The Solstice family were an odd bunch; murder, witchcraft, and funerals were integral parts of their everyday life. Elvira Solstice was no exception. Her parents married out of pure loathing, and spent their lives slipping poison into each other's f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Walking the streets of Scarville in the late afternoons of August was like inhaling damaged gauze. It was always so hot, and everyone was so polite, and everything was so perfect on the surface but underneath it was a bomb waiting to erupt - people denying their base instincts and hiding the shadows of their hearts. It always felt like beneath the smiles and hospitality were a lot of secrets.
For instance Clara Hungleback, owner of the pet shop that I was hesitating towards, had a thing for feet. It was so intense that she could no longer walk into her own store without sizing up every customer's shoe size. I was never worried about this, of course, because the points of my boots were extended in such a way that knowing my exact sizing would be impossible. It was quite amusing to watch the annoyance brim beneath her mossy irises.
The store itself was a cozy little hellhole. Every inch of the interior walls were painted in bright pinks and purples, almost blinding compared to the warm hues of orange that sat on the outside bricks. I folded my umbrella and tucked it under my arm as I entered, immediately deafened by the chaotic cries of the displayed pets. Animals never liked my family. Not the common, household ones anyway. Vultures would fly onto our shoulders and offer us pieces of decomposing lion flesh, but dogs growled at our scent and kittens fled as if sensing our aura. It was a common misconception that cats were the companions of all things dark and mysterious. Cats were smarter than that.
"Good morning!" Chimed the salesperson as they dropped a dead mouse into a glass case. Within seconds a Rosy Boa slithered into view and unhinged its jaw. The mouse was devoured relatively quickly, but I could still see the bump of its carcass rolling down the serpant's throat. It made me hungry. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"
My nose wrinkled and I glanced at the sun blaring through the windows with a grunt of disapproval. "No, it is not."
The worker wasn't Clara, and judging by his awkward reaction to my answer, he was fairly new in town. Most people were uncomfortable or even frightened by my family (Heaven knows why!) but he looked genuinely perplexed. That state of confusion only heightened when he realised that the animals were becoming even more hysterical than before. They clawed at their cages, screaming at the top of their lungs - terrified by some unseeable force.
I paid no mind to the foul creatures around me. "I require four Canaries, and ensure that they are the plumpest ones available."
At first I was not sure that he had heard me over the chaos, but then there was a flicker of anxiety that enveloped his expression. I only now bothered a glance at his name tag which read in large, readable font - 'Calvin'.
"You know, Calvin is derived from the French word 'chauve'." I said, half attempting to jolt him out of his daze so that I could leave a little sooner. "It means bald. I suppose that does not bode well for you in the future."
Calvin, who ironically had very thick blonde hair, blinked almost blankly at me before uttering, "What?..."
"Canaries." I replied quickly, completely disregarding my previous statements. "Four, if you please."
