Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

The Secret of Ellingham Manor

You sigh and watch a raindrop slither down your bedroom window. It’s been raining for days, with no end in sight. “The largest rainstorm in a decade,” as the weatherman said. You stare out at the gray world outside your window. There’s gray cars, gray trees, gray houses, gray streets, smoking bird, gray sky - smoking bird? You run to your closet, searching for the binoculars you got as a birthday present when you were eight. You find them under a pair of jeans that's been too short since last winter and use them to take a closer look at this mysterious bird. It's definitely smoking - a fine trail of bluish smoke is trailing from its head. That's not the only strange thing about it; its skin is brown leather, its claws a shiny silver. There’s a white rectangle - an envelope? - tied to its left leg with brown string.You realize that the bird is mechanical and marvel at how pretty and fragile it is. Then you realize it’s heading straight for you. You don’t want the bird to hit the window and get hurt. The window creaks loudly as you open it. The strange bird swoops in and lands on your bed. It uses its silvery beak to undo the string on its leg and then lies down to have a rest. Everything seems very quiet all of a sudden. The only noises are the deafening rain outside and the plinking and clunking of the tiny gears that make up the bird’s heart. You walk to the bed. You were right - it is an envelope, a beautiful envelope with a red wax seal. The seal depicts an owl with a great many spears behind it. You turn the envelope over. There’s no return address. You open it and a beautiful hand-written letter falls out. You pause what feels like two or three eternities and read it.

 

 

Dear CBer,

You are cordially invited to my home, Ellingham Manor, for a Week of Wonder and Whimsy. (Let’s call it the WWW for short.) I’ll be sending Barnaby along with a carriage at noon on October first. Be ready when he arrives, he hates rain.

Warmly,

Flora

(Lady Ellingham)

P. S. Don’t panic if the carrier pigeon’s legs fall off. It’s a design flaw that I’ve yet to find a solution to. Just bring him back to the Manor with you.

P. P. S. Bring layers, it’s cold here.

P. P. P. S. I mean it when I say be ready for Barnaby’s arrival. He’s been known to leave without passengers on several occasions.

P. P. P. P. S. Roxann asks that you fill out the form below; she doesn’t want a repeat of the last time I had guests over.


Name:

Pronouns:

Age:

Itemized list of things you’re bringing:

Personality (described in five words or less):

Any special needs? If so, specify:


No CAPTCHAs or AEs. Never again. Limit of ten people. Starts October first. -Roxann

A muffled clink pulls you from your stupor. The pigeon has tried to stand up, but one of its legs has fallen off. 

submitted by Lady Ellingham
(September 23, 2020 - 2:34 pm)

//This is an automated message from RoboTOP. RoboTOP copyright 2009 by Silicon Intelligence.

submitted by RoboTOP
(November 10, 2020 - 12:46 pm)

Thank you for writing this, Lady Ellingham!

I am honestly very suspicious of myself right now, because I  was the only one not descripted after we all went in the library, but there's always the ghost 0_0

submitted by Darkling, The Upside-Down
(November 10, 2020 - 10:06 pm)

TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP

submitted by TOP
(November 10, 2020 - 6:01 pm)
submitted by TOP
(November 14, 2020 - 8:06 am)

Chapter Seven

“The Seance”

Majestic Mary sat down heavily on her bed and wondered if Roxann could bring up a mug of tea. She usually had one in the afternoon, but with all of the confusion after what had happened to Agent Winter, she had forgotten about it until that moment. The house seemed sadder and more mysterious than ever, but that was not about to stop Mary from having her cup of tea. Lady Ellingham had said to continue their stay as normal. Mary was just following orders. She walked out of her room and down the stairs into the entrance hall. Nyx was on the landing, wrapped up tightly in a blanket.

“Hullo,” Nyx said. 

Mary nodded regally as she continued down the stairs.

“Aren’t you worried?” Nyx called after her.

Mary turned around. “Worried about what?”

Nyx raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you worried about a murderer roaming about-”

“No.” Mary spoke almost before Nyx had finished. “Are you?”

“A little,” Nyx admitted. “In all honesty, Kitten’s ghost scares me more.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Mary said.

“Sure thing,” replied Nyx.

Mary continued into the dining hall and through the small door that Roxann came through when she served meals, reasoning that she would probably find the kitchen through there. She walked down a steep, narrow staircase and arrived in what appeared to be the basement. There were three doors. Mary could hear Barnaby shouting from behind the left door. That must be where Pygmy and Queen are, thought Mary. While Win’s body was being escorted downstairs, Mary had spotted the two of them being pulled away by Barnaby, who had been muttering something about “punishment”. Poor dears. They shouldn’t have been sneaking about like that. The door directly across from the stairway was locked, but the one to the right wasn’t. Mary opened it up to reveal the kitchen. Simply put, the place was a mess. Dirty pots and pans were everywhere, and there were dried globs of food on the floor. Mary thought she saw a rat. She wrinkled her nose, but carried on stoically, stepping carefully to make sure she didn’t tread on any food or rodents. Mary had a routine, and she was sticking to it. 

“Roxann?” she called out. Nobody answered. Ah, well. I’ll make the tea myself.

Mary had filled the last clean kettle with water and had put it on the stove to boil when Roxann appeared from behind a door. Frost covered the plateau of the head, and an icicle hung from her arm. She broke it off, tossed it into the sink, and wiped her hands on her soiled apron, quietly sobbing the entire time. Mary wasn’t sure what to say. Did she pretend that nothing had happened, or did she try to comfort Roxann? What would Miss Manners do?

“Hello, Roxann,” said Mary. Roxann jumped.

“Oh, hello,” she breathed. “What are you doing down here?”

“I’m making myself a cup of tea.” Mary had decided to go the kind-and-unintrusive route. “Do you know where I could find teabags?”

“They’re in that drawer,” Roxann sniffled, pointing. Mary opened the drawer and found several teabags, along with a whisk and a coffee-stained cookbook entitled Meals for Those in a Hurry.

The girl and the robot stood quietly together as the water boiled. After what felt like ages, the piercing whistle of the kettle filled the room. Mary found a mug, filled it up, and plopped the teabag in.

“Thank you, Roxann,” Mary said quietly. “I’ll be going now.”

“If you’re headed to your room,” Roxann said, “there’s a quicker way up. Follow me.”

Mary did just that. Roxann led her through yet another door and into a small, poorly lit spiral staircase.

“This used to be the servants’ staircase,” Roxann explained as they began scaling the stairs together. “Barnaby hated seeing maids use the main stairway, so he had this one built for us.”

“Barnaby hated seeing maids?”

“Oh, not the Barnaby you know -- Lady Ellingham’s father, the late Lord Ellingham. My twin Barnaby doesn’t deserve to be named after that wonderful man, that horrible, contrary-”

Mary decided to interrupt before Roxann got too worked up. “So you knew Flora’s father?”

“Only a little. I had just been built and booted up when the accident happened,” Roxann said, tearing up again.

“Oh,” said Mary uncomfortably. It seemed as if no subject were safe.

“I wasn’t built to be a maid, you know.” Roxann began to sob again. “I was just a prototype. And after the Sardine Incident-”

“Look, here we are,” Mary interrupted, pointing at a plaque that read “Second Floor”. “I’m going to go to my room now. Thank you for the help.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Roxann wailed. Mary pushed the door open and walked out into the hallway. The door, which was disguised as a painting of an elephant on the other side, swung shut. Mary wasn’t entirely sure where she was at first. She looked down the hallway. There was nothing she recognized. She decided to go left -- if she followed one of the walls, she would eventually reach her and Spirit’s room.

“A-are you l-l-lost?” Luminescence was leaning out of a doorway just across from the hidden door.

“Yes,” Mary admitted. “Do you know the way to my room?”

“No,” said Luminescence, “b-but there’s s-s-something much m-more interesting g-g-going on. Come in! We’re going to t-t-t-talk to Kitten’s g-ghost.”

The room had barely been touched since Kitten’s murder. The curtains were still drawn, the beds were unmade, and a patch of dust was in the corner where Darkling was sitting. She had been one of the last guests to arrive -- she had been riding her skateboard through the hallways when Quill had found her and dragged her along. The group was small: the only guests there were Quill, who was sitting quietly on the bed, Lumi, who was arranging candles, Mary, who was drinking something out of a mug, Spirit, who was looking around with a nervous look on their face, and herself. Darkling ran through the guest list in her head. Kitten: dead. PygmyOwl and QueenOfWolves: missing. Nyx: absent. Agent Winter… What about Agent Winter? She would inquire about her later; for now, she was much more interested in the seance.

“Should we wait for Nyx?” Lumi wondered aloud. “She did suggest this, after all.”

“No,” Quill said almost immediately. “I want to hear what Kitten has to say.”

“Ditto,” piped up Spirit.

Mary said something about Miss Manners under her breath.

“Let’s go ahead,” said Darkling, trying to sound disinterested. “It’s nearly time for dinner, and I’d like to get this over with.”

“That settles it, then,” said Quill with surprising force. “Majority rule.”

“Alright,” said Luminescence, picking up a small but thick book, probably from the library. The cover was adorned with a picture of a man and a woman in old-fashioned clothes with their arms linked. The woman was illustrated with a thick black outline; the man’s outline was a shiny silver. From Beyond the Grave: An Elementary Course in Conducting a Seance was printed above this illustration in bold letters. She read for a few moments and set the book gently down onto the floor. On the floor sat a small wooden box with a pendulum. Below the pendulum were two circles marked “Yes” and “No”. The candles surrounded this box like lonely travelers around a campfire.

“Everybody must join hands,” Lumi ordered. Her dry, husky voice gave Darkling chills. But she didn’t believe in these sorts of things. She had a hard time believing that she was here in the first place, and yet she found herself holding Spirit’s warm hand. 

“We all shall now silently wish for Kitten to make herself known,” Lumi said. The wind was still howling outside, and the house creaked as the CBers all wished for Kitten to appear and tell them what she did -- or didn’t -- know. 

Are you there, Kitten? It’s me, Darkling. If you’re out there, and I know you’re not, please don’t show yourself. Just stay hidden away.

There was a ticking noise. Darkling opened her eyes. The pendulum was now swaying back and forth. There was a quiet collective gasp.

Lumi smiled weakly. “We have now successfully contacted Kitten,” she breathed. 

Where did her stutter go? Darkling wondered to herself.

The guests all leaned in, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kitten, hoping to hear a whisper of her voice.

“Kitten,” mumbled Lumi, savoring every word. “Do you know who the murderer is?”

The pendulum kept swaying. Faster and faster it went until it stopped on “Yes”. 

“Is the murderer in this room?” Lumi asked.

The pendulum began to sway again. Faster and faster it went, until it was nearly a blur, Darkling thought that the box might shatter into a million pieces--

The door opened. The pendulum stopped. The flames in the candles fizzled and disappeared. Light flooded into the room. The guests groaned.

“Dinner’s been waiting for ten minutes,” said Magnus, as calmly as ever. “You are going to eat, aren’t you?”


submitted by Lady Ellingham
(November 15, 2020 - 1:28 pm)

I'm missing! Win is dead! There's a seance!

Wow.

Once again, this is great, Lady Ellingham. I feel like I suspect Darkling a little, since it would make sense for a murderer to not want the murder victim to arrive, but I am so bad at solving stuff, so I'm probably wrong, although it kind of makes sense. 

submitted by Morning, yonder
(November 16, 2020 - 1:34 pm)

Wow I was in it like the whole time! This is so exciting! Why was I being so rude to Nyx? Sorry Nyx. Anyway thanks so much for writing this it's so good!!

submitted by Majestic Mary, age 1 eternity, Majestopia
(November 21, 2020 - 3:18 pm)
submitted by NEW PART
(November 15, 2020 - 5:29 pm)

Thank you all for the kind comments so far! This is actually my first ski lodge, so to see people so invested and excited really makes my day. I'm not Rainbow Riot, but keep guessing, everyone; you're bound to find me out eventually!

submitted by Lady Ellingham
(November 16, 2020 - 2:38 pm)
submitted by TOP
(November 20, 2020 - 8:20 am)
submitted by TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP
(November 20, 2020 - 1:32 pm)
submitted by TOPsy Turvy
(November 21, 2020 - 2:35 pm)

Name: Niki

Pronouns: her/she 

Age: 12

Itemized list of things you’re bringing: Laptop, many oversized hoodies and sweatshirts, leggings, jeans, sketchpad, mechanical pencils, the pigeon, favorite book (Harry Potter and the Scorcerer's Stone)

Personality (described in five words or less): Sarcastic, Cold, Realistic, Lazy, Funny

Any special needs? If so, specify: Allergic to eggs


submitted by Lexi W, age 13, Austin, Texas
(November 21, 2020 - 6:12 pm)

I don't mean to be rude, Lexi, I think it's great that you want to participate in one of these, but I think the spots are filled. 

There's another similar to this, staged on a cruise ship, by Captain Arianna (me and Inari) it's already started, but I'm still accepting people!

~Nightfall

PS So so so so sooo sorry if this came off as rude imsosorryimsosorryimsosorry 

submitted by Nightfall
(November 22, 2020 - 12:51 am)

Hullo, Lexi! The carriage came by on the first of October, and seeing as it's currently wrecked, I don't think we'll be able to pick you up... I'm terribly sorry.

submitted by Lady Ellingham
(November 22, 2020 - 9:13 am)