Nanowrimo 2020 Day 5 - Word Count and Favorite Bit (Patreon)

Today I added 2253 words to Match.God, making my current total word count 11,253!

Hannah poked her head out of her room to see the other girls doing the same. “The hell is that?”

“I don’t know,” Clara admitted. “It doesn’t sound like a doorbell or a phone.”

“Let’s go see what it is!” Vanessa insisted excitedly.

“See, this is what gets people like you murdered in slasher movies,” Lindiwe muttered.

“This isn’t a slasher movie, silly!” Vanessa said with a flip of her golden hair.

“We don’t know that,” Hannah argued playfully. “I’m still betting on that door in the kitchen leading to a organ-harvesting horror basement.”

The followed the sound anyway, finding Giotto standing in the kitchen, holding a tiny silver bell in his hand. Behind him, the mystery door was open, and Hannah could clearly see stairs leading down. One point for her organ-harvesting horror basement theory.

“Good evening, ladies,” Giotto greeted. “Tonight, the mistress invites you to taste some of her favorite wines that have been produced by this estate. A selection of wines and accompanying nibbles has been prepared in the wine cellar.”

“I told you it wasn’t a organ-harvesting horror basement!” Vanessa said triumphantly, crossing her arms and shooting Hannah a playful smirk.

A playful gleam entered Giotto’s eyes…or maybe that was the light reflecting off his spectacles. “Well, I suppose I shall return the Cask of Amontillado to the shelf, then.”

The girls stared at Giotto for a moment, not quite understanding what he was saying. Then, Lamia started giggling. Hannah and the others turned to her, demanding an explanation.

“That’s – ” Lamia paused to compose herself. “ – the Cask of Amontillado is an Edgar Allen Poe story in which a man walls up his friend in his basement and leaves him there to starve. Vanessa called it a horror basement. Giotto was making a joke.”

The other girls made various noises of understanding.

“I didn’t call it a organ-harvesting horror basement, though,” Vanessa insisted. “That was Hannah.”

“Hey, we don’t’ know! It still could be a organ-harvesting horror basement,” Hannah argued with a smile.

“The only organ harvesting done on this estate is perfectly within the law,” Giotto stated primly. “Unless you’d like some haggis with your lamb chops, Ms. Hannah.”

Hannah shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never had haggis. Maybe I’d like it.”

“Trust me,” Lamia said flatly. “You would not.”