All Hallows Eve
Disclaimer: I don't own SK but I do own everything else.
Alex-Hernandez, this is for you!
Note: And more back-story into the horror! (Yes this important.)
Chapter Two:
Emma's Story
Emma was ten years old, the daughter of caring well-to-do parents: Clara and Charles. They lived in a large house, which had been freshly painted not more than a week ago, giving it a sophisticated, cheery air. It was an impressive home, and the envy of all the neighbors.
Now it came to pass that Clara met the mother of a girl named Emily, and although they came from different social standings, they became fast friends. They encouraged their daughters to do the same, and so on this pleasant Sunday afternoon, Emma and Emily were playing in the garden.
Emma (who always liked to be called 'Em') was a spoilt child despite her parents' best efforts. Emma was jealous of Emily's popularity with everyone she met due to her kindly disposition. Emma on the other hand was rather quiet and boorish in comparison. Emma was showing off her favorite new Sunday outfit, a white sundress with little blood red flowers on it. She accented the dress with a white straw hat and red Mary Janes. She liked to tilt the hat over her eyes, to conceal what she was thinking. And this was especially useful on this particular day… After all, how best to deal with jealousy, than to remove the competition?
"Come on Emily, I found something interesting yesterday, it's over this way!"
"Ooh, is it a frog? Oh tell me please!" Emma gave her best winning smile, but it still held some malice.
"No, I wouldn't want to ruin the… surprise. It's just over by the old well here." Emma pointed and led an eager Emily by her wrist. Upon arriving at the well, Emily craned her neck to see the 'surprise'.
"I don't see anything, where is it?"
"Oh, it's on the other side. If you can find it from here, I'll give it to you!" Emma had a dastardly plan in mind, and she executed it by tripping Emily just when she had leaned over the well. The well was old and dried out, but it was still a long way down. She was dead with a broken neck as soon as she hit the bottom. No one would suspect the daughter of such respectable parents, and the girl's best friend no less! And even if they did, no one could prove anything, she had both their feet hidden in the grass around the well when she cleverly tripped her, so no one would notice.
The funeral took place a week later, with exactly fifty-two friends and family in attendance. Emma was sickly content, yes, very much so. That is, until she looked at the sign-in book and saw the number. For a being such as she was, she knew she'd never have that many people at her funeral. And that thought stuck in her brain, repeating an endless mantra: 'Never. Never. Never.' Well why not? She could have that many people on her side, even without having died! She mulled over this on the drive home, and all the night besides.
Charles and Clara sat down for their evening drink, enjoying the cool summer breeze.
"Here's to you m'dear."
Clara smiled before taking a sip.
Half an hour later, they began to feel lightheaded. Clara had drunk two glasses, Charles three glasses. Charles made an odd whining sound, before falling off his chair, blood leaking from his mouth. Clara tried to scream but found she couldn't, she was too astonished. She rushed to his side, feeling for a pulse, but before she could do anything to help, she too collapsed, slumping over her husband lifelessly.
When the police arrived, they had been dead an hour.
"Looks like lover's suicide… But what was their motive?"
No one could answer him.
Emma sat in a chair in the corner, hat tilted over her eyes, unable to hide her smile as well.
"Fifty-two. Fifty-two. Fifty-two." she kept muttering, over and over, as if it were all she was thinking. A policeman, seeing her smile, walked over to question her.
"Do you have any knowledge of your parents' deaths? We found no wounds, just blood, so we're guessing it was poison. So… do you?" Emma began rocking back and forth stopping with the muttering.
"Wouldn't you like to know? I killed her, I killed her!"
"Who?"
"Emily." Emma paused, taking in his expression, grinning a wide rictus grin. "Clara. Charles. All of them."
"H-how?" She was just a fairly innocent ten-year-old, how could she do it? "What did you do to your parents? Was it in their drinks- Oh God!"
"It's arsenic you old fool! Arsenic!" Emma laughed then, coughing up a bit of blood in the process. All at once she went into horrific convulsions, much to everyone's shock. She was dead not five minutes later. She died with that same terrible grin on her face.
She was right.
She didn't have as many people at her funeral.
Thirteen.