It probably wasn't meant to happen that way.
Although it makes it much more intriguing. For those who like a taste of cleverness, this would for sure entice their pallet. A taste of mystery, a taste of murder. A taste of irony.
The most ironic part, however, was they never got to finish their game.
"Miss Scarlet in the dining room with the candle stick." Ollie stared down at the game board, eyes narrowing. He liked board games and liked to play them well. Strategy was everything, quietness was key. He was confident and clever when it came to games like these. Critical games, daresay.
Brynn leaned over to disprove Oliver's suggestion. She had the candle stick card and was determined to win against Ollie. Out of the seven people staring each other down at the game room table, she picked Ollie out as her biggest competitor. It was his unsuspicious-ness that made him suspicious.
Ollie muttered something under his breath. Brynn sat back in her chair with a smirk. Now all she had to do was find the correct weapon and she could win.
"Hey, do you guys want to break for some snacks?" Whitney broke in. Brynn slumped in her seat. She wasn't even sure why she came to Whitney's house if she never really liked her.
Whitney was one of those girls who flounced around everywhere, picking up friends like flowers. She was rich and wasn't afraid to flaunt it, obnoxious and oblivious to it, and girly in the most stereotypical sense of the word. Her sadness was fake and mascara purposefully not waterproof. She lived in a bubble the size of a mansion, which her parents let her use on the weekends for parties. She was almost too perfect of a poor, sweet victim.
"I'm not hungry," Keo said in his typical cold voice. Whitney must have been deaf, because no one was friends with Keo unless forced to be. He was a muscular football player, therefore largely intimidating, and avoided everyone as everyone avoided him.
"Aww, come on guys, it's getting creepy. I mean, who plays Clue at two o'clock in the morning?" Whitney giggled. But it was a nervous giggle, probably because she was the hostess, and everyone knew what happened to the host in Clue.
Amber started to rise from her chair. "Well, I'm hungry, and Whit's right, it's creepy sittin' with y'all playin' a murder game. How bout we take a break for five minutes?" she drawled, her deep southern accent flaring. Amber was from Georgia and wore her accent like a trademark. Out of all the guests at Whitney's mansion, Amber was most like Whitney. They had met in college and bonded immediately in their little bubble worlds. Or, at least, Whitney's bubble world. Amber's was... different.
The other guests begun to rise. Amber was a dictator of sorts: whatever she said, goes. This was what confused and interested Josh, the way one person could command a room, and another could blend into the background. Being a blender himself, he often observed the ways of others. Which made him quite good at his new sport. If you could call it one.
The last guest to file out of the room was Zoe. Shutting the door behind her self discreetly, she slipped off the bathroom aside from the game room as the others headed towards the kitchen. There were six bathrooms in the house, three full and three half. Zoe had stumbled upon the third half bathroom, after finding herself in the other two earlier in the evening. Looking at herself in the mirror, at her deep brown skin, her eyes sunken due to lack of sleep, and her frizzy brown hair she neglected to comb, Zoe took a deep breath. The night had taken some unexpected turns she wasn't prepared for. Now she began to doubt if she was prepared enough in the first place.
Zoe narrowed her eyes at herself. She would have to find a way. She could not go the entire night without completing her mission. Or at least, someone completing it for her.
By 2:36 am, on July 12 of 2017, Whitney Rowlingsfield was in the living room, murdered, and all six house guests were gone.