The Murderer's Party

Warning: Some content may be disturbing to readers.

Wednesday, February 18th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Something terrible happened today. It all started when I went to my mom's work party with her. But hold on. I should probably start from the beginning.

When I woke up this morning, I was happy. I had slept well, and was excited to go to Mom's party after school. I bounded over to my closet to find the perfect outfit for the special occasion.

After about half an hour, I finally decided on a cute white dress and a black braided headband. For accessories (well, necessities), I dug some cute silver shoes with silver bows on them out of my closet. Next I got a little black bag for a thing to keep my lip gloss and e-Reader in because you know, those are necessities. Obviously.

I then ran downstairs in my PJs to eat breakfast and get started with my not-so-exciting school day. "Dad!" I called, bounding in to the black-and-white kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

My dad was standing over the stove. He turned around to hand me a plate of pancakes with fresh maple syrup and whipped cream.

"My favourite!" I exclaimed happily, hugging him tightly then taking the dish. "Thanks, Dad! You're the best!"

He smiled. "I cooked them light and fluffy, the way you like them."

Dad doesn't usually have enough time to make me breakfast, because he has to get to work early as a surgeon. It's a rare sight to see him making me breakfast, and I enjoy it. He makes really good pancakes, too, so that's an added bonus.

My hand's getting tired, so I'll just skip to the interesting parts of my day at school.

At lunchtime, a very big food fight happened in the cafeteria between the popular boys and the 'nerds' who weren't really nerds, the popular kids just hated them (which wasn't very fair to the non-populars).

I can't write down all of the details, for two reasons. First reason is actually a good one; my hand is dying because I'm writing so much today. The better reason is because I was reading a book while eating my tomato soup, so I wasn't really paying attention to the fight.

I think I'm going to stop writing now, because I need to go to sleep and my hand is very tired. Goodnight, Diary.

Thursday, February 19th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Now that I am rested and my hand isn't super cramped, I will continue my story of what happened at that dreadful party last night.

I will skip the rest of school, because it was super boring, and fast-forward to the horrible but more interesting stuff.

Namely, the work party that ended terribly.

So there I was, standing outside of the school waiting for Mum to pick me up. Finally, she drove over to where I was sitting on a ledge beside my backpack and honked her horn at me.

"There you are!" I said, hopping into the passenger seat. "What took you so long?"

"Just a bit of paperwork," she told me. "Well, a lot of paperwork."

By the way, Diary, my mum is an accountant, so she gets a LOT of paperwork, like, all the time. It's quite annoying, actually.

Anyways, when we got to the house of Mr. Lincoln Davis, the big boss of the company, my mum and I went into the bathroom to get changed into our nice dresses.

Mum was wearing her favourite simple mauve dress with matching heels and her big black purse, which was a super cute accessory in my mind.

I was wearing the adorable ensemble I had picked out that morning, the plain white mini-dress with black and silver accessories, just to spice things up a little bit.

I think I'm going to tell the terrible part of this story tomorrow, because my hand is DYING from the exertion of writing all of this and Mum is yelling at me to have my shower and go to bed. Goodnight, Diary.

Friday, February 20th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Good morning! I am ready to tell the rest of the story and have been mentally preparing myself so I will be ready to talk about the dreadful turn of events without breaking down.

So. On with the story. I was hanging out by the buffet area with Mum's boss's daughter, Jessica, and Mum was just mingling and chatting with her fellow accountants, making super boring small talk. I will spare the embarrassing details.

Soon, the REAL action started. Let me fast-forward to that.

Mrs. Davis came running out of her kitchen, where she and her daughter Mia were making dinner with some occasional help from Mia's aunt, Katelyn.

"Lincoln is missing!" Mrs. Davis shrieked. Lincoln, as you may have remembered, was the first name of Mr. Davis, the big boss of the company, the man who owned the house that we were currently partying in.

Mum rushed over to comfort me, tripping in her impractical heels. She took my hand and pulled me over to Mrs. Davis and Mia, the latter having come from the kitchen crying.

I pulled away. "Bathroom," I explained when Mum looked at me questioningly. She nodded, not really paying attention to me.

I guess that everything else going on was just a BIT more important than my need to pee. Just a tiny bit.

I began to run all over the house, looking for any sign of Mr. Davis.

I was inspired by the Sherlock Holmes novels I had just finished reading, and I tried to be just like the famous detective, looking for clues about where Lincoln Davis had gone, and what had happened.

Finally! A clue!

I was in the living room when I saw a long curtain that was blown back. Let me back up in time and explain why this was a clue worthy of Sherlock Holmes himself.

You see, whenever I go to a new place, I look around it for interesting things. And in this house, I was surveying it and I noticed lots of little details, like the fact that the windows were closed when we arrived, and the deep-red curtains were pulled shut.

So the fact that the drapes were open was good cause for an investigation.

Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered that the window was also open!! That meant that someone had exited that way, and I was curious to find out who. It. WAS. (Sorry. I love mysteries.)

I scoured the windowsill for more clues. All I found was a little fresh red stain that I thought was probably from a tomato.

I went back to the kitchen/dining room/hall to ask Mrs. Davis a few questions about her family, like a proper investigator should.

"Did your family have tomatoes recently?" I inquired, crouching in front of her rocking chair, where she was sitting, very in shock.

She looked up at me, her eyes red from crying. "N-n-no," she stammered. "W-why do you a-ask?"

"Oh, no particular reason," I said, my heart racing with the truth that I discovered. "I...just love tomatoes!" I ad-libbed quickly.

I ran away back to the living room to scan more carefully with the new, raw truth.

I need to stop now to get to sleep, because it's super late and I'm really tired. Goodnight Diary.

Saturday, February 21st, 2015

Dear Diary,

Alright, I'm back for the end of the story.

I snooped all around the living room, looking for evidence to prove my thoughts. I looked in the coffee table, and under couches, ottomans and chairs.

I even looked in the glass cabinets displaying all of the crystals and boring stuff that I'm not going to talk about because I'd bore everyone's pants off.

But yeah, I looked everywhere.

There was a big closet in one corner of the room, and that's where I went last.

I opened the door and the interior of the closet showed me a gruesome sight.

It was the dead body of Lincoln Davis, the big boss!