone mind telling me why Even though I’m eighteen, I’m still referred to as ‘The child’” Cut in a slow, deep voice. The others sighed and rolled their eyes. Alfred let out a small groan. This is Abigail Landon. Her cold gray eyes glared at the others. She wore her long brown hair down, the curled tip reaching the small of her back, and was clad in a Short black dress. Her young face showed little emotion except for the hint of annoyance.
“Perhaps if you would change your childish attitude, people would treat you with a bit more respect.” Alfred sneered. He had known Abigail since she was born, and even then he had not cared for her. There had been a few occasions where he had to act as a babysitter for her, which had not helped their strained relationship.
“What did she mean? ’The clocks last strike.’” asked Henry, hoping to break the tension in the room.
“She meant midnight. She hated that word, it was one of her many quirks.”
“but then what about the darkness?” asked Vernon. Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but at that very moment the lights in the house flickered and then went out, causing Abigail to let out a small surprised squeak.
The darkness only lasted a few short minutes, which was filled with tension and a bit of fear. When the lights came back on Henry glanced around, checking to see if everything was all right. His eyes stopped and widened when they rested on Vernon, who lay on the stairs. He was lying down, tears were finding their way down his cheek, his expression was wide-eyed and open mouth, staring at the ceiling. And wedged into his chest was a bloody crystal pike.
“Vernon!” He shouted, he ran to the stairs and the others followed. Vernon gasped for air, causing the pike buried in his chest to rise and fall, only harming him further. “Barbra! You’re experienced with medics and such, can you help him?”
She moved closer to him, her face was twisted with worry. “I don’t think I can, Henry. It’s just too deep.” Vernon gasped once more, and began to speak in a barely audible whisper.
“Their face...That smirk.. they..”
“They What!?” Yelled Alfred.
“They....”Vernon’s head fell onto the stairs, his breathing immediately stopped.
“Wonderful, We’re stuck here in the middle of winter with a murder that has a face and the ability to smirk.” Said Alfred who seemed barely shaken. “Come on, we need to move him.” The others all exchanged silent glances but agreed and carried his body to the backyard. Once they walked back inside everyone was silent. Barbara was the first to say something.
“We aren’t going to find out who did this by saying nothing. We need to look at the facts. Vernon is dead for only a few obvious reasons. One, someone wanted his part of the nonexistent will, they hate him that much, or we’re stuck in some horrid reality where we’re just characters in some girls poor excuse for a mystery. We also know that one of us is a murderer, and that Ms. Henderson’s money is still up for grabs.”