Ten Little Indians
Cluedo:
Yes, the house is built entirely by me. So is the island. Everything needs to be perfect in a way that captures what my thoughts of what Indian Island ought to look like. I used quite a bit of custom content myself, as well.
As for the suspicion of each other, that's only going to create more suspense later on as the number of guests dwindle...
Cluedo:
Philip Lombard eventually found Rogers. He was discovered by the little wood shed. Apparently, he had been chopping some wood early morning. When he made the discover, he made a shout out for everyone else to come outside...
The corpse itself was horrible, gruesome thing. The body of Mr. Rogers laid crumpled onto the ground, surrounded by a large pool of blood. Many of the remaining guests couldn't look, as they stopped dead in their tracks. Wood laid scattered about apparently having been neatly chopped for the fire. The axe had been wedged back into it's place on the stump. Apparently, the blade had been cleaned off after clearly being used to create the deep bloody wound in the back of Roger's head....
Dr. Armstrong took a step closer and bent down to examine the murdered butler...it didn't require much examining.
"Perfectly clear, " He announced, "Rogers had gone out to chop some wood. When he was done the murderer crept around from behind the shed and took the axe from the stump. When Rogers wasn't looking, he took the axe and swung it once! Bringing it down and splitting the butler's cranium open."
"Would it have needed great force, doctor?" Asked Wargrave.
"A woman could have done it if that's what you mean," Replied Dr. Armstrong as he glanced at both Vera and Miss Brent, "We are all still under equal suspicion."
"I quite understand," Answered Wargrave, "I don't believe it wouldn't require excessive brutal force. Sorry Miss Brent, but I think even those as elderly as you and I would still have been able to pack such a force."
Suddenly, they heard a shrill sound of laughter. They turned sharply...it was coming from Miss Claythorne!"
"Do they keep bees on the island!? Ha ha! Can you tell me that!? When do we go for honey!?"
It was as though the sane, well-balanced girl had gone mad before their very eyes! She continued in a high-unnatural voice..
"Oh don't stare at me like that! It's sane enough what I'm asking! Bees, hives, bees! Oh don't you understand!? It's up in all of your bedrooms....put there for you to study! We might have come here straight way if it had made sense. "Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks; one chopped himself in halves and then there were six." And I'll tell you the next verse. I know it by heart! "Six little Indian boys playing with a hive; a bumblebee stung one of them and then there were five!" And that's why I'm asking...do they keep bees on the island...isn't it funny? Isn't it damn funny!?"
She continued her horrible laugh again, until Dr. Armstrong finally came forward. He raised his hand and with a firm swing, struck her a flat blow across the cheek...
She gasped..hiccuped...and gulped. Then she said,
"T..thank you, I'm all right now."
Her voice was more calm and controlled again...the voice of a efficient games mistress.
Astral Faery:
Cool! I was just here and there's already another update! I figured it would be something like this, wow, look at all the blood. Nice job. Vera sure is a pretty little thing. I wonder which one of them will get stung. Looking forward to the next update.
Cluedo:
Roger's body had been taken inside by William Blore and Dr. Armstrong. His corpse disposed of in his room, laid on his bed. He and his wife finally reunited in spirit. After that was taken care of, the door to the servants room was closed and nobody else went in there again.
Blore then retired to the Kitchen where he found Vera Claythorne preparing breakfast.
"Is it just you all by yourself in here?" He asked, curiously.
"Miss Brent was in here to help for a while," Vera replied, "She was assisting in the preparation of the eggs, but she's left for a moment."
"Anything I could do?" Blore asked, eager to assist, "I am a domesticated sort of man. With the servants dead, I have no trouble to take over, if necessary."
"Perhaps you could help make the coffee," Vera requested, "Mr. Rogers didn't exactly have a chance to make some."
"Which reminds me," Blore suddenly wondered, "Hows the stock holding up?"
"It's bacon and eggs for breakfast mixed with some lettuce and potato," Vera answered back, sounding rather serious, "After that, there's only a stock-up on the tinned stuff. We will have to make to with that for lunch and dinner."
"And after..?"
"What do you mean after?" Vera answered, shooting a rather hard look a Blore which took him a little aback, "After the food runs out? Just maybe a boat will get us before then?"
They were suddenly both silent.
Upstairs, Emily Brent lay resting on her bed. She had been helping Vera all morning with breakfast. The situation on the island has really gotten to a dire point, even she would have to admit. The amount of food was reducing by every meal and the servants have both been murdered.
"Very stupid to kill the only servant in the house," She thought to herself, "I didn't know where to look for the marmalade!"
Of course, something as frivolous as marmalade was the least of her worries. Perhaps, she would admit that like the rest of them, she wanted to leave the island so desperately as well.
"None of us shall leave the island.." She thought, "Who said that? Ah yes, General MacArthur of course, who's cousin married Elsie MacPherson. He hadn't seemed to care...why he welcomed the idea! Wicked! Almost impious to feel that way. Some people think so little of death they actually take their own lives....like Beatrice Taylor."
Last night, she had dreamed of Beatrice....dreamt that she was outside, pressing her face against the window...moaning to be let in. But Emily Brent hasn't wanted to let her back in, because if she did....something terrible would happen.....
Lombard and Dr. Armstrong were both in the Parlor waiting for breakfast. In the meantime, they were discussing the recent events that occurred...
"Quite a slap you gave Vera back there," Commented Lombard.
"It was necessary," Answered back Armstrong in a honest tone, "We can't cope with hysteria along with everything else."
Lombard said,
"Vera's not the hysterical type."
"Oh no no no, certainly not," Agreed Dr. Armstrong, "Quite a sane, well-balanced girl she is, just a bout of shock that came upon her, what with that grizzly sight of Roger's body and all. Could have happened to anybody."
steelguy:
Ah yes, the days when slapping a hysterical woman was considered acceptable practice.
And she'd thank you for it. :smt120
You're one of the fastest updaters I'm reading at the moment, well done! I haven't actually read the original story, are you doing your own narrative, taking it straight from the book, or somewhere in between?
I'm liking it, anyway, if I haven't made that clear. :happy8:
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