The sun was bright and warm as B strolled down the wide dirt road leading out of Blackwood Cemetery.
Her high leather boots made rhythmic, cheerful thumps against the packed dirt. Her floor-length snow-white hair swayed gently behind her dark black dress, brushing past her ankles.
With 517 Vicks tucked safely into the small pocket of her shorts, her mind was completely filled with thoughts of food.
'First, three vanilla cream buns from the bakery,' B planned in her head, her sleepy void-black pupils sparkling with rare excitement. 'Then maybe two dark chocolate rolls. Oh, and a bottle of cold fruit juice from the market stand. If the candied banana guy is out today, I'll buy two of those too.'
Back in her previous life, payday had always been a depressing event. The moment her paycheck landed in her bank account, ninety percent of it was immediately swallowed by student loan payments, rent, electricity bills, and interest fees. She would be left with just enough money to buy cheap instant noodles and bitter energy drinks for the rest of the month.
Now? She had no bills, no debt, and no rent. Every single Vick in her pocket was pure spending money for snacks, sweet pastries, and cozy things.
She hummed a quiet, nameless tune to herself as she walked, completely ignoring the faint, whispering breeze that rustled through the ironwood trees along the road.
After twenty minutes of easy walking, B reached the entrance archway of Oakhaven Village.
She stepped onto the paved stone street, ready to submerge herself in the usual noisy, cheerful bustle of the town square.
However, the moment her boots touched the cobblestones road of the village, B stopped in her steps.
The village felt... strange.
It was way too quiet.
Usually, at this time of the morning, the main street was packed with people. Vendors would be shouting out their daily sales, children would be chasing each other down the pathways, and old men would be sitting on wooden benches chatting peacefully.
Today, the paved street was almost entirely empty.
The colorful market stalls were closed shut, their wooden windows shut tightlyq. The few villagers who were actually outside weren't strolling casually, they were walking very fast in almost a sprint, holding their coats or jackets tight around their chests, glancing nervously over their shoulders every few seconds before darting quickly into their stone houses and shutting the doors.
B tilted her soft head to the side, her long white hair shifting over her pale shoulder.
"Is today a holiday?" B whispered to herself in her high-pitched, childish voice. "Why is everyone in such a hurry?"
She scratched her cheek, feeling a little confused, but she didn't dwell on it too much. Holidays or not, as long as the bakery was open, her plan remained unchanged.
She turned down the main street, heading toward the corner where Oakhaven Fresh Bakes was located.
As she shuffled past a small flower shop, a quiet voice called out from a porch on her right.
"Oh dearie! Little angel sweetie!"
B paused, turning her head to the voice direction.
Standing on the wooden porch of a small stone cottage was the sweet old grandmother she had helped with the dropped apples yesterday. The old woman was holding a heavy wooden broom, looking out toward the main street with a deeply worried expression on her wrinkled face.
Recognizing her, B gave a polite, small bow of her head. "Hello, grandma."
"Come up here, child! Quickly!" the grandmother urged, waving her hand anxiously toward the porch.
B shuffled up the short stone steps, holding her long dress in one arm. "What's wrong, grandma? Why is the village so quiet today? Is there some culture or maybe today is everyone's holiday?"
The old grandmother quickly pulled B into the shadow of the porch, looking left and right down the empty street in guard before leaning down to whisper in a low, trembling voice.
"Oh dearie, you haven't heard, sweetie?" the grandmother whispered, her eyes wide with concern. "A really terrible, horrific thing happened just two days ago in Oakridge Town!"
"Oakridge Town?" B repeated softly. She remembered seeing that name on a road sign near the forest. It was a larger town located about twenty kilometers west of the village. She never exactly know anything about that town aside from what she knew from the sign by the forest.
"Yes," the grandmother nodded grimly, clutching her broom tightly. "A terrible tragedy! A local man from there... a previously loving husband... suddenly went completely mad! For no reason at all, he turned on his own family and murdered his sweet wife and their tiny baby inside their own home!"
B's pitch-black pupils widened slightly. "H... Huh? M-murdered...?"
"The police and special investigators are over there right now," the grandmother continued, shaking her head with deep sorrow. "They say the man claimed he heard strange voices in his head right before he lost control. But the scary part, little angel... the scary part is that rumors are spreading fast!"
The grandmother leaned even closer, her voice dropping into a barely audible shiver.
"Some of the older folks are saying it wasn't just a normal crime. They say a wicked, evil spirit possessed that poor man! And now people are terrified that the evil spirit might drift down the road to Oakhaven! That's why everyone is locking their doors and staying inside today! No one want to enrage whatever evil spirit that possessed the man to do such heinous action"
The old woman reached out, taking B's small pale hand into her warm, wrinkled palms.
"You must be very careful, sweetie," the grandmother urged sweetly, looking down at B's frail fifteen-year-old body. "Don't go wandering down dark roads alone. Run straight home to your parents, alright? Can you promise grandma that, sweetie?"
B stood there on the wooden porch, her pale face completely blank, but inside her heart, a sudden wave of genuine fear flared up.
Back in her previous life on Earth, B had been a total coward when it came to scary things. Murderers, possessed killers, and spooky ghost stories were her absolute worst nightmare. Hearing about a violent crime happening just twenty kilometers away made a cold shiver run straight down her spine.
Her timbers were officially shivered.
"U-Understood grandma..." B stammered slightly, her childish voice trembling just a tiny bit. "Thank you for telling me, grandma."
"Stay safe, sweetie," the old woman said, giving B's small pale hand one final squeeze before stepping back inside her cottage and locking the heavy wooden door tight.
CLICK.
B stood alone on the quiet porch steps, staring at the closed wooden door.
Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
'A possessed murderer...?' B thought to herself, her mind racing with wild, terrifying images. 'What if he escaped police? What if an evil spirit really is wandering around the forest? What if I run into a crazy guy with a knife on my way home?!'
Her natural cowardice screamed at her to turn around right this second, run as fast as her short legs could carry her back to Blackwood Cemetery, lock her heavy metal cabin door, and hide under her soft blanket forever.
She took one small step backward, preparing to bolt.
Gurgle...
Her stomach gave a sharp, empty rumble.
B stopped, her boot hovering above the stone step.
She reached into the small pocket of her shorts, feeling the thick, crisp 500-Vick note stack resting against her skin.
She looked down the street toward the bakery window, where the soft golden outlines of fresh vanilla-cream buns were visible through the clean glass.
B stood on the stone steps for three long seconds, engaged in a fierce internal battle between her extreme cowardice and her profound love for sweet pastries.
"No..." B mumbled, her pale lips forming a tight, stubborn pout. She shook her small head hard, pushing the scary thoughts away. "The villagers are probably just overexaggerating. Small country towns always make up wild rumors about murder and ghosts. Especially to make children behave well, right?"
Besides, Oakridge Town was about twenty kilometers or so away! That was a super long walk! No killer or spooky spirit would walk twenty whole kilometers through the woods just to come to Oakhaven, right?
And even if there was a crazy person out there, she was just a quiet fifteen-year-old grave keeper buying bread. She wasn't involved in any of that scary stuff.
"I came here for cream buns," B said to herself with firm, stubborn logic. "And I have 517 Vicks. I am not going home empty-handed."
She straightened her dark dress, picked up her long white hair in her arm, and stepped back onto the paved street.
Keeping her void-black eyes alert, scanning every empty alleyway just in case a scary murderer popped out, the nervous little grave keeper marched determinedly toward the front doors of Oakhaven Fresh Bakery, ready to claim her sweet payday reward.
Author's Note
EliteToeCollector
Thanks for reading!