Guests chatted while sitting on the oversized velvet couch. Glasses of wine were held in hand and spilled as the personage let out an airy laugh. One woman wore a pearl necklace, along with her bright red lipstick and curled hair. Her hair was as white as snow, along with being short and neat. She crossed her legs as ladylike as she was and laughed whenever someone let out a joke. The woman sat close to the fireplace, with flames rising up and down. Above it was a deer head, carefully bestowed to the wall with its dead eyes twinkling whenever a flame grew higher. Of course, there was a painting nearby - the painting being a picturesque version of the house it resides in. Nearby the painting is a large array of knives, all sharpened and polished.
In the room are all patrons of the house owner, purchasing his striking woodwork and displaying his craft inside their own manors and properties. The guests were not surprised when seeing the dozens of ornate woodcarvings around the house, only seeing ones in the foyer and parlor, of course. Madame Mistral, the woman whose scarf is made of fox fur, put down her wine glass and turned her attention to Lieutenant Anderson, a well-known purchaser of wooden art. The man was probably in his late 30s or early 40s, a somewhat stout and burly man.
“I do agree that the bear and carp are one of Sir Bertholdt’s greatest works.” Madame Mistral spoke, her hands touching her white hair. The lieutenant nodded and took a sip of his beer. I glanced over at the stale conversation. Being a young fellow, I yearned for some interesting discourse. “Do any of you suppose that Sir Bertholdt will show up soon?” I asked, looking at the magnolia clock on the wall. The other guests in the room looked over at me. “Be patient, kid.” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, crossing his arms while doing so. I sighed and moved some ice cubes around in my drink.
The maid decided to show up not too long after. She quickly came into the leading parlor and greeted the guests winsomely. “Sir requests you in the dinette.” The maid said in her soft voice, smiling as she looked at all of the guests. All twelve of the guests followed the expeditious maid into the dining room. They had passed dozens of paintings, carvings, and plenty of display cases featuring tools. The dining table had exactly twelve seats, five on the long sides and two on the short ends. The table looked custom crafted, with coils of bronze at each corner and a sparkling finish to the wood.
“I’m getting dinner out right now.” The maid said, wheeling in a cart with multiple dishes and platters of food. Each dish was concealed with a top, the very tip made of circular gold. The lieutenant muttered aloud if he could somehow get the gold and sell it to a pawn shop. Each guest anxiously anticipated the food. My mouth watered. The maid lifted the top of one dish, some sort of red meat exposing itself to the guests. The maid lifted another lid, exposing a human head on some leaves. All the guests screamed, with plates and utensils falling off the table.
“This is gourmet; what’s the matter?” The servant asked quizzically, putting the top back on the plate. “This is insane! I’m out of here!” One man screamed, running out of the dinette. A few more people followed the man, avoiding eye contact with the housemaid. Only seven people remained, eyeing each other inquiringly. I gagged, the smell of the food resembling that of a rotting corpse. Earlier, I was pretty intrigued, wanting to taste what wealthy people eat. Never had I ever imagined that the Bertholdt household would be like this.
I got up from my seat and dashed out of the dinette, only stopping when finding the five runners on the ground. I had assumed them to be running for their lives, rushing towards the front door with such vehemence and passion for escaping. Straight out of a horror performance, the five guests were on the ground, dead. I conceived, to stay alive, I should follow orders.
With a sigh, I walked back to the dinette and sat down next to a man with a pipe and a woman with a puffy gown. I gulped, trying not to look at the platters in front of him. “Child, what had happened?”Madame Lavandra asked, smoothing out her purple and puffy dress. Lavandra’s dress was a violet color, with some ultramarine circling the middle and ivory snowflakes surrounding the long sleeves. Although not close to the winter season, Madame Lavandra Van Schuyler is known for her unique and diverse fashion.
“Nothing of the bad sort Madame; I had decided to meet Sir Bertholdt after all.” I lied while feeling the embroidered deer on my serviette. I wondered why the six other guests could remain so calm – in spite of the fact that I am doing so.
“Sadly, our other guests left. But on the bright side, there is more food for everyone.” The maid said with an exaggerated simper, opening the plate with its head. I grimaced and looked away. As I looked away, I could hear the head’s squish while the maid cut it with her knife. Blood seeped onto the plate under the head, turning the white ivory into a deep and dark crimson. I could tell some guests grimaced but quickly returned to their regular expressions. Could they have possibly thought of the same idea as I? If they act obedient, no death shall strike them with a sword?
I then could hear the plop of a piece of the head being placed on my plate and the others receiving their portions. “Is there anything else that I may have to eat? I am on a diet of vegetarianism.” I shrewdly spoke, looking up at the maid. “I am as well.” Madame Mistral announced a sense of remorse in her voice.
“I shall prepare some salad and soup then.” The maid said with a dainty bow. After the maid wheeled the cart back to the kitchen, she stayed to prepare the new cuisine. “We must get out of here.” Madame Lavandra said, getting up from the table and ushering the guests to her. She stood under the doorway and waited for someone to follow her lead.
“Don’t you see?” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, frustratingly placing his utensils back on the table, “It’s all a trap.” He finished, looking down at his plate. “How, sir?” Madame Lavandra questioned, putting her hands on her hips.
“The kid knows; he’s been in the hallway.” Lieutenant Anderson said, looking at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. “It’s true, ma’am, I’ve seen corpses,” I said, my eyes widening when reliving the scene. Madame Lavandra sat back down sadly. “Do you reckon that we will make it out alive?” She asked gloomily.
“If we just go along with whatever is going on.” The man with a pipe said. His words were slurred as he talked with the meerschaum pipe in his mouth. For that brief moment, everyone had ignored the rotting head piece on each of their plates.
I watched the wisped flame of the candelabra sway side-to-side, each glow reflecting off the faces sitting across from him. It had been a mere ten minutes of silence after the man with the pipe spoke. I knew I could’ve escaped by now; each minute was precious in his situation. But the problem is that I have no clue who else is in Bertholdt’s mansion. On top of all crucial things, the manor is on top of a hill, with no neighbors but the old sawmill at the bottom of the range.
I sighed when examining the man with the pipe’s pocket watch, which read; 9:30 P.M. My mother must be worried sick; she even had warned me not to go to the unpopulated part of town. But alas, I still went to Sir Bertholdt’s mansion to be there for my cousin James, who was unable to show up due to work. Even though I had promised mother to be home before nine, all I could do was sit.
The maid returned shortly after 9:32, grabbing my and Madame Lavandra’s dishes and replacing them. “I’m assuming none of you are hungry.” The maid said, glancing at the guest’s untouched dishes.
“I ate before arriving here.” Madame Mistral replied, looking at the maid with her cerulean eyes. “I understand; let us head to the display room after the two are finished.” The maid proposed, referring to Madame Lavandra and me. Everyone nodded, some more hurriedly than others. My mouth watered when eyeing my soup and salad; I was glad that I didn’t have to perceive the horrid stench of a rotting head any longer. I ate uncomfortably, viewing inadequate looks from the other guests, besides Madame Lavandra, who looked quite pleased with the other guest’s expressions.
I didn’t know if Madame Lavandra was one of those who enjoyed the pain of others or doesn’t express herself very well regarding her face. Nonetheless, I was glad I brought up the topic of vegetarianism, possibly opening up the subject of lying to gain for themselves to the other guests. I could’ve just stayed quiet, but then I remembered that the inhabitants of the manor don’t know anything about me; lying to survive is inevitable.
After a short while, I put down my utensils and watched Madame Lavandra finish up. “Goodness, sir, you must’ve been starving,” The maid told me, viewing my empty plates. I nodded and placed my serviette back on the table. The maid then led the guests to the display room, everyone on edge and eyes broadening when surveying the items they deemed as suspicious. I took note of the things, especially. The display room was only down the hall from the dinette. Although the walk between the two was only a few seconds, everyone felt like it was hours. The lack of conversation and apprehensive tension stung the guests right in the heart.
A man suddenly entered the room, which caused the entire atmosphere to change. Something felt different. His appearance was unlike anything I had seen before. He dressed like a king, with long velvet robes and a golden cane with what appeared to be a ruby in the center. He smiled while entering, flashing his pearly teeth at everyone. “Welcome, my friends!” he announced cheerily. No one smiled back or even replied. The man looked disappointed to see this.
“I am Sir Bertholdt; thank you for joining me today for my wooden carving auction.” Everyone continued to look at him with sheepish faces. Bertholdt proceeded to shake everyone’s hands energetically. When he came to me, though, he scanned me from head to toe. I suppose he was surprised to see my rugged appearance, for lack of better words. I only wore my brown fishing overalls with my best green sweater underneath.
“You don’t belong here, do you?” He asked with a smile. It seemed so insincere that I sneered. “My cousin, James, wanted to purchase some of your work, but he couldn’t make it, so I’m here for him. Don’t worry, he gave me money,” I replied, somewhat angry.
“Good, good. Now, let’s get on with the festivities!” Bertholdt said with a sing-songy voice. Bertholdt led us down a hallway with many paintings, carvings, and taxidermic animals. He eventually stopped at a double door that a maid was standing in front of. “Sophia, my dear,” he said in passing as Sophia opened the doors for us.
We walked down a few flights of stairs to a large room about the size of an ice skating rink. Chandeliers and candles lighted the room on the walls. The walls and floors were both composed of rock, oddly enough. The rest of the mansion was mainly wood.
Madame Lavandra and the others suddenly grabbed me and pushed me towards Bertholdt. He held my shoulders tightly and forced me to glance at the dozens of wooden carvings against the wall. He held my face with his hand and smiled cheekily. “Aren’t they amazing, Finny?” he giggled. How the hell does he know my name? Bertholdt was more substantial than I expected. Being a couple of inches taller than me and stronger made me start to lose hope that I could fight my way out of this situation.
Bertholdt clapped his hands and pointed at a wooden carving of a giant bear. Suddenly, Lieutenant Anderson triggered a machine of some sort above the carving to slice it in half. There, I saw my cousin, James, being slit in half. I screamed, calling out to him, but it was too late. I knew he was dead the second the saw touched his head.
“Why are you doing this?” I pleaded with Bertholdt, tears streaming down my face. He smiled, and everyone laughed. I scowled through my tears and kept trying to escape Bertholdt’s grip on me. Bertholdt knocked me to the floor, and everyone began holding my limbs to the cold, hard ground. I kept thinking to myself why are they doing this? And I imagined my poor mother’s face. Even writing this is making me tear up. I’ll continue my story soon, but I assure you it is not for the light-hearted…