There once was a mansion turned hotel on top of a tall hill in such and such a place, distant from any town or city. It was owned and operated by Mr Pringleberry, a very excitable and flamboyant man. Though the hotel was massive in size, there never seemed to be more than five people staying there at any one time. During this particular time there were four. Mr Timmothy Greensly, a young handsome business man who appeared by all accounts to sleep in his suit; Elizibeth “Lizzy” Ruely, a week-old adult lacking all colors in her day to day life save black; and young Mr Timmothy Shawl, a boy sent abroad by his pure-hearted parents to, well, he wasn’t quite sure. Lastly there was Miss Brown, but we’ll get to her in a bit.
“Timmothy,” A voice rang through the halls. “Breakfast is ready!” In the dining area fancy plates and silverware were displayed with pride. “I made that myself you know,” Mr Pringleberry hurried back and forth fussing over a grand table cloth in front of Lizzy and Timmothy (the younger one). Mr Pringleberry didn’t employ a staff. He didn’t need one. All of the cooking, cleaning, and maintenance of the business he saw to himself; more willing than capable, he was determined to create a sort of home-away-from-home atmosphere, including the home cooked breakfast every morning to be eating in the company of all those staying at the house, a rule which Mr Greensly was not abiding by.
“Timmothy! Breakfast is served and if you don’t come down here right this instant I’m coming up to get you! Don’t forget I have a key to your room mister!” Timmothy sat meekly at the table while Lizzy followed Mr Pringleberry with her eyes, unable to believe such a personality flourished. A minute later they heard a door open and shut roughly as feet burdened with early morning annoyance carried Mr Greensly to the table.
“Mr Pringleberry,” Mr Greensly started calmly. Perfectly put together from suit to hair the business man unfolded a paper napkin decorated with floral print and laid it across his lap. “I did not ask for a wakeup call. I would appreciate it if you left me alone unless I find myself in need of something. And don’t call me Timmothy, my name is Mr Greensly.” He shot after the owner as he dipped into the kitchen. Lizzy and Timmothy looked at each other and stifled giggles. Mr Pringleberry reemerged weighed down with plates of eggs, pancakes, sausages, toast, and various other breakfast items. Timmothy’s shock and awe at the feast overshadowed Lizzy’s attempt at being unimpressed and Mr Greensly’s apparent lack of interest, already embroiled in the financial section to the morning newspaper he snatched off the table at first opportunity.
Having served the food quite prettily Mr Pringleberry began lowering himself into his seat, cup of coffee in hand, before stopping mid-process. “We are missing someone,” he announced dramatically, looking from person to person. “No one eats anything until everyone is seated at the table!” He called back as, rushing through the swinging door leading into the lobby, he went to retrieve this mysterious person. Timmothy looked guiltily around as he set a fork full of pancake down.
“I didn’t know there was another person staying here,” he said, looking between the others. “I’ve only seen you two.” Mr Greensly ruffled his newspaper and flipped a page. Lizzy picked moodily at her chipping nail polish.
The owner of the hotel was gone for quite some time. Lizzy’s stomach growled. “This is stupid.” She determined and reached for the eggs. Just then Mr Pringleberry burst through the door, startling the three sitting inside. Breathing heavily, his nice silk shirt hanging in shreds, he blocked the door with his body, the whites of his eyes serving as warning. Silence hung in the air as each tried to process the sight in their own way before Mr Pringleberry spoke. “Miss Brown is possessed.”