𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮

On a warm, drowsy Sunday, a man in a long dark coat hesitated in front of a house deep in the forest. The forest that whispered to you, playing tricks on your head, or guided you to dark wisps of light.

He hadn't parked a car, nor had he come by taxi. No person had seen him enter the forest, but then again, the forest liked tricks. He'd simply appeared, as if stepping between one shadow and the next.

The man walked to the door and lifted his fist to knock.

Inside the house, Kara sat on the opulent rug, drawing lopsided flowers with her pink pen. She smiled, stuffing a fist full of celery into her mouth. Her full cheeks bulged as she munched.

Her father, working in his office, peered through the door at her, and smiled once she giggled at the television, once it seemed the mouse was about to be eaten. He turned back, scratching his round ear.

Unlike her father, Kara's ear was not completely round; it was slightly pointed, identical to her mother.

Kara was different to her cousins, daughters of her father's siblings.

They whispered about her, but they played together all the same. They only heard whispers of their parents about her. Unnatural, they'd whisper, freak.

She didn't care much. Grown-ups always gossip, always worry, whether it be about the eldest's lumbago, the price of avocados, or the strangeness of her mother and herself. It was normal.

Besides, she wouldn't like to grow distant from the few friends and family she had. They only visited occasionally, for important birthdays or celebrations.

It was a long way from. . . wherever they were, to Grandmama's house.

But Kara accepted her . . . abnormality quickly. She was excellent at adapting, her mother said. She noticed when they went to towns nearby how people gawked and whispered when they saw her. She liked the attention, whether good or bad, she didn't care.

Mama was like her, and Kara thought she was beautiful. She'd murmur a few words, and the points of her ears would turn smooth, like Papa's. She'd mumble a few more and the light green skin of hers would turn a light brown.

Mama would always smile down at her, her teeth a white row. Not you, she'd say, outlining her ear's shape with her long finger, you're lovely. Mama just wants to look fancy.

She'd certainly manage that. Men and women gaped at her, breath taken by her beauty. Papa would throw his arm around her shoulder, scowling.

Outside, the sun was shining, scorching the granite driveway. The fountain outside the window was spurting water, as usual. The water Mama liked to bend and curve with her fingers. Kara sniffed the air, confirming that Mama was in the kitchen cooking hamburgers.

Everything was boring. Everything was fine.

When the knock came, Kara hopped to her feet to answer it, a bounce in her step. Perhaps her cousins were here to surprise them, or, even better, a cat had wandered far enough to tap on their doorstep! Everything was possible.

A tall man stood on their mat, glaring down at her. His thick blonde brows were creased in confusion, his eyes surprised. Kara was struck by his height. His jaw tightened.

He wore a brown leather duster despite the heat. His shoes were shod with silver, and they rang hollowly as he stepped over the threshold. Kara looked up at his face and suppressed a shiver.

"Mom," she yelled. "Moooooooom. Someone 's here."

Her mother came in from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on her dress.