Unpublished short fiction

Someone got eaten. It may have been Paulina, or it could have been Fitzjames, or perhaps it was Stanley. That rat bastard Stanley. It was probably him who got eaten. I can’t say for certain, but someone definitely got eaten here. Look at the bones. Look at the guts. I think that’s a skull over there, or pieces of one anyway. Someone got eaten here for sure. And most of them got eaten, too—there’s very little left.
      What kind of animal would eat a whole person? All at once? And to leave their guts all over the sitting room like this? That might be a forehead in the Davenport. Why is the Davenport open? If you were eating someone, surely you wouldn’t have time to open the Davenport. What kind of animal eats someone and then opens the Davenport? Maybe it was snooping around while it was eating someone’s forehead and dropped it in the Davenport. Seems a plausible explanation, I think. It might be a forehead but it could also be an elbow.
      It sure looks like someone got eaten. But who? This might be their shirt over here. See?
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2,861 words