Ring Around The Rosie

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The Butler did IT?!

“Somebody in this room is a murderer.”

The once silent room erupts in chaos as everyone tries to blame and turn on each other.

The room we are all in, is massive and lavish. Each corner of the room holds an expensive sculpture, crafted and preserved from centuries before us. How do I know this? I spent my tween years devoting myself to art from history. I’m joking, the sculptures have key cards. The floor is lined with white tiles which have gold tiles leading diagonally to each sculpture from the centre of what I presume is the foyer. The windows have auburn curtains that drape gracefully, hugging the window and it shines brightly against the gaudy chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The chandelier seems to hold a diamond at each of its ends, reflecting the tangerine light to all four corners of the room.

Even with all the glory in this room- or what I guess to be the foyer- is the exquisite painting, held under the steps as it basks itself in the chandelier light. It contrasts the light it bathes it. A group of small kids, dressed solely in black and white, have joint hands, smiling at one another. The gruesome part is the kids bodies are bruised, covered in red spots as a kid in the middle is crying and is surrounded by rats.

“Benjamin what is the meaning of this,” a voice exclaims.

The room quietens again, you could hear a feather drop. People step backwards and reveal Mr Myers in the corner of the room.

“Take that painting out boys and put it in my damn office,” Mr Myers commands and his servant dutifully carry the painting out of its light, “Benjamin, should I remind you of your place at the Violet. You are a bloody butler, not a party planner.”

“I am just doing what is necessary sire,” Benjamin calmly proclaims as he descends the staircase slowly. Talk about dramatic.

“The butler did it!”

The whole crowd turns to the idiot that uttered that statement. TJ. What is he doing here? And I cannot believe my eyes when I see the rest of the barbie dolls in the middle of the room. I do not need this bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that, isn’t it obvious that…”

TJ is interrupted as one of the barbie dolls shuts him up, whispers and points to the butler. The butler’s eyes turned completely white and he seems to floats seamlessly across the white tiles to the middle of the floor.

“Come join hands, my friends, we shall play a game,” the butler says, his voice rougher than before.

People slowly join hands, weirded out by the absurdity of the situation.

“Benjamin, I am damn not playing a game and…”

Before Myers could finish, the butler lets out a high-pitched scream. The chandelier suddenly falls, the shattering glass piercing my face and others as well. It narrowly misses the butler and Myers, falling in between them. Myers scrambles to a place and joins hands with everyone, trembling. The only light now is from the sculpture displays but the butlers eyes glow, luminescent in the darkness. His gruff voice makes the air thick and goosebumps trickle up my arms and the chill runs down my spine. The room feels colder, freezing actually like I’m stuck in an icy cave with the luminescent eyes as my only light.

“Join hands, my slaves, let’s sing a song,” his voice is still gruff but he seems almost child-like, “we all know this one.”

He starts chanting …a nursey rhyme?!

“let’s move in a circle, people, and for Satan’s sake sing!” the butler exclaims.

With shaky breaths everyone sings, “Ring around the Rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes ashes, we all fall down.”

We start going around the faster unwillingly as we keep on chanting a bloody nursery rhyme.

I try letting go of the people beside me but it seems like we are glued together. I forcefully pull my hands from them but my efforts are futile and a pain shoots up my arm. I feel my arms lift up quickly, causing the pain to worsen and they cross. My whole body turns backwards causing my arms to bound my body.

The voice of a little girl roams the room resulting in the rest of us to be silent. I feel a small tug on my hair and a shiver goes up my spine.

“Ring around the Rosie,” she sings eerily sweet. We are forced to face the middle again, our arms untangling.

The little girl’s face flies in front of me, making me jolt back. Her grey hair back in pig tails, her clothes tattered and torn, filthy clothing covered with maggots, scaling her body slowly, gnawing at her open wounds. Her swollen eyes look at me as she grins sinfully in my face, her breath is nauseating as I take in her appearance. Her ashy, bony fingers caresses my cheek as her fingers lingers on my bitten, jagged lips. Her teeth coal black and bleeding gum approach my ears, bringing me closer and she shrieks, making my gut feel like it is being impaled by a dagger and my ears drip liquid.

“Rings are shall always pass, the pocket is full of carcasses, blood drop blood drop, you all fall DOWN.”

At once we all fall to the floor, toppled onto one another as the girl disappears and the butler’s voice booms throughout the foyer one again.

“On your left hand, there should be a red spot. On that spot you should have either the word “Murderer” or “Victim”. The murderer must kill somebody before the clock strikes twelve tonight, if not there will be some consequences. When you see a murdered victim or catch the murderer, you have to pull the thread from your arm and we will all come back here. And the victims, well good luck is all I can say. Let the game begin.”

I shakily look down that my hand and stitched on the red spot is the word ‘Victim.’ The butler vanishes and everybody frantically runs around. Loud screeches erupt from the middle of the room and puffs of white smoke floats.

What the fuck is going on?

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