Sinister Six

The Tomb

On the dampened doorstep of Manon and Alistair's brownstone apartment, laid a faded amber envelope with a distinctive maroon wax seal. Manon broke the seal with her finger and pulled the letter from the envelope.

𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐒.𝐁.𝐂

𝙾𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚡.- 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝒞𝓎𝓇𝒾𝓁 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓌𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝐒.𝐁.𝐂

YALE COLLEGE, OCTOBER 2018

One night is awaiting us all. Manon mouthed, as she tossed the letter with disregard onto the accumulating heap of weekly meeting reminders on the foyer table.

Manon peeled off her muggy tweed coat and let it fall to the floor where she stood, letting out a profound sigh.

"Can I make you anything, Manon?" Alistair called from the kitchen.

"A stiff brandy would be nice," Manon chortled, leaning against the kitchen door frame, her arms tightly hugging her chest.

"I think this will do the trick," Alistair declared. Placing a cup of Mama's famous chamomile mint tea in Manon's hands. The warmth from the mug radiated goosebumps up her arms as she observed the steam rise from her cup, inhaling the soothing herbs.

Manon was repelled at the day that loomed ahead. All she yearned for was sleep, and she loathed sleep.

"I'll s...s...see you at supper club," Alistair affirmed, glancing down at his brown leather wristwatch, navigating around Manon with haste as he guzzled down his tea and flung his bookbag over his shoulder. Alistair was out the door before Manon could answer him.

Manon's classes didn't start for another hour. She kicked off her clunky oxford shoes and moseyed her way upstairs to the third-floor study. The study smelled of coffee and musk from the decades-old books accumulating on the shelves. Manon sprawled herself out on a worn-out, chestnut brown leather chaise lounge. She studied the shelves of books and manuscripts; rows from floor to ceiling. Her eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each title her eyes wandered over. Manon wasn't capable of shaking the sleep from her fatigued eyes, her blurred vision faded to black

A booming clap of thunder jolted Manon awake. She propelled her eyes towards the clock perched on the coffee table. It was half-past seven in the evening...

"You've got to be kidding me!" Manon groaned, placing her head in her hands. She slept through her entire school day.

Manon sat at the edge of the chaise lounge with her shoulders slumped. She slouched for a minute, regained her composure, and set off downstairs to leave for supper club.

The night grew leaden- a blanket of stars stretched over the autumnal sky. There was a chill in the air. New Haven came alive in the nighttime. The night air was charged like an alluring entity. With peculiar, yet invigorating energy- luring you into an eccentric stupor.

Dry, dead leaves crunched beneath Alistair and Manon's feet as they approached The Skull and Bones tomb. A cloud of cold air emerged from Manon's breath, she straightened her stance as they clambered into the windowless tomb.