15 Minutes Writing

4

#prompt 3: Who_dunit

I pulled over at the gate of the huge, Tudor style mansion of Mrs. Ludmilla White, excited about the meeting. She was generous enough to invite our group every weekend to share our writing and critique each other. Mrs. White was such a huge lover of literature. After her husband died - who was a best-selling author - she vowed to continue his journey by helping aspiring writers to flourish and pursue their literary passion..

The adrenaline rushed in my veins as I ring the intercom and ask permission to enter. Everyone is probably already there. I was always late. So much for wanting me be an established author.

The gate opened and I entered the beautifully landscaped garden that surrounded the magnificent mansion. Writers don't normally make that much money. Unless your books are made into blockbuster movies or something.

As the butler opens the main door for me, I enter the huge foyer. The decorations are fascinating. Dark wood paneling, stained glass windows, high ceilings that look they were painted by Da Vinci himself. Everything screams of wealth and age and old fashioned taste.

Almost everyone was already present. Everyone but Big Joe. I liked Big Joe. You'd never think from his round and beefy build that such an amazing fiction writer and a romantic poet. The guy should be a famous published writer by now, but it seemed he hadn't got his lucky day yet. Such a shame.

“Hello everyone,” I said as I entered the room.

I heard a few 'hellos’ back and I started shaking hands with everyone. They were all seated in a circle around a conference table of sorts.

The great poet, the one and only Will Shrine, is invited here with us as well to support us, young aspiring writers. Personally, I admire the guy and his work, but… I prefer Joe any day. He deserved more recognition.

“whats up Maxi!” Trilled Ridhima Shakoor. She was such a sweet girl. Chubby, funny , and talented writer.

“Hey Rid. How's work?”

“Ahh! Boring!” She rolled her eyes. She worked in a clothing store.

Michelle Gerrard smiled at me and blushed. “you're late Max. But we're still waiting for Joe to start our discussion.”

“I suppose Joe's stuck in traffic. We're neighbors but his car is a bit wonky.” Mr. Shrine waves his hand. “We can start until he arrives.”

“But, sir. I thought I saw his car outside,” Michelle added.

“i did too” I said. “Let me just look for him.”

I walked out of the room, walking aimlessly around the big, dreary house. Usually we gathered in the drawing room, but today Mrs. White decided to change the room.

I strode to the door and slowly turned the doorknob.

“Hello? Are you here Joe?”

The lights were off and I had to fumble for the light switch for a minute. Once the lights were on a gasp scraped my throat.

“Oh God! Joe?”

Big Joe was on the floor, his head bashed and blood oozed everywhere.

***

Ok I just finished this prompt and I feel that I should keep writing! I was actually upset that the 30 minutes we're over UGH! This can be better... What do you think??