The Bet
folder
Horror/Thriller › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Horror/Thriller › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Bet
:::::::::::::
The Bet
The bet was very simple really. Name the scariest killer, real or fictional and prove your case beyond the shadow of a doubt before a group of your fellow crime buffs and gore whores. Each contestant would contribute one hundred dollars to the pot and get one vote. Everyone got three minutes to plead their respective cases. The winner had to be unanimous to claim the prize and there had to be a winner.
The object of the game was to make everyone at the table agree that your pick was the scariest killer they could conceive of. It wouldn’t be an easy task. Not with this group.
Each contestant would write his or her entry on a small card and seal it in an envelope. The envelopes would be opened only when the contestant was ready to plead their case. In the event any two contestants chose the same killer, that would automatically count as two votes for that killer and they would split the pot if their respective murderer won.
Not that that was expected to happen of course. There were only six people invited to this little soiree and there were far too many interesting and prolific killers to choose from for them to be likely to pick the same one.
Chuck Nardell glanced around the small card table he had set up in his living room. Six chairs surrounding a ratty old card table might not seem like much of a glamorous way to spend an evening to most, but Chuck could hardly wait for his friends to arrive so they could begin the game.
Sara Small, Randy Evans, Steve Price, Quinton Wood and a new guy, Patrick Bishop were due to arrive at any moment. Like Chuck himself they were all crime buffs. Several collected photo’s and biographies on serial killers. They had all met on-line through various gore forums, learned they shared a passion for bloodshed and chaos and become fast friends. Luckily for them, they only lived a few hours away from each other so they had managed to meet on several occasions.
This particular meeting should prove to be a most interesting and informative evening and who knew, maybe he might even walk away with the winnings if he was lucky.
Chuck’s envelope was sealed and in his pocket, but he had chosen what he thought could very well be the winner. Of course, they would all think they had the winner or they wouldn’t be here. The competition would be fierce. Every one of these people knew their stuff, all were experts when it came to blood and guts.
He startled as a knock on the door broke through his revelry. Chuck rushed to the door, excited to see his friends and anxious to begin the game.
The first one through the door was Sara and she stopped long enough to give Chuck a hug, then all the guys poured in behind her amidst handshakes and slaps on the back. The last one in was Patrick Bishop. He was the new guy and at first glance, Chuck got the impression that he was a shy, mousy little man. He kept nervously pushing his glasses up on his nose. He was also clutching a bottle of wine to his chest like he was afraid he might be asked to leave at any second.
Chuck stepped up to him and extended a hand in greeting, feeling more than a little sympathy for the man. He knew what it was like to be the new guy in a group and he wanted to make Patrick feel at home.
“Hello Patrick.” Chuck said, shaking his hand. “Welcome to my home and welcome to the game.”
Patrick ducked his head and muttered something that sounded like a thank you while extending the bottle of wine in Chucks general direction.
“Thanks.” Chuck said grinning. “At least SOMEBODY around here has some manners.”
The rest of the guys grumbled good naturedly as everyone took their seats around the table. “Here one night and he’s already trying to make the rest of us look bad.” Steve griped.
“Not like that’s hard to do.” Chuck snickered as Sara made a face at him. Uncorking the wine he poured a glass for all of them and passed them around the table.
Quinton swished a large gulp around in his mouth before swallowing. “Nice bou-quet.” He said, making all the rest guffaw at his tom foolery.
“You wouldn’t know bouquet if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.” Randy chuckled.
Sara took a much more ladylike sip of her wine. “Mmmmm, it is good though.”
“Enough about the wine.” Steve muttered, “lets get on with the game.”
“Okay.” Randy said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “ Who goes first?”
“Everybody divvy up then we‘ll decide.”
Each of them threw their hundred dollars into the pot.
It was eventually decided that Chuck would go first since it was his house. Sara second, since she was the only lady of the bunch. Randy, Quinton and Steve flipped a quarter for third, fourth and fifth place. Patrick would go last since he was the new guy.
“So Chuck,” Quinton leaned forward expectantly, “lets see it.”
Chuck pulled his envelope from his pocket with a flourish. Slowly he opened it, and pulled out the small manila card on which he had written two words. Ed Gein. Gingerly he laid it in the middle of the table for them all to see.
Steve whistled. “Nice one.”
“Exactly.” Chuck picked up the stop watch from the table and pressed the timer. “The one who started it all.” For three minutes Chuck waxed eloquently about all the reasons that his choice should be the winner. Not that he told any of them anything they didn’t already know. After all, Ed Gein was a legend amongst true crime buffs. Ed, a necrophiliac serial killer was the inspiration for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Indeed, Norman Bates, was a character based on Eddie, which became the central theme of the Alfred Hitchcock's classic thriller Psycho and Years later, Ed provided inspiration for the character of another serial killer, Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs. Like Ed, Buffalo Bill treasured women's skin and wore it like clothing in some insane transvestite ritual.
Chuck argued that not only should Ed win for the crimes he had actually committed; but also for being responsible for all the terror caused by the characters inspired by him. It was a good argument. The others couldn’t help being impressed with his reasoning.
The alarm sounded. Now it was Sara’s turn to present her case. Reaching into her purse she retrieved her envelope and tore it open. She brought her card out and carefully laid it face up on top of Chuck’s. Ed Gein was now covered by Hannibal Lecter.
Sara took a sip of her wine and nodded to Chuck to start the timer. “Hannibal Lecter.“ She said seriously, “A brilliant but psychotic psychopath and cannibal. A cultured psychiatrist who not only dissects his victims bodies and consumes them as food, but also delves into the deepest darkest recesses of their minds to torture them in ways that would be unimaginable to most human beings. While Ed Gein was indeed a horror of a man, he was completely unbalanced. Mentally ill." She took another sip as she watched her friends reactions.
"With Hannibal Lecter there were no excuses. When asked why he is the way he is Lecter himself states it simply and best, "Nothing happened to me. I happened." His intelligence and complete lack of remorse are what make Lecter the scariest of them all."
The alarm sounded signaling the end of Sara’s time.
Steve Price had won the toss to go next. He drained his glass and motioned for Chuck to refill it as he pulled his envelope from his pocket and ripped it open. Grinning, he lay the small card with only three bold letters on it on top of Hannibal Lecter. BTK. His time started.
“BTK.” Steve murmured, “Three letters. So innocent looking until you know what they stand for.” He glanced around the room. They all knew of course. He said it anyway. “Bind. Torture. Kill.”
“The thing that makes BTK scarier than the rest is the abundance of information he has willingly given to the police. He had cute little nicknames for his killing equipment. BTK/aka Dennis Rader described his victims as his "projects" and at one point likened the murders of human beings to the killing of animals by saying he "put them down." BTK created what he called a "hit kit," a briefcase or bowling bag containing the items he would use during murders: guns, tape, rope and handcuffs..” Steve glanced at the clock, his time was almost up. “This was nothing out of the ordinary. For him it was just another day at the office. Thats why he should be considered the scariest.”
The timer went off before Steve was ready for it to, but he felt he had gotten his point across. He eyed the jackpot. At least he hoped he had.
Randy scooted in closer. “My turn now?”
The others nodded. They were all thinking about everything that had been said around the table so far.
Randy tore open his envelope and slapped his card down on top of BTK. It said simply, Jeff Dahmer.
Chuck pressed the timer on the clock.
Randy pulled another sheet of paper out and cleared his throat. “Ahem…. Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer (May 21, 1960 – November 28, 1994) was an American serial killer. He murdered 17 men and boys between 1978 and 1991 (with the majority of the murders occurring between 1989 and 1991). His murders were particularly gruesome, involving acts of necrophilia, dismemberment and cannibalism.”
“Are you reading that from a news article?” Quinton snapped. “What? Did you Google Dahmer?”
“Yeah!” Steve shouted, “He cant just do that can he?! That has to be against the rules!”
“There are no rules.” Chuck sighed.
Quinton tossed back the rest of his glass of wine. “Cheater!”
Randy opened his mouth to retort but the timer went off. “Hey!” He protested, “That’s not fair! They took up most of my time arguing.”
“Get over it.” Chuck sighed, pouring himself a much needed refill on the wine. Randy wasn’t going to get any sympathy from him when it was obvious that he had just mostly copied what he found on the computer and put very little effort into making a compelling presentation. Dahmer had deserved better. “Your turn Quinton.”
“BTK was scarier than Dahmer anyway.“ Steve sneered nastily.
Randy and Quinton were still staring holes in each other when Quinton finally pulled out his card and placed it over Dahmer’s.
“That’s right.” Quinton cackled, “'The Zodiac.” He took another deep gulp of his wine. “The man taunted the police. Sent them letter after letter and they still cant catch him. There’s no telling how many deaths he’s responsible for. Hell… he’s been around for so long and gotten away with so much that he’s even been the inspiration for other serial killers. Somebody they can look up to and try to emulate. That’s not why he should win as the scariest though...” Quinton laughed darkly. “He should be considered the scariest for one simple reason...” He glanced around the table making sure he had everyone’s full attention. “Because he’s STILL out there.”
Well... it was hard to argue with that kind of logic. As a matter of fact, Chuck had to admit that they had all made compelling cases for why their pick should be the winner. He was about to call for a vote when suddenly he remembered that they weren’t through. There was still Patrick Bishop’s turn.
The unimposing little man had sat there throughout all of the presentations without making so much as a peep. Frankly, Chuck had forgotten he was there for a moment. Maybe he had had a little too much wine? Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Patrick’s wine glass hadn’t been touched. It was still full.
“Patrick...” Chuck started, but then suddenly halted. Why did his tongue feel so fuzzy?
Abruptly, the room seemed to be spinning and Chuck fought desperately to keep focused. When in the hell had it become so fucking hot in here?
“My turn then?” Patrick drawled slowly as he removed his glasses and stood up.
Chuck glanced over at Sara. She didn’t look too well either, her eyes were glassy and her hands jerked spastically . As a matter of fact; his eyes roamed around the table, none of his friends were looking too good. Steve was white as a ghost and Randy was sweating profusely. Quinton looked as though he might either vomit or pass out at any second.
“Well....” A small smile graced Mr. Bishops lips. “I really don’t think i'll need all three minutes.”
Chuck felt as though he couldn’t breathe, across from him he could see Randy clutching his chest.
Patrick lifted his envelope so they all could see it and then with a grand gesture, he pulled out the small white card contained within and held it up so the four small words written upon were visible to them all. Gently he laid his card on top of the pile consisting of theirs.
“So.” Patrick surmised, watching them closely, “Lets see now, we have Gein, Lecter, Dahmer, Zodiac, BTK and of course, my own humble offering.” The twitching and choking around the table increased. “But really; Which killer is the SCARIEST of them all?”
“A vote then?” Listing them all again, one by one; not a single vote was cast until Patrick came to the last one. His very own card. Extremely pleased, he watched as every trembling hand at the table was raised in his favor.
Patrick Bishop slowly turned from his seat after collecting the jackpot from the center of a table now surrounded by five soon to be corpses. He walked out of Chuck‘s house a little later, whistling a tune and six hundred dollars richer.
Captain Alan Morgan stood staring down at his crime scene with a mystified expression on his face. It just didn’t make any sense. Five people dead. Completely unrelated to each other from what their friends and families had been able to tell him, yet they had all come together and all died together for some unknown reason.
The clues were few. Oh, figuring out who the victims were and what had killed them was a piece of cake. All of them had been carrying identification, and the poisoned bottle of wine they drank from had been left almost tauntingly in plain sight. But why, and perhaps more importantly, who had killed these people was a mystery.
Captain Morgan looked down at the six small cards he held in his hand. Once again he shuffled through them.
Hannibal Lecter, which had been Sara Small’s card.
Jeff Dahmer had belonged to Randy Evans.
Zodiac was the killer of choice for Quinton Woods.
BTK adorned Steve Price’s card.
Ed Gein had been claimed by the parties host, Chuck Nardell.
At least those he understood. Those were all murderers, but this last one....
He held it up as if it might reveal its secrets if he just stared at it long enough. This one made no sense. Just what kind of game had these people been playing ? Had they all just come together to discuss their love of serial killers? Then what in the hell was this last one? It had been lying on top of all the others. The last card played. It had to be significant.
Captain Morgan looked bewildered at the card he still held in his hand. The card that he could only assume belonged to the winner of whatever bizarre contest these six people had been engaged in.
The card that simply declared. “The one beside you."
Fini...
The Bet
The bet was very simple really. Name the scariest killer, real or fictional and prove your case beyond the shadow of a doubt before a group of your fellow crime buffs and gore whores. Each contestant would contribute one hundred dollars to the pot and get one vote. Everyone got three minutes to plead their respective cases. The winner had to be unanimous to claim the prize and there had to be a winner.
The object of the game was to make everyone at the table agree that your pick was the scariest killer they could conceive of. It wouldn’t be an easy task. Not with this group.
Each contestant would write his or her entry on a small card and seal it in an envelope. The envelopes would be opened only when the contestant was ready to plead their case. In the event any two contestants chose the same killer, that would automatically count as two votes for that killer and they would split the pot if their respective murderer won.
Not that that was expected to happen of course. There were only six people invited to this little soiree and there were far too many interesting and prolific killers to choose from for them to be likely to pick the same one.
Chuck Nardell glanced around the small card table he had set up in his living room. Six chairs surrounding a ratty old card table might not seem like much of a glamorous way to spend an evening to most, but Chuck could hardly wait for his friends to arrive so they could begin the game.
Sara Small, Randy Evans, Steve Price, Quinton Wood and a new guy, Patrick Bishop were due to arrive at any moment. Like Chuck himself they were all crime buffs. Several collected photo’s and biographies on serial killers. They had all met on-line through various gore forums, learned they shared a passion for bloodshed and chaos and become fast friends. Luckily for them, they only lived a few hours away from each other so they had managed to meet on several occasions.
This particular meeting should prove to be a most interesting and informative evening and who knew, maybe he might even walk away with the winnings if he was lucky.
Chuck’s envelope was sealed and in his pocket, but he had chosen what he thought could very well be the winner. Of course, they would all think they had the winner or they wouldn’t be here. The competition would be fierce. Every one of these people knew their stuff, all were experts when it came to blood and guts.
He startled as a knock on the door broke through his revelry. Chuck rushed to the door, excited to see his friends and anxious to begin the game.
The first one through the door was Sara and she stopped long enough to give Chuck a hug, then all the guys poured in behind her amidst handshakes and slaps on the back. The last one in was Patrick Bishop. He was the new guy and at first glance, Chuck got the impression that he was a shy, mousy little man. He kept nervously pushing his glasses up on his nose. He was also clutching a bottle of wine to his chest like he was afraid he might be asked to leave at any second.
Chuck stepped up to him and extended a hand in greeting, feeling more than a little sympathy for the man. He knew what it was like to be the new guy in a group and he wanted to make Patrick feel at home.
“Hello Patrick.” Chuck said, shaking his hand. “Welcome to my home and welcome to the game.”
Patrick ducked his head and muttered something that sounded like a thank you while extending the bottle of wine in Chucks general direction.
“Thanks.” Chuck said grinning. “At least SOMEBODY around here has some manners.”
The rest of the guys grumbled good naturedly as everyone took their seats around the table. “Here one night and he’s already trying to make the rest of us look bad.” Steve griped.
“Not like that’s hard to do.” Chuck snickered as Sara made a face at him. Uncorking the wine he poured a glass for all of them and passed them around the table.
Quinton swished a large gulp around in his mouth before swallowing. “Nice bou-quet.” He said, making all the rest guffaw at his tom foolery.
“You wouldn’t know bouquet if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.” Randy chuckled.
Sara took a much more ladylike sip of her wine. “Mmmmm, it is good though.”
“Enough about the wine.” Steve muttered, “lets get on with the game.”
“Okay.” Randy said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “ Who goes first?”
“Everybody divvy up then we‘ll decide.”
Each of them threw their hundred dollars into the pot.
It was eventually decided that Chuck would go first since it was his house. Sara second, since she was the only lady of the bunch. Randy, Quinton and Steve flipped a quarter for third, fourth and fifth place. Patrick would go last since he was the new guy.
“So Chuck,” Quinton leaned forward expectantly, “lets see it.”
Chuck pulled his envelope from his pocket with a flourish. Slowly he opened it, and pulled out the small manila card on which he had written two words. Ed Gein. Gingerly he laid it in the middle of the table for them all to see.
Steve whistled. “Nice one.”
“Exactly.” Chuck picked up the stop watch from the table and pressed the timer. “The one who started it all.” For three minutes Chuck waxed eloquently about all the reasons that his choice should be the winner. Not that he told any of them anything they didn’t already know. After all, Ed Gein was a legend amongst true crime buffs. Ed, a necrophiliac serial killer was the inspiration for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Indeed, Norman Bates, was a character based on Eddie, which became the central theme of the Alfred Hitchcock's classic thriller Psycho and Years later, Ed provided inspiration for the character of another serial killer, Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs. Like Ed, Buffalo Bill treasured women's skin and wore it like clothing in some insane transvestite ritual.
Chuck argued that not only should Ed win for the crimes he had actually committed; but also for being responsible for all the terror caused by the characters inspired by him. It was a good argument. The others couldn’t help being impressed with his reasoning.
The alarm sounded. Now it was Sara’s turn to present her case. Reaching into her purse she retrieved her envelope and tore it open. She brought her card out and carefully laid it face up on top of Chuck’s. Ed Gein was now covered by Hannibal Lecter.
Sara took a sip of her wine and nodded to Chuck to start the timer. “Hannibal Lecter.“ She said seriously, “A brilliant but psychotic psychopath and cannibal. A cultured psychiatrist who not only dissects his victims bodies and consumes them as food, but also delves into the deepest darkest recesses of their minds to torture them in ways that would be unimaginable to most human beings. While Ed Gein was indeed a horror of a man, he was completely unbalanced. Mentally ill." She took another sip as she watched her friends reactions.
"With Hannibal Lecter there were no excuses. When asked why he is the way he is Lecter himself states it simply and best, "Nothing happened to me. I happened." His intelligence and complete lack of remorse are what make Lecter the scariest of them all."
The alarm sounded signaling the end of Sara’s time.
Steve Price had won the toss to go next. He drained his glass and motioned for Chuck to refill it as he pulled his envelope from his pocket and ripped it open. Grinning, he lay the small card with only three bold letters on it on top of Hannibal Lecter. BTK. His time started.
“BTK.” Steve murmured, “Three letters. So innocent looking until you know what they stand for.” He glanced around the room. They all knew of course. He said it anyway. “Bind. Torture. Kill.”
“The thing that makes BTK scarier than the rest is the abundance of information he has willingly given to the police. He had cute little nicknames for his killing equipment. BTK/aka Dennis Rader described his victims as his "projects" and at one point likened the murders of human beings to the killing of animals by saying he "put them down." BTK created what he called a "hit kit," a briefcase or bowling bag containing the items he would use during murders: guns, tape, rope and handcuffs..” Steve glanced at the clock, his time was almost up. “This was nothing out of the ordinary. For him it was just another day at the office. Thats why he should be considered the scariest.”
The timer went off before Steve was ready for it to, but he felt he had gotten his point across. He eyed the jackpot. At least he hoped he had.
Randy scooted in closer. “My turn now?”
The others nodded. They were all thinking about everything that had been said around the table so far.
Randy tore open his envelope and slapped his card down on top of BTK. It said simply, Jeff Dahmer.
Chuck pressed the timer on the clock.
Randy pulled another sheet of paper out and cleared his throat. “Ahem…. Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer (May 21, 1960 – November 28, 1994) was an American serial killer. He murdered 17 men and boys between 1978 and 1991 (with the majority of the murders occurring between 1989 and 1991). His murders were particularly gruesome, involving acts of necrophilia, dismemberment and cannibalism.”
“Are you reading that from a news article?” Quinton snapped. “What? Did you Google Dahmer?”
“Yeah!” Steve shouted, “He cant just do that can he?! That has to be against the rules!”
“There are no rules.” Chuck sighed.
Quinton tossed back the rest of his glass of wine. “Cheater!”
Randy opened his mouth to retort but the timer went off. “Hey!” He protested, “That’s not fair! They took up most of my time arguing.”
“Get over it.” Chuck sighed, pouring himself a much needed refill on the wine. Randy wasn’t going to get any sympathy from him when it was obvious that he had just mostly copied what he found on the computer and put very little effort into making a compelling presentation. Dahmer had deserved better. “Your turn Quinton.”
“BTK was scarier than Dahmer anyway.“ Steve sneered nastily.
Randy and Quinton were still staring holes in each other when Quinton finally pulled out his card and placed it over Dahmer’s.
“That’s right.” Quinton cackled, “'The Zodiac.” He took another deep gulp of his wine. “The man taunted the police. Sent them letter after letter and they still cant catch him. There’s no telling how many deaths he’s responsible for. Hell… he’s been around for so long and gotten away with so much that he’s even been the inspiration for other serial killers. Somebody they can look up to and try to emulate. That’s not why he should win as the scariest though...” Quinton laughed darkly. “He should be considered the scariest for one simple reason...” He glanced around the table making sure he had everyone’s full attention. “Because he’s STILL out there.”
Well... it was hard to argue with that kind of logic. As a matter of fact, Chuck had to admit that they had all made compelling cases for why their pick should be the winner. He was about to call for a vote when suddenly he remembered that they weren’t through. There was still Patrick Bishop’s turn.
The unimposing little man had sat there throughout all of the presentations without making so much as a peep. Frankly, Chuck had forgotten he was there for a moment. Maybe he had had a little too much wine? Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Patrick’s wine glass hadn’t been touched. It was still full.
“Patrick...” Chuck started, but then suddenly halted. Why did his tongue feel so fuzzy?
Abruptly, the room seemed to be spinning and Chuck fought desperately to keep focused. When in the hell had it become so fucking hot in here?
“My turn then?” Patrick drawled slowly as he removed his glasses and stood up.
Chuck glanced over at Sara. She didn’t look too well either, her eyes were glassy and her hands jerked spastically . As a matter of fact; his eyes roamed around the table, none of his friends were looking too good. Steve was white as a ghost and Randy was sweating profusely. Quinton looked as though he might either vomit or pass out at any second.
“Well....” A small smile graced Mr. Bishops lips. “I really don’t think i'll need all three minutes.”
Chuck felt as though he couldn’t breathe, across from him he could see Randy clutching his chest.
Patrick lifted his envelope so they all could see it and then with a grand gesture, he pulled out the small white card contained within and held it up so the four small words written upon were visible to them all. Gently he laid his card on top of the pile consisting of theirs.
“So.” Patrick surmised, watching them closely, “Lets see now, we have Gein, Lecter, Dahmer, Zodiac, BTK and of course, my own humble offering.” The twitching and choking around the table increased. “But really; Which killer is the SCARIEST of them all?”
“A vote then?” Listing them all again, one by one; not a single vote was cast until Patrick came to the last one. His very own card. Extremely pleased, he watched as every trembling hand at the table was raised in his favor.
Patrick Bishop slowly turned from his seat after collecting the jackpot from the center of a table now surrounded by five soon to be corpses. He walked out of Chuck‘s house a little later, whistling a tune and six hundred dollars richer.
Captain Alan Morgan stood staring down at his crime scene with a mystified expression on his face. It just didn’t make any sense. Five people dead. Completely unrelated to each other from what their friends and families had been able to tell him, yet they had all come together and all died together for some unknown reason.
The clues were few. Oh, figuring out who the victims were and what had killed them was a piece of cake. All of them had been carrying identification, and the poisoned bottle of wine they drank from had been left almost tauntingly in plain sight. But why, and perhaps more importantly, who had killed these people was a mystery.
Captain Morgan looked down at the six small cards he held in his hand. Once again he shuffled through them.
Hannibal Lecter, which had been Sara Small’s card.
Jeff Dahmer had belonged to Randy Evans.
Zodiac was the killer of choice for Quinton Woods.
BTK adorned Steve Price’s card.
Ed Gein had been claimed by the parties host, Chuck Nardell.
At least those he understood. Those were all murderers, but this last one....
He held it up as if it might reveal its secrets if he just stared at it long enough. This one made no sense. Just what kind of game had these people been playing ? Had they all just come together to discuss their love of serial killers? Then what in the hell was this last one? It had been lying on top of all the others. The last card played. It had to be significant.
Captain Morgan looked bewildered at the card he still held in his hand. The card that he could only assume belonged to the winner of whatever bizarre contest these six people had been engaged in.
The card that simply declared. “The one beside you."
Fini...