OK, so I have decided to rewrite the first two chapters of my story. I want the writing style to somewhat match up, you know? Well, actually, I'm changing a small bit of dialogue. The rest of this is really the same.

In The Billiard Room with the Rope

A Clue fanfiction by Sorinapha de l'Aro

Six people were killed at Hill House on that fateful night in 1954. The suspects: Miss Scarlet. Mr. Green. Colonel Mustard. Mrs. Peacock. Professor Plum. Mrs. White. Wadsworth. And a 16-year-old girl named Samantha Wadsworth, the butler's little sister, who just so happened to figure out this mystery, with the help of her older brother.

This is her story.

Chapter One: Arrival Too Late (or Breaking and Entering)

On a dark, rainy night, one lone cab drove up to a huge, intimidating mansion on a gigantic hill. In the backseat was a young girl of 16, extravagantly dressed. She wore a lovely, rose-pink, open-necked dress and a pale pink trench coat over it. She was also accessorized well, with pink elbow-length gloves and pearl bracelets, a pink feather boa wrapped round her shoulders, a pink flapper-hat with a chiffon bow on the back, complete with a little pink fan in one hand and a pink parasol in the other.

That girl was me.

"Thank you, sir." I said politely, handing the cabdriver his fare and promptly leaving the car. As I watched the cab drive away, I pulled up my parasol, holding it over my head as soon as I could. I would hate to get wet in this dress.

I ran up to the door as fast as was possible in high-heels, taking in everything; the pulley for the door-bell, the huge, black door, the two doghouses in particular. Two huge German Shepherds were sitting in the doghouses, nibbling on bones that were as big as my arms. Edward had fed Caius and Demetri well, but still, just in case...

I pulled a little pouch of dog-food from the pocket of my trench-coat, dumping it out in front of the twin doghouses. It had a lot more food in it than it looked like it would; I was positive they would be okay until tomorrow. I petted both of their heads as they munched happily on their food, and then walked up to the door, taking a deep breath.

This would be the hard part.

I jammed the nail of my pinkie finger into the lock of the door, turning it this way and that for a few minutes, in a futile attempt to open the door. When that didn't work, I tried it with the tip of my fan, but still, no luck.

For a minute, I considered knocking on the door, but I knew he'd never let me in.

Then I finally remembered, and tugged at a piece of pink ribbon tied round my neck, hidden by the boa I wore. Sure enough, an old-looking key was on it.

That key was, ironically enough, the key to finding out this whole mystery, in a way.

Gratefully, I pushed it into the lock, and sped into the house, almost falling down the steps in the hall, and came to a stop.

From one of the rooms, I heard a loud scream. I froze, slightly afraid. A slapping sound interrupted the scream, and was followed by stony silence. A familiar voice declared hesitantly. "I…I had to stop her from screaming."

What I saw only somewhat shocked me. A dead man was lying face-down on the floor- a man I recognized, and wouldn't miss.

"Well," I asked, unafraid, "Who dropped dead here?"

I heard numerous voices-six, to be exact-exclaiming in shock at my sudden appearance.

I looked up and saw seven faces I'd seen before, one I knew better than the rest.

On the couch sat an older lady with blonde-brown hair in a feathery orange hat and a dress to match, who I knew was Mrs. Peacock.

In front of her stood a blonde man wearing glasses in a blue suit, Mr. Green.

A little ways away stood a man with brown hair who was starting to go bald on top, glasses, and a tweed jacket and plaid bow tie. Professor Plum was his alias name.

Gathered in front of the mantle were three people, two women and one man.

One of the ladies was rather petite, a slip of a thing with excruciatingly pale skin and dark eyes with black hair in a bob, and dressed all in black. Strangely enough, her alias was Mrs. White. She held a rope in one hand.

The other one was taller, with wavy red-brown hair cut quite short, in a pretty blue dress with a sash pinned on with a brooch, and fingernails painted red. Miss Scarlet. I happened to notice she was holding a candlestick without a candle.

The man between them was rather fat, with gray-blonde hair and wore a brown suit and was holding a wrench. His name was Colonel Mustard.

The last one was the one I knew best. He was a young man of 25, with slightly wavy brown hair, green-blue eyes, and wore a tailcoat with matching pants and a vest and white shirt underneath and a black tie with a wing collar. He was glaring at me angrily. I smiled sweetly in response.

This man wasn't going by an alias. His name was Edward Wadsworth, the "butler."

He was my older brother, and I was here to help him, and to drive him mad. And I expected I'd succeed at both.