The World of Myth Magazine

Mark’s eyes darted from the body of one dead friend to another. Carl lay by the doorway, a butcher knife stuck in his chest. Amy was slumped over at the dinner table. Her head rested in a puddle of pea soup, a green foam bubbling from her mouth. Lester had an electric cord wrapped around his neck and Jean sat in the corner, a look of terror frozen onto her face.

In the distance, sirens began to wail.

Mark turned to his wife, Emily. “You know dear, maybe we didn’t quite understand the whole ‘How to Host a Murder’ thing correctly.”

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