Day Five — Afternoon

The murderer looked down at the notebook apprehensively. It was a small thing, with a battered silk cover the dusky color of the sky just after sunset. If they tilted it in the right direction with the proper lighting, they could swear that they could see the evening star. They didn’t want to tilt it though, or even to touch it. This notebook… this notebook had the power to end it all. Somehow, the killer had broken the most important rule. Rule Number Five.

Don’t Get Caught.

Yet, somehow, they had dropped a clue, a hint as to who they were, what they had done. And the girl had seen it, picked it up and treasured it like a pearl in a chest of chaff. The one person who might, perhaps, be able to use the information she had and shape it into a narrative — most likely not a cohesive one, but when has a ski lodge ever been truly cohesive? She had almost caught on, she had been a moment away from realizing what she knew. A second later, and it would have been too late.

No, no,

It’s fine, the murderer reassured themself. She didn’t figure it out. She didn’t realize. And with those words ringing in their ears, the killer opened the notebook and read what the girl had written.

A Collection of Notes, Thoughts, Ponderings, and Clues

Compiled by Luna-Starr

1. Zachary knows something. I don’t think he quite knows what he knows, though.

2. There is only one correct way to eat corn on the cob.

3. Snow is kind of scary. No, more than kind of. That child really scares me.

4. Sammy Everlast is important.

5. Music has power.

And then, right on that very paper. The killer’s name, and that single, vital clue.

...If only the rules would relax…

***

Zachary knows something.

Zachary Sìtheil Rìoghochad was on his phone again. He had a personal hotspot. That bit of data should have been enough to boost the phone signals, to send a single text message to his brother. Only a few words, but so important.

I love you, Alex. If anything happens, don’t forget me.

But it wouldn’t send. What kind of monsters were keeping him here, on this island, unable to escape or even to tell his little brother that he loved him? Why couldn’t he send a single text? And what was that something, those words that kept nagging at his mind, distracting him from everything else. Even now, when he had the perfect right to a mental breakdown after worrying over his brother, those words kept him sane. They were important. The words knew… something.

***

There is only one correct way to eat corn on the cob.

Nightfall, though, had no special knowledge, no nagging words that were able to keep xyr mind away from the knowledge that Inari was dead, gone. No longer there for xem to nag and argue and joke with. There was no one xey could talk to about what the right way to eat corn on the cob was, because no one but Inari could understand why that was important to make certain. No Inari to complain to about how tired xey was and how much xey needed ice cream right that very minute or else there was a high possibility of internal combustion after becoming unbearably hot because that’s what happens when you chase someone around a cabin 57 times in a place with high temperatures. No ice cream. No corn. And, most of all, no Inari.

***

Snow is kind of scary.

Yes. Yes, she was. For, at the very moment that the murderer read those words, the seven-year-old in question was screeching at the top of her high pitched voice for Autumn Artist to get off her bed that very instant and go shoot those awful mosquitos with her bow and arrow. No matter that the mosquitoes were quite as friendly as blood sucking insects could possibly be, no matter that the camp owned no arrows with points small enough to precisely hit the tiny bugs, no matter that being shot with projectile weapons would probably make the currently sleepy mosquitos mad enough to bit anyone within a ten-thousand mile radius of them.

The mosquitos had to go.

If someone disagreed with Snow… well. There would be consequences.

And it was very likely that those consequences would include extra-sharp fingernails and a toddler-worthy tantrum.

***

Sammy Everlast is important.

Sammy agreed. She was, in fact, very important. She was also still angry. One of her AEs was dead, the other was melting in longing for his little brother. She would get her revenge. And she knew something. Something very, very essential. Maybe she should tell the person who was always nagging her for clues. After all, they were the only person who was truly sympathetic to her. Then again, the nagging was getting annoying, and this was special. Maybe Sammy should keep it to herself.

Maybe then she would be able to stop the killer with her own bare hands.

***

Music has power.

Yes. The killer knew that better than anyone. The music in this place had power indeed, more power than they could really understand. All they knew was that it was a tool, like a hammer and nails they could use to pound an idea into a camper’s head. The magic was powerful indeed. A single note could change the course of destiny.

If the murderer had believed in destiny, of course. Which they didn’t. Each person to themself, they thought. No one’s fate is written in the stars.

No one can control you except for yourself.

They had never been more wrong.

***

The girl with the frizzy hair was afraid.

She knew who the killer was, and she had thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to stop them. But she couldn’t. She had thought that she was close enough to the puppet master to take the strings. She wasn’t. She thought she knew what was going on.

She was really, really wrong.

***

The challenge for this afternoon is our first writing-based challenge! (Believe me, there are plenty to come.) Please write a short story about a swim meet. Perhaps you will take the point of view of the judge, a swimmer, or even the pool itself. I know that some people may consider themselves to be talented writers, and others may consider writing to not be their strong suit. Nevertheless, please participate as as much as you can. We look forward to seeing your stories!

***

Dead: 5 (Hot Coco, Ydris "Masquerade" Dìomhaireachd, Felix, Inari, and Sunmer. May they rest in peace in the glory of Camp Juniper)

Day Five — Evening

The air around the dining table was tense.

Part of that may have been that Liberté had insisted that every five days, the campers had to have a formal meal together, five courses plus dessert over a mahogany table. Part of it may have been that no one brought any formal clothing to an outdoor summer-y camp (Liberté didn’t understand their reasoning), and so they had to borrow from the camp wardrobe, which had only two options: the sort of tuxedo you might wear to prom or a wedding, and a sort of medieval princess gown, which, according to Snow, was 100% historically accurate.

Almost everyone chose the tuxedos. The dresses were better fitting — for some reason, the counselors seemed to have gotten everyone’s exact measurements, fitted each gown to the t, and made sure that no one could perfectly fit into any of the suits — but they were also made of heavy brocade velvet that probably cost about a million dollars. No one wanted to get steak sauce on something like that. And, more importantly, they didn’t want to have to run from a murderer in something like that. Not that any of the victims actually had the chance to run away, but you never know what might happen.

Or part of the tenseness  may have been the fact that a quarter of their companions were dead and Liberté insisted on setting places for them at the table. But it was more likely because of the clothing.

Everyone was in the kitchen. The Lilac Cabin, consisting of Nerd, Zach, dreamii, Braoin, and Kitty were on Kitchen Duty, helping Palenia Piper add the finishing touches to her meal. Everyone else was sneakily eating the finishing touches, and when the cook finally finished and loaded everything onto an enormous Dinner Cart, she was followed by an entire camp into the dining room. Or, rather, the door outside the dining room, where the amazing, incredible, beloved Palenia Piper would stand for the next hour or so, occasionally entering to present a new course.

The campers peeked their heads around the doorway all at once in the sort of way that people do a lot in movies but seems creepy and unrealistic.

The table was round.

Aspen made an extremely bad pun about the knights of the round table, the fact that they were eating at a round table, the fact that knights die a lot, and the fact that Nightfall was wearing a dress similar to something that someone needing to be rescued by a knight might wear. Half the group groaned loudly and the other half inched away from Night, who started yelling about the fact that xe had no need to be rescued by anyone ever, xe was perfectly strong, independent, and clever, and any dragon who wanted to eat xem must be sustaining severe mental damage if it thought that would be a good idea. Aspen shot back that no dragon or any other self-respecting sentient being would bear being called “it” and that is probably why the poor lizard would want to eat Nightfall, who then decided that it would be a good idea to throw half a steak and a large ladleful of mashed potatoes at Aspen to prove how strong, independent, and clever xe was. Aspen responded by screaming about the fact that a dead animal had just touched her, and threw a tofu steak at Night, who screamed about the fact that processed soybeans had just touched xem.

Then, Basil decided that the only way he would be able to eat his salad in peace is if the Food Knight and Food Night (which were the names given to the brave warriors by Ari) were escorted to their respective cabins and sent to bed without supper. Snow pointed out that they shared a cabin, to which Basil responded that, no, they didn’t anymore, because Aspen was moving into the Lilac Cabin with her. Nightfall stuck xyr tongue out at Aspen, who was quaking in her boots at the thought of spending the night in the same building as a small child with long nails. Snow was furious because she had to get a new camper. Liberté was furious to be deprived of a camper, but calmed down when Basil pointed out that she probably would not want to share a roof with both Aspen and Night, who were still screeching and throwing food at each other. Then, she got angry again after Sammy pointed out that she didn’t seem to care about being deprived of campers after they had died, so Basil decided that Liberté should spend some time in their private lounge before she started to throw food as well. Liberté’s anger did, at least, calm Snow down, so she was relatively sweet for the rest of the evening.

A few minutes later, Aspen was shivering because she was now sleeping in Summer’s old bed. Apparently, no one had thought that it would be a bad idea to put her in the same bed as the girl whose cold, dead body she had found by the lake that morning, causing a mental breakdown. Or, if they did think of that, it didn’t matter.

Then, as she shivered, Aspen remembered that Summer had probably been shivering before she died. This made Aspen both much warmer and much, much colder, a contradiction that made her brain so tired that she finally fell asleep to dream about snowflakes with the face of a girl.

It wasn’t until much later, after Aspen had fallen asleep, Liberté had calmed down and returned, Palenia Piper had recooked her multi-course meal in, and Basil had cleaned down the walls of the dining room (which was the multi-purpose/funeral room serving one of its multiple purposes), wiped down the table, and hunted down a new table cloth, that dinner was finally served for real.

It was fantastic, despite being eight at night and peppered with anger and illness.

The argument over the appetizers was only light. No one can be supremely furious over Caprese salad crackers, especially when the mozzarella is fresh and homemade and the basil was picked just minutes earlier. In fact, it might have been fine if Ari hadn’t bragged about baking the crackers herself. And that might have ended up all right if her AE hadn’t pointed out that they had been together all day and she had done nothing over the sort, and besides, these are Ritz crackers from a box. Besides the chairs that got knocked over and Freak’s fancy new bloody nose, it went very nicely indeed.

Then was the bread and seafood course. Real crabs, Palenia Piper said, which caused a few people to rush to the bathrooms for a few moments. But they were only slightly green when they returned, and managed to force down a few bites of sourdough, before the salads were served, so everything turned out alright in the end. When you have your bread, you have the world.

Salad was pleasant and refreshing after that, with a mint and arugula salad with a light mustard vinaigrette. Freak’s nose, unfortunately, had begun to bleed so richly and profusely that he had to be excused to the nurse’s office, but, since Palenia Piper worked double time as the camp nurse, he was given the rest of the evening alone in the room. And, since he had long ago figured out where the supply of chocolate meant for recovering from a dementor’s attack was, you couldn’t really call that unpleasant. Time alone with bandages and chocolate? Truly, the salad course wasn’t that awful either. It was a lovely course overall.

And then the lemon sorbet. Truly the most delightful of palate cleansers, the queen of fourth courses. Nothing could be more awesome than lemon sorbet, intense and icy. This case could be made even for Kitty Cat’s personal recipe, which contained about a quart of extra lemon juice. It was certainly intense, the iciness was undeniable, and there were many awestruck looks from those who managed to swallow a bite. That could be mistaken as excruciating pain, but, since it would be much nicer if Adrian and Pine were merely struck with the wonder of extra lemony sorbet, that’s what we’ll call it. And after that, they were allowed to join Freak in the nurse’s office, so that’s an extra good thing! Another successful half hour was passed.

The fifth course was where the unpleasantness began. It began, as so many unpleasant things do, with steak and Liberté Reine.

Now, it is an unpleasant truth that speeches are boring. Unless made by true geniuses like Martin Luther King Jr, they can truly bore a person to sleep. In different circumstances, Ari would have said that they bored her to death. In fact, if Liberté had not, at that very moment been discussing the deaths of 25% of the campers, Ari would probably have shouted out loud, “this speech is boring me to death!” Luckily, her tact was not yet a fossil to be examined by museums, although it may have been close. So, she refrained.

Liberté’s tact had fossilized many years ago.

“My dear friends and companions,” she said, taking another deep swig of hot chocolate. Many people could confirm that she was on a serious sugar high. “I regret to inform you that we… I mean many of us… I mean one quarter of our beloved campers are dead.”

Sammy screamed and tried to hurt Liberté. Pine started crying again. But, other than that, the reaction to the counselor’s fossilized tact was underwhelming, and truly not worth comment. No serious injuries were sustained by any concerned parties.

“And Luna-Starr won our swimming competition, I’m so sorry, Everyone Else.” She attempted to hug Everyone Else. “Please accept a consolation prize.” At this point, Basil was wrestling between the need to get Liberté off her pedestal and the wish to see her make a fool of herself. Since humans are weak, he succumbed to the latter, and she banged her spoon against Kitty Cat’s water glass, apparently in the attempt to get the attention of the people around her. She broke the glass.

“My favorite consolation prize was from when I was five years old. It was my sister’s birthday, and I started crying because she was getting presents and I wasn’t…” She drifted off into reverie. “Then my sister cried. I saved her tears and encased them in a locket. I still have it, actually. It was a lovely locket. My grandma welded it herself for my sister. I stole it when I was three. Snow, darling, would you like to see it? It may well become a family heirloom.” Snow edged away from her aunt. “You know, Snow, you’re the only person in your generation. Your mother, my sister, she always said she would have twins when she grew up. Well, all I can say is HA HA to her. I’m going to have twins, my doctor said… The football players always loved me. They thought I was sweet.”

At this point, no one could contain their laughter. The idea of a football player or anyone else thinking that Liberté was sweet seemed truly unthinkable. At this point, the chaos began. Liberté fell off her chair, Basil caught her by the wrist and dragged her out of the room. Palenia Piper wheeled in the five-tier chocolate cake. Sterling was caught with a fit of mischief and threw a handful of frosting at Sammy Everlast, who yelled something unintelligible and threw one at Pine, who was still crying a little, but managed to grab an entire layer off the cake and throw it at Zach, who caught it like a footfall, threw it at Adrian, and tumbled backwards, landing face first on the floor and getting a shard of glass from Kitty’s cut stuck in his hand. Luna-Starr then decided to eat cake, and everyone who wasn’t bleeding, crying, or yelling joined her.

It was, after all, a lovely dinner.

***

Congratulations, Luna! You were the only person to submit a story so it's an automatic win, but you pretty much made me cry, so yay for you! You get a juniper branch!