47 A Murder - Part 1

The room is beautiful. Old faded tapestries hang pleasantly on the burnt orange wall, rather ancient, yet all the more attractive. Although it is big, it isn't too empty, and seems to be not only a house, but a home. The furniture is rustic and dark, sprinkled generously with vibrant crimson cushions that are reminiscent of times long ago.

In contrast to the antique atmosphere of the majority of the room, in one corner stands a violin: exquisite, expensive and elegant. This fancy violin is positioned beside its sturdy case, which is covered with a blanket of dust, as though the violin has declined to conceal itself within. Instead, it has arrogantly demanded to be exhibited for the world to see so all that come across it can acknowledge its beauty.

Above the bed, a lonely window has been flung open, and on its sill is a budding flower. Inside the protective layers of green are the colours that will ignite into vivid pinks and purples, if only they are given the time and dedication necessary for them to flourish. Unfortunately, this flower will have to wait eternity to feel the warmth of sunlight radiate onto its back, as the one who devoted hours of the day to carefully tend to it lies murdered at its feet.

Mere weeks before, unforgettable sounds were echoing out of a ballroom illuminated by the silver crescent moon among glittering stars. Beautiful violins soared above the jolly laughter that spilled out of the grand oak doors. Couples floated along the dancefloor in dazzling golden clothing, some gazing at each other with loving eyes filled with utter delight, others with so much contempt, it was surprising they didn't die on the spot.

One violinist had intensely red hair that faintly glowed in the bright lights of the many candles dotted around the hall. He was visibly enthusiastic about the music he was creating, a giant grin on his joyful face. Just like an ethereal angel, his skin emitted a peaceful delight that proved his passion for melodic harmonies.

Because he was so submerged in his enjoyment, he neglected to notice the suspicious stare that seemed to be gravitating towards him. Someone with a bizarrely large mask on, which entirely veiled their face, watched everything, and waited for their moment.

Only a few days later, the violinist was once again in close proximity to his stalker, this time in a rough-looking pub. The violinist had a couple of drinks, talked to his friends, and overall seemed to be having a fun night out. However, someone was silently hidden from view in a shadowy area on the other side of the bar, watched everything, and waited for their moment.