One by One

The Invitation

     Alex Wilson was bored. Very bored. It was a hot June afternoon in summer. The year was 1842. He had just finished a long day's worth of work and was aching for some form of excitement. He was an orphan, his parents were either dead or far away. A kind farmer/merchant took him in from off the streets. His room was very small and comprised of a cot and a small wardrobe which contained 3 dirty outfits. He was lying on the cot thinking about the year's harvest and how it would turn out. The sixteen-year-old wanted to sleep.

     Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a horse-drawn wagon approaching. He recognized it as one of the mail carts. The driver stopped in front of his small shack thing and gave Alex a letter. It was an invitation to a party atop one of the few woodland mansions. He had heard rumors of this particular quaint and derelict building. What he didn't know what that it was still in use. He figured that some old man still owned the place was looking for some people to entertain.

     He was surprised when he had received the invite, for he wasn't exactly wealthy and he wasn't well known. He blessed whoever sent this. He looked at the invite and quickly noticed that it was a little suspicious. All it gave was an address and the message. No stamp. He wondered how the owner of the building could have sent this but decided not to question it. The invitation read:

                          To Alex of the Wilsons,

     It is my pleasure and honor to invite YOU and several (eight) other people for a week or so's worth of fun and festivities! The party will be held on the mansion atop the hill St. Attucks. Please note that the only way to get there will be by train and it would be unwise to try on foot as the surrounding forest is filled with bears and what-not. Ha! I wish you the best of luck on your journey and that you find your stay thrilling. Party begins at midnight tonight.

                                                                                                              Signed, The person who owns the place

     After reading it entirely, Alex thought that the signature was pretty shoddy and wondered if he was serious. He immediately ruled out the possibility of asking the merchant if he could go. The merchant would obviously say no. Without further a due, he took out his hidden stash of money from under a loose floorboard (luckily just enough to buy passage) and quickly ran from his shack under the cover of darkness and ran to the train station.