The day had already been stained and tense. And the murder just made it worse. The cloudy grey sky copied the atmosphere that hang around the estate. Depression and suspicion seem to fill the place.

Delilah had been in a fowl awfully sort of mood that you only got away with if you were elderly and rich but a pair of tired eyes watched him closely on this day.

His last day.

You'd think the man would a crack a smile even a smirk at his companions celebrating his successful life. And what a wonderful dark life he was living.

Well, lived.

Kieran bet he was scowling even now, in his death frozen state..Wouldn't you be? What an awful sort of birthday present he had received. Death gift wrapped by the murderer themselves.

And fifty suspects as well. He, himself included.

Like one of Pegasus Murkwood fine soups the plot was thickening and only time would tell when the whole thing boiled over and explode with harsh heat.

Was he really comparing murder to soup at the moment?

Insomnia will do that to you. Perhaps he was just hungry. A murder will that to you.

Despite what others may think, Kieran was actually fond of Mr Black and his heart pained him greatly to think the man a cold corpse now.

It was at his suggestion that Kieran even lived here today. He had been diagnosed with insomnia for as long as he could remember and it had made him a bitter and lonely child- even more now that he had reached adulthood.

But since coming to the estate he had thought--he had thought he might have made some companions if nothing less. But now he realized he didn't know them all that well at all.

He was living with a murderer. And it may, possibly, even be himself.

Even so, there was still a few he felt bonded to. Maria Simmons was one. The paranoid lady was quite the friend when she needed to be and they had long chats over coffee and tea, mainly comparing medicine bottles and his habit of catching chickens and the latest book she had dig up.

Of course recently they talked of other things too. How close Grace Knight and Lesley Griffen had been associating as of late as well Daniel Close Soliciting and Ashton odd finger cut. its also how he learned of Edward Livingstone was treating a burn. Which was more then odd because he was supposed to know Edward better then Maria.

He was sure at one point or another he'd follow up on those claims. He just didn't have the energy at the moment.

Or the social networking skills.

And so their talks had gotten more...interesting.

So had his chats with Miss Palmer. At first she was quite intimidating but he come to know her as a clever woman who was high witted and who could be very informative. That didn't mean though, that he fully trusted her.

Did he really trust anyone anymore?

Then he remember Edith Greene. He had overheard her talking about murder mysteries. Unfortunately he hadn't gotten close enough to see with whom she was speaking with. Kieran was sure of one thing.

Who ever it was, may have been the first to hear Edith new bestseller or her confession to murder.

No, no Edith wasn't like that and she had to have been talking with Emma. They were nice good people.

Wasn't they?

Kieran shook his head. The thoughts were flying away again.

He had bonded with many other fellow tenants as well. To his utter surprise mostly women who were strong and intelligent with class. Hmm, perhaps he was becoming, what was the modern word? Ah yes, a ladies man.

Kieran picked a black stone framed mirror from his bedside. He took notice of his dark hollowly looking eyes (Am I a descendant of raccoons?) and his short stingy black hair( yes Elvis, i tried your look and ended up like this)and not to mention his pale oily face.

He tried for a smile.

He ended up with a deep frown that wrinkled up his face.

Kieran put down the mirror and sighed. Perhaps he should consider the same sex to attract female companionship. Seems to work masterfully for Doncaster Jones.

The night dragged on and Kieran thoughts turned to the suspicious behavior of his fellow tenants as he lay in his mostly unused bed that long night.

Too many people with motives and knives in their hearts. Too many killers hiding in open sight. He wasn't neither too kind or hateful towards any of them to consider them friends or enemies.

He was just a pair of tired eyes watching them closely from dark corridors.

The closest the thing he had to male friendship was Edward Livingstone. And even he had his own secrets, his own ...desires.

He and Edward Livingstone had been bonding as of late. An odd relationship of sorts, Edward had dark and troubling history that Kieran barely knew an inch off.

But wasn't as if he were pouring out his own desires and troublesome history either.

Another companion then. Not a friend.

All things wasn't well between Edward and Mr Black as well he could tell that much. The tension ran high when they were in a room together and Kieran couldn't help but wonder about their relationship.

He never asked though. How could he? Shadows don't talk, they follow.

The clock stroked the mid night witching hour with dull click beside him.

Still awake.

Still aware.

There was more to being tired then people thought. He wasn't just physically exhausted anymore, he was emotionally and mentally exhausted as well. It was like everyone woke up with a new day and a bright new start and he was still stuck in yesterday back in the past with the old problems still trying to get that sleep from last night and keep away the regrets.

An endless hangover of sorts.

Kieran sat upright and opened his bedside cabinet with a soft hiss as he took out his medication.

This will make you better.

This will take away the thoughts.

This will let you rest.

Fake promises build on lies. Only the dead ever truly rested, and if that was true, Kieran thought, I wish you the best of sleep Mr Black.

He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry as a scary thought entered his foggy mind.

What if the Doctor was the killer?

If so, this could be poison. This could keeping him from getting better.

The thoughts were dark and Kieran was never one that liked the night so he shut out their light. Impossible, Lena had more motive, didn't she?

And she had been packing up as well hasn't she? He had seen her doing it with his tired eyes as he did many other things at night. While others slept he walked the about the estate sometimes stumbling along secrets but most of time haunting along the doors.

A shadowy figure you might glimpse of then look at it again and see it gone.

He had seen Lena Morris tossing about her dresses and jewelry in many bags as he stared dully from dark and shadowy corridors.

He thought he might ask where she could be heading. Maybe sit across from her with tea and cookies and have a conversation about the murder and she could tell him her reasoning for packing. Perhaps they'd grew close, perhaps they'll be friends.

Maybe.

Maybe tomorrow night. He thought as he walked off silently like a cat. Or the night after that...maybe next week after things have calmed.

But if he had?

Would he caught Mr Black murder in her escape?

Was she fleeing before others caught on to her sins?

Maybe not.

She certainly wasn't the only suspicious character in this estate and who's to say what he had seen wasn't a hallucination?

Oh he saw so many of them. The chicken and ghostly figures that followed him. Once he swore he saw Merlin swimming in their lake.

Then there was the time he thought Marilyn Monroe had came to visit. Only to discover it was his reflection.

And he was wearing a white dress and blonde wig. Where these items had come from remains as much of a mystery as Mr Black death.

Everyone seem to get that he was...infected with madness.

Insomnia insomnia insomnia. Sometimes he'd repeat the word with his eyes wide awake on starry nights.

Kieran sighed as he glanced out his window at the starless night. All these thoughts of suspects and murderers and chickens wearing white dresses wasn't great bedtime stories.

For all he knew he could've been the murderer.

It was possible, with the medications and lack of sleep he wasn't the sanest of minds at the estate. Could he have, in a foggy moment, gotten upset with Mr Black and perhaps end his life?

He was loopy at the best of times. In fact he couldn't recall what he was even doing at the time of the murder.

This was something he probably shouldn't share with others but couldn't find in his bones to lie about.

He wasn't asleep, that was painfully certain. What had he done? Where had been? And most importantly, who had seen him doing it?

Kieran stood to his imply legs. Even if he didn't sleep apparently his leg did. He slipped on a black rope and made his way to the door.

A walk was in order then. Not to the gardens though, too many suspicions hiding among flowers there.

Then he realized that instead of his robe he had wrapped his blanket around himself.

He went back and got the robe.

The cold air brushed about his body as he stepped outside into the black filled sky.

The land was as it always. Perfectly kept and taken care of not a stick out of place. But perfect was a lying word and imperfections made things beautiful so the garden had no love from Kieran Ray.

Behind him the woods were alive with howls and cracks. Maybe he wasn't the only creature with sleeping problems. Were the werewolves and bears awake at moment as well? Did they have murder problems as well?

Did they fear the night as he did?

No. Kieran thought with disinterest, they killed others and called it a meaty meal. They weren't put in jail for their crimes.

Before he got too envious he reminded himself what he had for dinner that evening.

Perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas to walk alone out in the open with a murderer on the loose. But he had heard about many, many people out and about in the garden after dark so he wasn't too afraid.

He was the shadow. And no one could kill a shadow without the light.

He began his routine walk around the estate. The grass moist and the soil soft as his feet took one step after other. He gripped the black robe he threw on and wished he had taken a cotton coat instead.

He wondered briefly if Mr Black body would be buried in the very land he walked over. But the thought bought him unease and he had to shut it out and think of burnt red butterflies flying across his head.

Walking was like breathing to him. He could do it half aware and most of the time he did. Same walk same distance same people hiding their secrets with his.

Like how closely Mina Palmer and Tracy Collins have been associating as of late. Kieran mused as he looked up at the sky. No stars but..

A full mood.

What could the ruthless Journalist and the more creature then person have in common to spend their time together that much?

Murder plots perhaps?

Exchanging mug pie recipes?

His favorite mug pie was the ones filled with extra spiders. It just had that extra kick in the taste.

But Kieran knew there was as many secrets and lies as spiders and rats at the black estate and he might never get answer as to what they been up to.

He wasn't Nikita Rose. He wasn't a psychic, he didn't know what would happen next. And he was sure he didn't want to.

He felt drained. And at that moment he couldn't care less about murder or which of his fellow tenants had done it.

He should be in bed- he should be asleep.

But.

Not all things go the way their meant to and somewhere along the way..

Things just turn wrong.

He feels around in the pocket of his robe and pulls out the medication bottle and pops a few more into his dry mouth.

Maybe he'll get lucky and pass out on the yard like he did last August.

No, that was too wistful. That was a miracle that would never be repeated. A dream he could never have, because he in fact, had never had a dream.

Just blank waves of exhaustion that hit him with peacefulness at random times.

He continued zombie walking, not even noticing where his feet moved only that he now seek the warmth of a house.

It was two more hours before he sees another soul. He stands by the doorway and watches the subject without his notice.

He wasn't trying to be a creep.

Sometimes his legs stopped working and his head began to fixate on a matter so much so he actually freezes and watches for hours and hours. Staring with tired eyes.

He wasn't trying to be a creep.

But insomnia had made him one long ago.

His eyes cast over the man's fingers as he moves another piece on the black and white broad. The man is thoughtful with his moves as he plays for the black side against the white.

Dark against light bright against might who will win this endless fight? Kieran had to remind himself that it was just a chess match.

He closed his eyes for a moment as he listened to man ticking off different pieces imagining them as his thoughts.

Then the man says something and Kieran sighed softly. He was just starting to doze off too.

The man knock away the white king with a satisfying trump. "There goes the king..and I'm left to win." He whispers to himself unaware of the tired eyes peering at him from the doorway.

Kieran stands for a moment longer before fading away into the darkness of the night.

Best to leave Arren Vivaldi to his own business.

Kieran somehow ends up back his bed. Not remembering exactly how that action came to be but not really caring as he slipped of his robe and sat on soft mattress.

He couldn't help but think that Arren Vivaldi little game of chess had a more sinister symbolism.

There it goes again. His mind wondering and spinning. But no, his mind didn't just wonder, his mind takes drugs goes on a drinking spree and ends up in Thailand without clothes on.

He opens the pill bottle for the third time that night and takes a small gulp of pills. Then he pulls open the cabinet across the room which held his strongest alcohol.

Not sleep.

But good enough for dozing consciousness.

Would the murder be caught?

Or would this turn into a murder mystery that would be told generations later?

Only time could tell, Kieran thought as he took a long slow slip of burning whiskey, and he would stay awake every second till then. That much he was sure of.

_________________________________________

Okay aren't you happy you met Kieran now? He's a lovely fellow isn't he? *Points knife at you again and you nod swiftly*

Thank you all for reading. This is apart of the whodunit contest and I'm not if this will have a continuation or if its a short story so I'm going to ahead and mark as it as complete.

Also feel free to point out grammar mistakes, it makes me a better person.

Word count: 2752

......

You can leave now.

What do you mean the door won't open?

Ugh just go through the window, it not that far of a drop.

Don't tell me your scared... here let me help.

*pushes you out of window*

Disclaimer: No readers were harmed in the making of this story. Thank you. Don't forget to vote.

(Psss,@Xxcloudy_ SkyeX? This is for you.❤💥💖)