The Steward

Rebecca and I drove up the long gravel way until it crested a small ridge and our new home came into view. She sucked in her breath, shocked by the magnificence of the old mansion.

"I haven't been here in thirty years. Nothing's changed."

She squeezed my hand, in excitement or perhaps disbelief. The estate belonged to my grandfather, then my uncle, and now me, a string of unfortunate deaths leaving me the only heir.

My anticipation ceased when I saw Bidwell waiting to greet us.

"What's wrong?"

"The steward. He died in the same accident that killed my uncle."

Spooky Girlfriend

My friends don't like my girlfriend. They say all the same stereotypical bullshit, mostly revolving around how she's crazy and I'm crazy to be dating her. I think they're just intimidated by an older woman.

I should say they are ex-friends, because I rarely see them anymore. I spend most of the time at my girlfriend's house. Who wouldn't want to? She lives in the old mansion at the top of the hill. The same house we used to say was haunted when we were kids.

It's not really haunted. You just have to get used to all the ghosts.

There’s Been A Murder

Sunday, April 12

A murder has occurred at the Johnson’s mansion and Earl Johnson was found dead in the basement. The following are transcripts between the investigator and suspects.

Investigator:

“The murder took place around 8:30 p.m. last night. Where were you all during that time?”

Chef (Mr. Washington):

“I was cooking Mr. Johnson’s favorite meal; it was his birthday.”

Ms. Johnson:

“I was freshening up and putting on my dinner gown.”

Maid (Ms. Paddington):

“I was out getting the mail.”

Everyone stopped and looked at the maid with wide eyes.

Investigator:

“Ms. Paddington, the mail doesn’t run on Sundays.”

From Guest Contributor Daemion McKellar