It is Sunday, and I have enjoyed the most full day of my visit yet. It began with church this morning. The young new preacher they call Samson is quite...dynamic. He hopped about, his long blond hair flying in the pressing of points, and alternately shouted the rafters to quaking and whispered so that we were all on the edge of our seats to catch his words. It was literally impossible to sleep through, though I noticed Mrs. Andrews’ husband making a valiant attempt. I must say that he gave a most stirring sermon, and appeared to have quite exhausted himself by the end. I can only think that by expending so much energy now, he will have left himself nothing to sustain breathing when he is old. Thus I must conclude that our Lord will call him home prematurely.
I have neglected your scented pages, dearest Diary, in leaving out a description of one of the more colorful characters in Hatrack River. Mrs. Sigh Telethany Port hales from a heritage of stage performers, or so they liked to think of themselves. Mrs. Port’s mother aspired to the stages of New York as a great dramatic actress. Sadly, the lady was too fervent in her gifts, and was viewed so vastly overdramatic as to be positively comic. She could not face the idea of switching from her beloved dramas to base comedy, and so died penniless and brokenhearted. It was in the course of her short acting career that she gave birth to Sigh, named for one of the mother’s incurable notions of drama. Such a child, in being named Sigh, must indeed succeed where the mother failed.
Mrs. Port, it must be said, is truly her mother’s daughter. It was recently discovered that she is also the owner of a lovely black horse with a beautifully glossy coat and long, well-groomed mane and tail. Additionally, Mrs. Port is now known for her own long, well-groomed jet black hair. You see, her groom, a lad not 12 years old, dressed in some sort of tattered livery that I could swear (even though I know it is not lady-like to swear, I feel the safety of your confidence, Diary) displayed the arms of the King of France, began announcing through town in a voice that could only be described as vastly embarrassed, that Lady Godiva was coming to Hatrack that very afternoon.
At precisely 3 o’clock, Mrs. Port was seen slowly riding her black horse, (I’m sorry, dear Diary, but I must used this crude word, for none other amply describes it) buck-naked from the south end of Main Street to the north. She was dressed only in the splendor of her admittedly magnificent raven hair. Young boys appeared to enjoy the spectacle, until their mothers caught them. And it might be admitted here freely that the older men didn’t seem to mind it much either, at least until their wives caught them.
It was then suddenly realized that the very hue of her horse was certain admittance of guilt, and, led by the wives of Hatrack, Mrs. Port was pulled down from her lofty perch and hung by her hair from that ugly tree. The men of Hatrack were, I must note, more interested in this hanging than any of the previous. That is, until the preacher, Mr. Brettley “Samson” Smith arrived on the scene. He used a nearby horse blanket to cover Mrs. Port.
Unfortunately, in the course of covering her, Mr. Smith suffered a nick from Mrs. Port’s penknife, which she had kept tucked tightly in one of her fists. She had just enough leverage to cut a lock of Mr. Smith’s hair, slicing his neck shallowly in the process. He collapsed within moments and expired at her feet.
You see, dearest Diary, I was right about the Lord calling him home prematurely!
A note, found at Mrs. Port’s home stated (italics retained from the original):
“Goodbye, Cruel World! I am deceived in a most vile manner. Ah, the perfidy of men! Mr. Witherspoon promised me fame on Broadway, and then did abandon me in the way of all men, leaving empty promises behind in a towering waterfall of disappointment. Thus do I take on my mother’s most favored role and expose my guilt in the only kind of confession of which I am capable. And at this, I bid you, dear Reader, adieu. I only hope God grants me strength to take at least one more man with my poisoned sting, as an honorguard into fiery Hell.
In deepest despair, In the face of Lady Fate’s Kindest Gift -- Death itself, Sigh Telethany Port”
I can hardly imagine what tomorrow will bring, given all that has happened in the past week. I can guess one thing with fair accuracy, though. The undertaker will not be taking a holiday any time soon.
Dramatically yours, Miss Jenny Wren
************************
JATRAQUEROS:
asQmh -- CITIZEN, died of natural causes Brettley -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia eslaine -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia Evie3217 -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia hansenj -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia msquared -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia rivka -- POLICEMAN, killed by mafia jehovoid -- MAFIA, lynched Narnia -- CITIZEN, lynched PSI Teleport -- MAFIA, lynched Ryan Hart -- CITIZEN, lynched Sopwith -- MAFIA, lynched
Advice for Robots Avadaru Damander Dead_Horse fugu13 SirReal
posted
Did you feel that? The way the room suddenly got cold? I had the distinct impression that someone was trying to contact me. Two. Wait. There's two of them. *shiver*
Posts: 5957 | Registered: Oct 2001
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posted
Um, Dead People...could you please retire to your lounge and leave deliberations to those still living? I would also appreciate it if you would delete your posts. This is neither a confirmation nor denial of your speculations...it's merely to leave speculating, logic building, lynch choosing to the remaining living players.
Posts: 5948 | Registered: Jun 2001
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posted
Apparently I'll have to base my guess as to the Mafia person on whether they are wearing a trenchcoat or not. Jeniwren, can you describe what the remaining people are wearing? Posts: 172 | Registered: Jun 2003
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posted
Okay, Avadaru is not mafia. I'm not sure who out of the remaining three are mafia, but my highest suspect is Advice for Robots. (The other two in question are fugu13 and Dead_Horse). Fugu's little turn as a temp cop is not entirely believable to me because if he was mafia then he would have already known Evie was not mafia so then when they killed her it would make him credible. But, then again, he could have been a temp cop, I really don't know with jeniwren changing the rules all the time....
So my vote is Advice for Robots.
Posts: 119 | Registered: Jan 2003
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posted
I too will vote Advice for Robots Your logic seems sound although I'm tending to believe Fugu13 is a citizen. I guess if we leave Fugu13 as the LAST option for Mafia, we'll be OK. Process O elimination.
Posts: 172 | Registered: Jun 2003
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posted
SirReal, I never know who is what and what they are wearing until my alterego starts writing her letter. I wish I could say I planned this story all ahead of time, neatly setting up the plot, but so far it's been unfolding as I write.
So you're welcome to imagine them wearing anything you like...or nothing at all, as today's story illustrated. Posts: 5948 | Registered: Jun 2001
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That was the greatest thing and I swear, you captured the essence of who I really am. (That's scary.) Thanks for the awesome characterization. Now I am off to the lounge.
By the way, anyone interested in who I think the mafiasos are? Just kidding...heh heh heh....
Posts: 6367 | Registered: Aug 2003
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