In the grand ballroom of the Elixir Spa Resort Hotel and Leisure Complex, the Dropped Apostrophe sat back in his comfortable chair, sipping from a glass of the finest Arles de Vrille champagne, admiring the contracts of his latest master plan.
He took another sip, hearing what he thought was thunder above, thinking it strange as the sky had been perfectly clear a few moments earlier.
He then heard another rumble, which was more like an explosion from the darkened corridor just outside the ballroom – he realised instantly that this was from the cellar.
“No no no no no…” he whispered as he put his glass down onto the desk, realising their first non-paying hotel guest had broken free.
The thunderous sounds above continued, soon replaced by what sounded like a very loud crack; then plaster, debris and a white plastic sun lounger fell onto the dance floor less than a metre in front of the Apostrophe.
This was shortly followed by two men, who the Dropped Apostrophe saw as Jordon Grainger laying beneath and being strangled by Moonbeam, seconds before they were all plunged into darkness as the lights went out.
Another part to the ongoing tale featuring The Co-ordination of Supervillains, posted for Six Sentence Stories. The prompt word for this week is ‘Meter/Metre’… as the Dropped Apostrophe would say ‘you say tomato, I say tomato.” The image below links to Denise’s site, GirlieOnTheEdge…
Previous parts to this story appear in my Storylines menu.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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