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| France Portnawak |
“Who’s blood is that?”
He tilted his head, wriggling his nose. Strange card.
The monthly dinner party was a scrumptious meal seasoned with intelligent conversation.
Who'd written this? Certainly not the host. Mrs. Bates would never make such a blatant mistak...
“Wait...”
He folded the card. “Who's that?” Makes sense. These dinners were always slightly mysterious.
He folded it again. “Who's blood?” Ummm...
How about “Blood that?” Too much folding.
He set the card aside and dinner proceeded as usual.
At midnight, the letters on all cards turned red.
He was the only survivor. Apparently, folded evilness doesn't work properly!
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