The Lotus ***

Every house has its secrets.

Some can bury their secrets for lifetimes, while others slowly chip away in the most unreasonable of times. To prevent these chips from growing bigger, they get masked. People go missing, doors get locked, the insane grow quiet. Though no matter how much one can bandage these wounds, there is always one who must always pry. They have to see the infected skin, the blood oozing from open flesh. For they believe a scar is better than the mask. A scar leaves character. It leaves a story to tell forever. Scars are for lifetimes.

One would think as the second world war came to a well needed end, that the troubles of war would finally end along with it. There would finally be peace. There will finally be growth. Communities were growing together and rebuilding what was lost. Leaders from all around the world met publicly to proclaim this declaration of freedom. Soldiers were coming home. Every second was turning over a new leaf and the people were happy.

Though, everything was a mask. The public may have not known this, the leaders may have not known this, but it was a mask. This mask was a world wide and only deep enough to persuade the simple minds of the human mind. There was someone out there that wanted their scar to remain, so in order to do this, they needed to break that mask. Though they realized soon enough that they couldn't do this alone. They needed someone smart, someone who wanted to see this scar just as badly as they did. Someone who didn't even realize that they wanted this deed too.

Thick black hair gathered and tangled into sloppy curls as it swayed in the ripples of the pool waters. The body of a man of Japanese decent slowly floated to the top of the clear pool. He wore an expensive suit, no shoes, and was floating face down dead. Screams were muffled and up two stories as the strong thunder boomed even higher above the screams. The world was dark. It was approaching dawn, though the thick clouds full of rain blocked any sunlight upon the scene.

A gorgeous newly built hotel stood strong behind the large pool. The hotel was to mark the mark of a new era for the city of London. War was over and as a token to the men that had all fought and fallen, a paradise was made for them in mind. A hotel named “The Hanging Gardens”. Adorned with beautiful trees and thousands of different flowers, the hotel left the mark as a true wonder within the community. Three different gardens surrounded the building which all connected to the large pool patio in the back.

Though even through all of this beauty and wonder, not even one month after opening, the body of a guest has been found murdered. As the heavens opened, letting loose to a well needed rain across the land, any sign of evidence quickly started to wash away. Stains, fingerprints, anything that could be of use to solve this important man's murder was disappearing right in front of the caretaker's eyes.

The caretaker, a balding man with glasses that liked to fall down his thin nose, stared wide eyed from the second floor window. The Japanese man below was a highly favored individual who was visiting from his country to meet with the country's famed prime minister. What exactly escaped the balding caretaker, but for this to happen, one night after he came to this sacred place, terrified him. Evidence was washing away, the man was floating lifeless on the water, and above all white lotus flowers floated about the pool outlining the man's sides.

The situation was sudden, but most of all, bizarre. Fearing the gossip and the media's harsh words, he turned and demanded the maid behind him to call for help. He demanded to call anyone she could. The military, Scotland Yard, any no name detective. With a loud voice he demanded that someone needed to come now and solve what happened to this guest, else they might as well would have started the next war. Thunder and lighting appeared across the window in a dramatic conclusion to his speech, and, with that, the young maid was gone.