the hair
People milled around the train station, anxiously waiting to board it. The german air was chilled, sending tingles down her spine. Someone blew a whistle, the crowd instantly hushing.
Everyone seemed to form a single file line, the dark sky, the hazy night and the silence providing an eerie feeling.
Tall black stilettos clicked on the ground. The woman into of her toussled her black hair to one side and tapped the ball of her shoe on the ground. A golden bracelet hung lazily around her right wrist.
“All aboard,” the man said. His face was not visible due to the low brim of his hat, but his voice sliced easily through the air, “the midnight train.
---
(three and a half weeks ago)
“Like who even sends mail anymore” Tobin laughed. The connection was sketchy and sometimes she froze on the screen, but Tobin loved every minute she spent FaceTiming Christen.
“Oh Tobs, everyone does you silly! It’s so exciting. My parents would send letters and care packages to me every month in Sweden. We should try it!”
“Chris we don’t live thousands of kilometres away from each other.”
She fake pouted, before giving in to Tobin’s megawatt smile, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Fine,” she dramatically sighed, “you win.”
“Oh my gosh, did I hear that correctly?” Tobin teased and Christen just laughed.
“Okay you, I have to go now. I was supposed to go 5 minutes ago! I’m going to have to do sprints and it will be your fault Tobin Heath! You owe me big time!”
“Oh, big time? I guess I will have to give you a few favours next camp then, huh?” She teased, making Christen’s face blush an (adorable) shade of pink.
“Tobs stop I need to go,” she whined, “so bye for now, I’ll call you tonight.” Finding new courage, she winked and hung up.
Tobin sighed, falling back onto her bed and sorting through the mail, which mostly consisted of flyers, advertisements, bills and — another letter. She basically just snorted at how this whole situation was panning out. At this point, the one sided conversation with Geheim might as well be carried via carrier pigeon or smoke signal.
She ripped open the gold envelope, her third of the month, just to find a list.
Dear Tobin Heath, the cover read, I am very enlightened that you can attend our festival, per se. I must, however, provide you with these few guidelines, in order that our night runs as smoothly as possible.
You must remain in character.
You must dress accordingly (see dress code).
You may not touch any of the props.
You must have a good time.
Tobin flipped over the card stock paper, finding what was, presumably, the dress code.
Formal attire required.
Dark colours only (deep red hues, navy, silver and gold also acceptable).
Suit includes tie, cuff links and dark shoes.
Dresses need to be floor length, appropriate style only.
See you then, and farewell for now,
Geheim
“Rich people,” Tobin laughed to herself, “always up to something.” With that she grabbed her bag and hit the road.
---
(two weeks ago)
Christen tried to pull her hood up with no success, ultimately deciding to just go for it. She jumped over the puddles as the rain poured down, laughing as she tripped on the curb and basically fell into a river.
She grabbed her mail, which consisted of a small brown box and some fan letters, before escaping the glooming afternoon.
Curiosity over taking her, she opened the package, tears threatening to fall.
Princesses get what princesses want. Have a great day C.
A bag of unpopped popcorn, an iTunes gift card, an ‘adult colouring book,' pencil crayons and a gold bracelet.
---
Kelley pushed her shoulders back after she straighten out her masq and put her phone away in her clutch. Ali gave it a two count before following her into the ballroom cabin, the heat hitting her like a wall. All of the bodies scurring around each other, some people writing on their notepads on the walls.
The flurry of activity quickly consumed Ali and Kelley, who tried their hardest to stay discreet. They both had collected tiny, golden notepads and matching pencils and now Kelley was wandering about the cabin. The violin music in the background seemed to be getting more frantic and for one reason or another, it was getting more difficult to see. And hotter, but Ali just blamed that on the amount of people in the congested area.
Kelley had subtly dragged Ali towards the middle of the room, where Marcus lay. Definitely still breathing, definitely still staring blankly at the ceiling. A stab wound (not a real one, which Ali had to constantly remind herself) was present in the dead centre of his chest. It looked very real and that was very unsettling.
With every breath he took, more red ooze poured out of him, a puddle forming around him. Kelley anxiously wrote this down, then scampered away to examine his feet and his other hand. Ali noticed something in the man’s hand — he was tightly gripping a chunk of hair.
She shuddered and audibly groaned, to which Kelley saw, and came over.
“What is it?” She whispered, so quietly, Ali could barely hear her.
“Look in his hand Kel.” She gasped and dropped to her knees, examining it carefully. She motioned for Ali to look, so she crouched down, taking it in. Kelley gave her an uncomfortable glance and shuddered and as Ali tried not to get the toes of her heels wet with ‘blood’.
Ali had to remind herself that it wasn't real, but it seemed as if it were. In the man’s hand was wavy, silky, platinum blond hair. If you caught it in the right light, it would appear to be a shiny grey or silver. Kelley caught Ali’s terrified eyes and winked at her, reassuringly, but Ali was shaken up nevertheless.
Even though this was essentially a game, the thought terrified Ali.
She tried to get her mind off of it by sneaking into a small crowd of people. They were staring at something stuck in the wall and as she inched closer, she found a steak knife (an expensive one, from the looks of it) in the wall, with ‘blood’ staining the wooden handle and dripping down from it.