Oh no!! I...died???

How does one die from sprained eyebrows? Quite curious. It was also a very unfortunate time to die, as I had just made a huge realization. Yes, I know who the murderer is. I'd located the final clue just as Bolton crashed into me. But alas...I died just as I was about to say there name. 

WAIT A SECOND!!!! I CAN JUST SAY THEIR NAME NOW!!! THEY ARE ------Mmmmmmmmffffffff!!!!!!---- 

*Is being blocked by some non-existant force*

Oh....

.......

Well, I may be seeing all of you sheep sooner than you think... *floats through the ceiling*

That. Was. Awesome. And admittedly creepy.... but extraordinarily good quality. Seamlessly beautiful. Astounding. And it makes me shudder... but I'd read it over and over and over because it was just that good. Okay then!

~SCYLLA'S LIST OF UN-SUSPECTS~

-Scylla

-Zeon

-Ashlee

-Ultron

-Bolton

-Princess

-Esthelle

-Kate-The-Great

~SCYLLA'S LIST OF SUSPECTS~

-Everyone else, chiefly Paris, Saphira, and HAB

~~

*lies crying on the bed* No!! Scylla!! Now I only have Charybdis! 

Hey! 

It'll all be over soon.... in, like, a month.... 

~~

And now if you don't mind, I'll write myself an epilogue.

~

Scylla's spirit drifted soundlessly away from her body. The gathering of mourners didn't see her as she rose through countless floors, countless rooms, to a tiny room. Not tiny, she corrected herself. Cozy. There were comfortable-looking armchairs, a warm fire crackling in a fireplace, and towering stacks and shelves of books. So many books....

The spirit settled herself into a red armchair, beside which was a small table. It was an ornate carving of cherrywood with a glass tabletop. On it lay a book. A special book, seemingly chosen from the shelves just for her. She picked it up, surprised that her incorporeal form could hold it. She read its title: Hidden. Its author was Scylla. 

She felt as if nothing could surprise her at this point. She picked up her book and flipped through it. Most of it was blank. It's all I've written, and all that is to come. Words of the story formulated in her head, and she touched her fingers to the first blank page. The words wrote themselves from her thoughts in a shimmering purple ink.

Scylla settled herself more comfortably in the chair and set to writing.

She was going to be there for a long time. 

Hmm... so this story has clues? I should look for them better. 

I think it might be Saphira . . . but of course, who knows if those are dragon claw marks? Why would Saphira claw at the floor instead of fleeing the scene. Also, if Scylla were dead for a long time, why would she now be running away from the scene and bump into Nova?

Day Nine

Metaphors. Aren’t they funny? For some reason they allow you to compare cheese and planets and still seem relatively sane. It’d be awfully sorry to let the world in on your secret that you're actually rather insane. But no matter. What were we talking about?

Ah yes.

And if metaphors make little sense while pretending to actually do so, irony and sarcasm are far worse. l mean really. Who thought of the method of speech that allows a person to say the exact opposite of what they mean? It doesn’t make sense! It could tear the world apart! What if a military general was being sarcaustic about launching a missal? Or the president while taking their presidential oath? What if a witness swears to “say the truth, the truth and nothing but the truth” and are merely being sarcastic?

As now l have given you some examples, l am assured that you will be able to think up of dozens more cases where sarcasm threatens the entries safety of the world. Such a simple tone of speech could very well end humanity.

And most certainly no one is letting such a dangerous thing at the fingertips of the public. After part of the galaxy had been lost because of sarcasm, it was a near universal decision that sarcasm must be contained, locked up in the darkest and loneliest place, to never see the universe again. And what do you know, the darkest part of the galaxy is right here, good old planet Earth, in the darkest place here, the good old Hotel Le’Faye.

No one (except The Teller) knew of this powerful weapon that resided here. However, someday, all safes will become unsafe, all cages can be broken out of.

Quietly quietly, the deadly sarcasm leaks out of its cage, until it slithers out like some vile snake, seeking to cause chaos in anything it touched.

The first victim it finds is a human female by the name of Novelist. The sarcasm surrounds and engulfs her. She blinks a few times, not noticing anything different. I must find someone to talk to. She thinks. For sarcasm is not a lonely thing, it needs to leap from mouth to mouth and from mind to mind to spread its poisonous evil.

“Kestrel! Wait! l wanted to tell you something!”

“What?”

“l think…” Novelist pauses. “l know! I think l want to burn down libraries and ban all books and writers! Yes! That's just the thing.”

Kestrel backs away, but alas, she is too late. The sarcasm has latched itself firmly into her mind. “You know what?” She says to no one in particular. “l love spiders! Aren’t they just the cutest little things! Especially when their greedy fangs stab into your skin! It’s fun!”

Quill perks up. “You know what, l think this is the best time of my life! Ashlee and Zeon are dead and l'm left alone. Hooray.”

“l bet this place has turned Moon into the most logical and rational person.” Richard says to Tara.  

“You can swim so well that l bet you could swim through that vat of honey over there.” Nova informs Beth.

“Oh really? I think l could, too!”

“.....that was sarcasm.” Nova mutters, as Beth runs off to the nonexistent vat of honey, which as it appears is actually real. Beth cannot swim.

Saphira frowns at Paris.

“You are the meanest, most violent, person l know! Your gaze is like daggers!” Paris nearly bursts into tears.

“That was just sarcasm.” Saphira mutters. Sydney, overhearing this, grins to herself.

“Erm….hello Ellak. You know, you’re a really quiet dragon…..maybe you should like….jump off a cliff?” (She had yet to forget last night’s episode.)

“Oh really? Why think you, that is a brilliant idea.”

“I'm not going to set that wall on fire!” Shadow shouts, as she promptly sets the wall on fire. Emerald yelps, jumping away from the flames. “And these not-flames of this wall you aren’t burning aren't hot!”

“Oh really?” Curious, Chary thinks it’s a good idea to stick a hand in the not-hot not-flames of the not-burning wall.

She jumps back. “That most definitely wasn’t really hot fire.”

As you can see, chose was very quickly wreaked by this powerful force. But it’s getting worse…..

Mirax can’t cook. Of course she knows this. However watch as the sarcasm does its magic….

“l can cook!” She proclaims. “And l‘m not brandishing a chef's knife like a sword!”

“l’m not trying to cut up carrots!” She thusly proclaims to anyone and everyone at the same time. “l haven’t just possibly cut off several of my fingers!” She pours the carrots and fingers into a pot of boiling water. “l want someone to come over here and try this!”

Like an obliging sheep, Bella trots over to help Mirax. “There aren’t fingers in this soup!” She declares. “I'm definitely going to eat this as well”

“Oh yes, that sounds like a very good idea.” Mrs. Elton says, nodding.

“You should eat it!” Sprankje yells over to her. “it's probably really safe.” Bella looks confused for a few seconds. “Um, okay. If you say so.”

Meanwhile, MP is busy throwing pies at people. Which is actually pretty fun, even if you don’t hit them.

“l don’t like pies! I'm not insane!”
She calls to someone as they are subsequently pied. This someone, however is not pleased at all.

“Why you know, MP.” Daisy growls not evening trying to sound friendly, “l think you should go stab yourself in the heart with Mirax chef's knife.”

MP blinks for a few seconds. “Hrm. You do know that it sounds like a good idea.”

“Wait, what? That was sarcasm, MP!” Daisy rushes after her, but either half-heartedly or not in time, because MP has grabbed Mirax's knife and stabbed herself.

“l didn’t mean that.” Daisy sobs, somewhat over dramatically.

“That’s fruit punch, l think” H.A.B. says, commenting on MP’s blood.

“She didn’t stab herself!” Hallia gasps.

“She’s not dead!” Bookworm claims. No one believed her. Sarcasm does have its limits.

“I'm sorry and that is fruit punch.” The Teller does not sound amused, appearing in a plume of smoke. “Who didn’t let the sarcasm free? Who didn’t know what it?”

All hands go up.

“No, this is working, people aren’t dying. Everyone is alive. Most certainly alive.” She sighs. “This is working and l'm not going to try again because l most certainly am not confusing myself and everyone.”

“I'm not confused!” Alexandra tells her.”l love this place and know exactly what’s going on.”Jarvis, too chimes in about her not-confusedness, as well as Brian and Brookeria.

“This is the most enjoyable experience l've ever had!”

“I really hope that that was sarcasm.” The Teller informs her.

“What shouldn’t we do about MP?” Sandra asks.

The Teller shrugs. “She’s fine and not dead. Everything’ll be alright and no one will ever die.”

~~~~~~~

Not the end of not Day Nine. Not dead: MP.

*blinks* *stares*

That most definitely won't give me nightmares.

And that was the most boring, devoid of sarcasm thing I have ever read.

And I LOVE depressing pamphlets!

And Saphira is definitely the murderer! 

And I am most definitely logical and rational. 

And I'm not going crazy at all.  

Well, then... That was... definitely not confusing!

*Crosses Masked Piester off the list*

Day Ten

Alexandra elbows Bookworm. “What was this about?” She whispers.

“l don’t know. Something about avant garde or something.”

“What’s that?”

“No idea.”

The theater around them is im, the audience is quieting. The thick, red curtains draw back to reveal a completely empty stage. The lights abruptly switch off, leaving them to blink in complete darkness. Suddenly, someone screams. “It bit me!” Paris yelps. “Something bit me!”

The lights on stage suddenly switch on, bright and stark. There’s still no one on stage.

“Oh my stars!” Fia yelps. “It’s coming for me too!”

Scrambling ensures at one end of the theater, as the audience tries to avoid this mysterious thing. Unexpectedly, however, Jarvis finds herself unable to move a muscle, and left to face whatever everyone is screaming about. She blinks. “People….” She says carefully. “You know it’s just a sheep, right?”

“Sheep can bite!” Daisy shoots back from the other side of the theater. “Sheep are dangerous!” Nova chimes in.

The speakers turn on with a click. Fuzzy static fills the air, before the voice of someone starts speaking in a manner that sounds like a recording. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will look starboard, you will see a majestic school of sharks swimming alongside us.” There is a slight pause. “Now don’t worry, l’m sure nothing bad will---AHHH THE SHARKS ARE JUMPING ABOARD--” The voice is cut off. Quill discovers a life jacket attached the seat before her. Before she can wonder what it’s for, everyone is dosed with a rather pitiful bucketful of water. A clattering of plastic fish follow after it.

“Ouch.” Swummer grumbles, as she is overtaken by a flood of plastic fish that don’t stop.

Mirax dodges a full-sized and very real anchor that falls from the ceiling.

And for a few thankful moments, nothing happens.

The stage lights dim. A confused looking sheep wanders on the stage.

A collection of various stabby-stabby things, knives, swords, machetes, maces, arrows, fall around the sheep, seemingly to avoid hitting it.

(“Poor sheep.” Brian mutters.)

Every other theater seat disappears.

“What is evening going on?” Novelist demands, enraged.

“l think we’re all going crazy.” Tara tells Richard.

More stabby-stabby things fall on the sheep, and this time they don’t miss. Hallia winces.

Paper snowflakes falls from the ceiling, slowly drifting down on everyone. Bella  and Fia start randomly teleporting. The speakers starts playing some very cheerful, peppy music. Sydney starts dancing, before nearly being suffocated by by the paper snowflakes.

The neon red Exit signs starts blinking rapidly.

Various household furniture rolls onto stage, including two chairs, each holding a scarecrow. With a grinding of gears, the two scarecrows stand up and began to move in unison, until one of them runs into a table. The other one starts pacing around the table.

The television, sitting on a bookshelf filled with German history books, clicks on, but it only shows grey static and stale excitement.

“Wait…..there’s not just mechanical, they’re--”

Emerald’s realization comes a bit too late, as the two scarecrows promptly explode. She slowly looks up as the dust settles. The house lights have come on again. She takes a deep breath, trying to get her wits about her. She is failing, her wits aren’t coming anywhere near her. She doubts everyone else’s wits are faring much better.

“Well, it seem to be intermission.” She mutters to herself, glancing around. Thankfully most everyone seems to be in one piece. Alright. What is going on? Nothing that seems the slightest bit predictable. What was this again? Avant garde?

New and experimental ideas in the arts. That’s what this is. That's why it's so strange!

“Eureka!” She finds herself, quite suddenly, on the stage, looking out the the theater and the people. Before she can say anything, Bella  and Fia teleport there beside her, looking confused. “Hey, l--” All of the light flickers off. Emerald suddenly feels that being here is a very bad place to be right now. After a few seconds or so, the lights flicker back on. Bella is lying on the stage.

“Et tu, Brute?” She moans. “Then fall, Caesar.” Fia gasps melodramatically, also lying on the stage. Emerald is curiously nowhere to be seen.

Charybdis is getting nervous, too, She doesn’t like this at all.

“This isn’t right. This--”

She is abruptly silenced by a bucket of seawater. Kestrel is frightened. “l think l'll just leave now….” She says quietly. But if there was an exit before, there is none now. This playwright very much wants their audience to see it all. Which is actually rather disturbing.

Ellak winces, unable to look away as more, random objects are pushed onto the stage by invisible hands.

“This is truly the most disturbing thing l have ever seen.” he tell no one, as a sofa runs into a fish tank, and a full-sized dining table is pushed into the mess of furniture. What appears to be gasoline is poured over it, and a burning match tossed into it.

Bella, either not dead yet, acting, or confused, keeps moaning. Fia follows along.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears….”

This would be slightly amusing if not that the rest of the audience has to fight off red herring that keep leaking from the literal woodwork.

“How is this even possible?” Silvery says, knee deep in the kippers.

The fish flop melodramatically around, eventually seeming to converge on H.A.B. good news for everyone else, bad news for him.

“They must think you’re some sort of red herring.” Saphira says.

“What?”

“Oh you know...things and stuff.” She waves her hands around. Moon just shakes her head and sighs.

The curtains seems to have caught flames and are burning down in a brilliant, majestic grand finale.

Everyone else has fled, frightened by the avant garde. Saphira does not.

She stands there, for the longest time, watching the flames roar around her and the cinders drifting through the air. She watches Bella and Fia finally get eaten by the flames, their graves a stage, their buriers eternal fire.

The red herrings quickly avoid her, as she stands there.

~~~~~~

End Day Ten. Death Toll: Bella and Fia. Rest in peace.

WOW. THAT WAS WEIRD. 

Saphira: Fire. Not a bad way to go. Stay away from the red herrings! 

(You are Shadow Dragon, right?) 

Oh, no! Not Bella! Not sweet, innocent, cute, adorable, young, little BELLA! NO! You were an amaznig Æ... *Sobs*

Hey! You werent' this sad when I died!

But... Bella's more sweet, innocent, cute, adorable, young, and little!

I... died. Well, it didn't hurt as much as I expected. But I expected a longer life. I thought I was supposed to die when Grandma died? She was 98. Why am I not 98? *Cries* I don't wanna die, though!

Bella... Bella... Bella...

She was a good friend... *sigh* I guess I didn't want her to die after all. Good luck, Alexandra. Don't die.

Yes. Don't die, Alexandra. 

Ahh, experiencing a ski lodge.... Brings back some good memories. I remember all the charts I drew to keep my crew straight, and all the diagrams of Hotel Prismarine, and all the graphic organizers. It was fun. 

Am I gonna die?

I don't even know. Once they took Scylla, everything crumbled. Anything could happen....

I don't want to die yet. I haven't talked to Wingnut in a long time.

Nice priorities.

What? I--you know what, it doesn't even matter. *pulls out popcorn from Hotel Prismarine*

...