dANightsOfMystery

... can you guess the killer?

Founded

12

Years Ago117 Members104 Watchers

Gallery

And Then There Were Three

On a day just like any other, a mom and her daughter into a toyshop. They walk the ordinary aisles, with their ordinary toys. They come the aisle of dolls just like any other and the daughter's eyes come to rest upon a doll, which by chance, was certainly NOT like any other. But how could they have known? To them it was just a doll on a shelf. The daughter, as a young daughter would, pleaded for the doll, the doll with the pretty pink dress, the pretty green eyes, and the pretty peace sign she held up. The mother of course agreed, for what mother would refuse their daughter the thing she wanted most? The daughter cried out her thanks as her

Featured

Murder on the Galactic Express--Results

dANightsOfMystery presents... Murder on the Galactic Express... space travel is no picnic. First and foremost; this Murder Mystery Party is being hosted by the group dANightsOfMystery. #dANightsOfMystery (https://www.deviantart.com/danightsofmystery) Esteemed Guests (and shady naysayers)... This ticket is to be presented at 9 pm to the gatekeepers of the Galactic Express. Do not fear--they will not be running names or checking backgrounds for this event. Destination: Unity Space Station. Time of arrival: early to mid-morning. Please join me in celebrating Ambassador Lockwood's rise to power with a traveling party! The stars of the Interstellar Bypass await you on this journe

Current Parties

dANOM: The Coven

dANightsOfMystery (https://www.deviantart.com/danightsofmystery) presents... The ~cplz (https://www.deviantart.com/cplz):iconoplz::iconvplz::iconeplz::iconnplz:... dead and undead. First and foremost; this Murder Mystery Party is being hosted by the group dANightsOfMystery (https://www.deviantart.com/danightsofmystery). :icondanightsofmystery: TO MY FELLOW CREATURES OF THE NIGHT: Join us as we usher our newest sacrifice from the light into the darkness. Our lovely Madeline Briarwood has chosen to walk our path... and we are happy to assist. I know many of you are concerned about the hunter's presence. As your ancestors have done for hundreds of years before you... trust me that his attendance is not sinister. In order to keep this fragile peace be

Past Parties

How to Get Featured :winner: Artwork featured in this folder comes from deviants who earned at least ONE of the following prizes: :bulletpurple: Guessed the killer in one of our parties and earned the title of winner. :bulletpurple: Earned our Monthly Award, Best Host and/or Hostess of the Month. :bulletpurple: Earned our Monthly Award, Best Murderer and/or Murderess of the Month. :bulletpurple: Earned our Monthly Award, Best Guest of the Month.

And Then There Were Three by astroliqht, literature

Literature

And Then There Were Three

On a day just like any other, a mom and her daughter into a toyshop. They walk the ordinary aisles, with their ordinary toys. They come the aisle of dolls just like any other and the daughter's eyes come to rest upon a doll, which by chance, was certainly NOT like any other. But how could they have known? To them it was just a doll on a shelf. The daughter, as a young daughter would, pleaded for the doll, the doll with the pretty pink dress, the pretty green eyes, and the pretty peace sign she held up. The mother of course agreed, for what mother would refuse their daughter the thing she wanted most? The daughter cried out her thanks as her

torrential by SolarumNyx, literature

Literature

torrential

and when we get down to it, life is just a mess of could've been, would've been, should've been look up at the clouds dear, they're raining all the words you've never said a downpour of hate and loneliness and regret you won't find your silver lining here-- and there's a daisy chain on the ground ring around the rosie wasn't that what you used to sing? there's a ring in your heart, dear and it's choking you with songs of optimism the plague waits for no one.

The Story of Half an Hour by LionesseRampant, literature

Literature

The Story of Half an Hour

I hate Christmas Eve. I haven't always. It started when I was old enough to realize it was bad that boys didn't like me, and that same hatred has continued to this day. All of my friends are busy being cutesy with their boyfriends and I'm stuck, in a bar, in New York, alone. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be stuck in New York for Christmas than be back in my tiny town in Northern California, but I'd also rather be spending it with someone special. Someone who'd give me a necklace, or heck, anything, smothered in love. Instead, I am sitting on a stool, fingering the fraying edges of my black fingerless gloves while I listen to the bartender b