No One Will Die This Time

Chapter One: Rapping, Rapping

Edgar paced in the foyer just inside his door. He didn't like this. Not one bit. This was not how he was comfortable in the slightest. Especially after... No matter, though. What had been done could not be reversed. He had received RSVPs from nearly everyone he'd invited. There was no stopping the impending dinner party. It was coming, whether he liked it or not. And, decisively, he most certainly did not. The last time had left an awful taste in his mouth. The concept of a murder mystery had once intrigued him- it had sounded fun. But now, after having gone through a legitimate murder mystery... The allure was not quite there. In fact, he found it was quite the opposite. Despite the little note he had made on his invitations, he had a pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he could not shake the feeling that something dreadful was on its way.

He didn't know why Lenore insisted that he host events like this. He wasn't a social man. He didn't like parties when other people hosted them, and he liked them even less at his own home. There were too many responsibilities as a host. He simply wanted to hide away and write his poetry 24/7. Was that too much to ask? Space to himself in his own abode. It was not so outlandish a request. But when one is a host, they must always be present for their guests. And so he was trapped in a cage of his own making- or, rather, Lenore's, for he supposed she was the one truly behind these dreadful parties. Speak of the devil- or rather the spirit- Lenore made her way gracefully down the stairs.

"Well don't you look chipper." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not chipper, and you know exactly why." Edgar grumbled.

"Oh, come on Edgar! That was so long ago!" Lenore sighed. "It's about time you gave it another shot."

"Last time I hosted a party, mankind lost several of the greatest literary minds of this century." Edgar pointed out.

"And you think that's going to happen again?" Lenore scoffed. Edgar glared at her, and she knew from that look that it was no time for jokes. He wasn't in the mood. "Listen, Edgar... what happened the last time was a tragedy. You're right. But... what are the odds of it happening twice? Seriously, I know all you authors have a morbid flare for the dramatic, but I don't think anyone we've invited this time actually has it in them to kill anyone."

"What about Ernest Hemmingway?" Edgar pointed out.

"Have you still got a-" Lenore started to snicker. Edgar blushed. She made it seem so silly to have a bit of a... rivalry. Once she had calmed down enough to speak again, she took on a very condescending tone, articulating every word clearly. "Annabel is here, Edgar. She chose you."

"It's not about Annabel!" Edgar lied.

"What's not about me?" A lilting voice rang out. At the top of the stairs stood the ghost of Miss Annabel Lee... the love of Edgar's life, unfortunately unable to be counted among the living herself. Edgar looked up, a fondness gracing his features that seemed both natural and unnatural on him.

"Nothing, my love." Poe assured her, shooting a small glare at Lenore. Lenore just started to laugh again. "Stop that! Stop that this instant, Lenore!"

"I'm sorry, I just... can't with you two." Lenore wheezed.

"What?" Annabel blinked, confused.

"Don't worry about it, dearest." Edgar rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with Lenore.

"Has anyone arrived yet?" Annabel asked. "How do I look?"

"Radiant as always." Edgar reassured her, walking over to her. He tried to run a hand through her hair tenderly, but it simply passed through.

It felt as though he had been stabbed through the heart. It seemed a small thing- It was, of course, hard for ghosts to go corporeal. But even the reminder that Annabel was naught but a ghost caused him a great deal of pain. It had been under his watch that she had died. He should have been the one to protect her. Where was he when the man she had loved had torn her heart out? Not literally, of course, but... it was nearly as brutal. There had to be no greater pain, Edgar thought, than being killed and utterly disposed of by the one you love. Edgar should have remained by her side. There should have been no opportunity for her to be alone, outside, in the dark. She was here, as she was... because of him. And every time a touch passed through, or Annabel walked through a wall... those thoughts flooded back.