Morning Birds Sing Deep into the Night

December 2nd, 2020:

Ever since our planner was unexpectedly murdered, we all came to an agreement on keeping journal entries. In roughly a week, we're all going to compile them together to figure out who's the most suspicious of Tara's murder. Tara may have been strict, although that's just her personality. She was a great planner, and did her job well when it came to keeping us all in check. I'll write down the events that led to her body's discovery; I don't know if anyone else is going to, so it may as well be me. We were all in our respective work rooms that morning, and stayed there until break. At least, that's what we all told each other. I remember that everyone came into work at the usual time, including Tara. Nobody could recall exactly where she went though, we all just busied ourselves inside our own work areas. The entire building is insulated well due to where we're located, and the walls are decently thick. Although we always leave the doors to our work rooms open, for the sake of convenience. After all, most of us usually have our hands full with work equipment.

It was during break that we found the body. We all discovered Tara's corpse at the same time, since everyone typically gathers in the meeting room for lunch. The sight was… mortifying, to say the least. Just from the condition of her body, it was obvious that whoever had killed the poor woman had a nasty grudge against her. Strands of her hair were ripped out, which were clear signs of a struggle. Her clothing was wrinkled, and her name tag was still in place. One of the two carving knives from the kitchen was lodged in her hand, most likely to prevent her from moving. One of the chairs from the meeting room was knocked over, blood spatter being visible on the back legs. It matched up with the wound on the back of her head. The worst part is that the blood on the chair wasn't even fully dry yet. Her time of death was recent. From my state of shock, I wasn't able to catch the others' first impressions. Although when I did snap out of the horror that took over me, everyone else seemed to be just as speechless as I was.

William had gritted his teeth and was silent. Jolene had tears welling up in her eyes. Christopher's hands were shaking, his eyes wide. Lucinda had clapped a hand over her mouth, fingers curled tightly. Harold was blinking tears away, his cheeks already dampened. All of us were as still as statues, falling silent. Although I believe that Jolene, Lucinda, and Christopher held back screams at the start, muffling them with their hands. Honestly, I don't blame them. Nobody sank to their knees, we were all stiff-limbed. It wasn't until an hour later that we had gathered the courage to discuss what to do about deciding who the murderer was. Everyone carried a deep sense of fear and withdrawal in their eyes and movements ever since. Exchanging wide-eyed glances and keeping their distance from each other, because we all knew one thing for certain. Despite the fact going unspoken, it was obvious. One of us had murdered Tara. Nobody wants to accept it, but we have to for the sake of the rest of our lives. Whoever murdered our planner, is in our group.

I can't write anymore. I'm sorry.

December 3rd, 2020:

I believe I speak for everyone when I say that Tara's murder was unexpected. Ashley was chosen to write an entry first, so she probably already explained what had happened. Considering she explained the hardest part, the poor girl probably didn't have the time or heart to continue with anything else. She's very kind-hearted, and has a big soft spot for a lot of people. So she most likely didn't really share her personal opinions about the murder or who was there. Everyone claims that I'm the most honest person they know, so I suppose that means I'll be explaining what everyone's like. As of right now, pretty much every person in this building is a suspect.

Ashley's the painter of our group, and a real sweetheart. Some people say she's too nice for her own good, but those who aren't jealous of her kindness call her an angel. As for myself, I just see her as a big softie. Jolene's the chocolatier, and to say she's protective would be an understatement. She always reminds me of that overprotective mother, the one who worries over everyone's well-being. It wouldn't surprise me if she lost sleep when it came to how worked up she gets when someone's hurt. There's a rumor that she has general anxiety, and perhaps even a fear of blood. Christopher is the mechanic, he's your go-to guy if you ever need a favor. He's very generous and is always seen helping people out, both inside and outside of work. Ever since he was hired, nobody complained about their workload as much. Not necessarily because he helps them out a lot, he just has that friendly attitude that seems to brighten people's day.

Lucinda works in the delivery room. I'm not sure if she has general anxiety, but she did admit to everyone that she's got social anxiety. That's why she comes off as shy, and has a more timid nature. No one knows too much about her, only that she's quiet and has a hard time showing emotions in front of other people. Ashley's the one she's gotten the closest with, I'd say. They help each other out every now and then, when one of them has a big workload. Guess they're both softies inside. Harold's the programmer, a real witty one, alright. He's the guy that spreads the humor around, says that's how he puts a smile on people's faces. He isn't a top notch comedian or anything, but he definitely knows how to crack a smile or a laugh out of the group. He's always there for you whenever you've had a rough day. He says that the remedy to brighten a person's day is to distract them from whatever issue they're having. I have to admit, he does it well.

Well, that's all for now. Can't think of anything else to write that would help in figuring out the murder. Oh right, there is one more thing. I'm the woodworker in the group (William, as you already know), and everyone says I'm brutally honest. Although I don't try to be, it's just in my nature.