Written by Tara De Wet
Sylvia Darling was quite dead. Yes, you read correctly: dead. Not six feet under though. But soon she would be lowered into the ground by the grieving family she left behind, her wailing aunts and weeping mother all saying that she left this world too soon. Truthfully that would be the first and only time she was ever early for anything. Sylvia had been the victim of a gravely unfortunate wrong-place-wrong-time scenario and ended up at the bad end of the barrel of a gun mere seconds before its bullet was propelled into her quickly-beating heart.
“It’s such a shame, Abby,” her aunt Jennifer said to her older sister, peering into the open casket. “How are you holding up?”
Abby might be the only person in Sylvia’s life who despised her as much as she loved her. She sent a pitying glance to her dead sister, her eyes crying ingenuine tears. “I’m doing okay, Aunty Jen.” She glanced at her watch; quarter past two. “Her funeral might be the only thing she wasn’t late to,” she remarked softly, her pity turning to derision.
Abby liked to shoot clay pigeons. She would do this so often in fact that her aim was so impeccable she could shoot a pellet through a bottle cap with her good eye closed and one hand behind her back.
She was a hoot at parties.
Such a hoot, in fact, that she stole the show at the Darlings’ bi-annual Halloween murder mystery masquerade. It was expected to be an evening of grand tomfoolery and loose morals. The event was of the utmost grandeur and anybody who was anyone made sure they were present to bask in the radiance of the self-important, artificially whitened smiles of New York City’s idle rich.
Idle, in this case, meaning extreme boredom, the oh-so-wonderful entertainment- besides the fake-dead Colonel Mustard- was Abigail Darling's daring firearm trick. You know the apple and the arrow trick shot? Well, minus the apple and arrow and add a bullet and clay pigeon you've got the shot my sister was trying to pull off.
Sylvia was supposed to be the victim- uh volunteer. However, she was caught up in a bit of a compromising situation in the woods behind the house and was running a bit late. She missed my cue. These things happen.
When she realised she was tardy yet again Sylvia made a break for the backyard where the shooting would take place, hoping she wasn't too late to take up my position.
As it turned out Abigail found a replacement and Sylvia's jumping through the brush spooked her thoroughly enough that she missed and aimed the bullet directly at her sister's chest.
Now Sylvia was dead.
Mistakes were made.
Sadly there wasn't much mystery to this year's murder mystery masquerade.
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