#her sparkle claw cap era

[willabee]

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 7

Sorry for the late chapter guys! I’ve gotten a new job recently and a class on top of that!

Ch 7: The Classy Skitty Man! A Different Kind of Challenge!  

“Wait, you can’t leave town! There’s some rare footprints I need to sketch!” a harried-looking artist pushed them away from his sketching grounds. “The nerve of some people! Can’t they recognize the potential discovery of a Regice’s footprints?”

Melissa ignored him, ripping off the yellow tape that blocked the route to Petalburg City.

The artist pushed up his glasses indignantly, the lenses flashing white. “Little girl,” he hissed dangerously. “You’ve disrespected the sanctity of Pokémon footprints. They’re a testament to the bond between trainer and Pokémon, and I will not stand for your mockery!”

He held up a Poké Ball.

Diogee scuffed the ground with his paw, but Milo held him back by the collar. “Wait a little more before battling, okay? We just got you healed from your fight with Shroomish and Minun.”

Diogee sat down with a small huff.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” Melissa said, taking a battle stance. “Torchic, let’s boom!”

She pitched the Poké Ball like a baseball, only for the device to fall to the ground a foot away.

Picking it up sheepishly, she threw it again. The ball slammed into the ground six inches in front of her.

Melissa groaned. “Oh, come on!”

The artist crossed his arms. “Delaying your inevitable defeat is a terrible course of action.”

“You think I’m doing this on purpose?”

“-and when I was nine, I was kidnapped by a pack of Smeargle and covered in their painted footprints during a ritual to provide their paintbrush god with an earthly vessel so he could share the knowledge of art and footprints to lowly mortals,” the artist explained.

Zack almost choked on his soda. “Wow, that’s…really interesting.”

“What’s the name of the paintbrush god?” Milo asked.

The artist tapped his chin in thought. “Well, I guess the closest thing in English would be ‘Raphaelmichaelangeloleonardodonatello’.”

“Torchic, let’s boom!” Melissa shouted, finally managing three feet with her Poké Ball toss.

Torchic opened her beak, releasing several embers to pump herself up.

“Okay, we’re ready now!” Melissa exclaimed. She turned towards the boys, frowning when she saw they’d laid out the entire picnic spread while she was struggling to throw her Poké Ball. “It’s a little early for lunch.”

Milo shrugged. “Artie here doesn’t battle well on an empty stomach. And don’t worry, we’ll save you a sandwich.”

“An artist named Artie?” Melissa returned Artie’s glare coolly. “Who knew?”

“First you mock the sanctity of footprints, now you make fun of my name!” Artie growled, rushing into a battle position. “Prepare for your inevitable-“

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Less declarations of hatred, more battling please.”

Artie released a Pokémon with a cute beret perched on its head. Blue paint oozed from a paw marking on its back and tail tip. It stuck its tongue out adorably as Milo checked its dex entry.

“Smeargle, the Painter Pokémon. In a thousand years, human society will collapse and the Great Smeargle Era will begin. Turf wars will become the dominant competitive sport.”

“Paint the field, Smeargle!” Artie commanded.

Smeargle spun in place, flinging blue paint all over the grassy terrain. Torchic ducked her head, jumping back when a splash of paint hit her wings. Realizing that Artie and Smeargle didn’t seem to care where the substance touched, Milo threw on a paintproof poncho, which was large enough to cover Zack as well. As Melissa ordered a Peck attack, Milo helped Diogee into an Absol-sized poncho.

Torchic rushed towards Smeargle, her beak glowing brightly as it elongated into a white, sharpened point.

“Dodge and use Sketch!” Artie yelled.

Smeargle waved its tail as it darted to the side, conjuring a pencil that floated over to Torchic. Startled by the writing utensil, Torchic’s concentration slipped and she lost her balance, stumbling face-first into the paint. The pencil circled Torchic as she recovered from her fall, leaving a trail of pink sparkles behind. The Painter Pokémon touched the pencil, allowing it to flicker out of existence.

“Torchic, watch out!” Melissa shouted as Smeargle charged with its tail extended into a sharp paint-covered point. But Torchic was too busy shaking the paint off her body, not paying attention to the battle at hand. Smeargle jabbed Torchic with the point, and the Chick Pokémon skidded back several feet against the paint-covered ground.

“Keep at it, Smeargle!” Artie crowed.

This time, Torchic was ready and countered with her own Peck. The two Pokémon parried, jabbed, and blocked each other, avoiding strikes as they tried to dish out their own attacks. Melissa and Artie tried to give more instructions, but Torchic and Smeargle were too engrossed in their beak-to-tail swordfight to listen.

“This is really cool!” Milo exclaimed. “I haven’t seen a swordfight this good since the Gallade Kingdom arc of Dr. Magnezone!”

“Who’s cleaning all this paint up exactly?” Zack asked worriedly, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting a mob of senior citizens to hurl dentures at them for making a mess of their pristine town.

Torchic and Smeargle broke apart to catch their breath. Blue splotches of paint covered their bodies.

Melissa tensed, her eyes flickering over the field as she thought of her next move. Then she smiled triumphantly.

Milo knew that look.

She always smiled like that when she was about to do something sneaky.

“Paint attack!” Melissa yelled.

Torchic used her feet to fling a glob of paint at Smeargle’s eyes, and the Painter Pokémon stumbled back in shock. It rubbed its face to get rid of the paint, but only succeeded in smearing it all over the place.

“Hey, no fair!” Artie protested, glaring at Melissa. “Get a grip, Smeargle!”

“You brought it into the field and gave me access to a good weapon,” Melissa smirked. “It’s totally fair. Now, let’s finish this off with Ember!”

Milo, Zack, and Diogee shot up in alarm. “Melissa, no!” Zack yelled. “The paint might be-“

BOOM!

“-combustible.”

And that was how Oldale Town set the world record for fastest evacuation in the event of wildfire.

“-arson, graffiti, endangerment, public nuisance, vandalism, waking me up from my afternoon nap, and coercement via Deerling eyes for the girl,” Oldale Elliot had been rattling off various charges for the three teenagers in the holding cell for twenty minutes.

Mostly it was leveled at Milo and Melissa. Zack was being treated on a guilt-by-association basis.

Artie and Smeargle had made a hasty retreat when Oldale Elliot showed up. Smeargle’s fur had been slightly singed, but it was otherwise fine.

Oldale’s residents had been evacuated to either Littleroot or Petalburg until it was safe to return, and the local firefighters had contained the wildfire so quickly that it wasn’t necessary to call in the Mt. Chimney Fire Department for help.

Which was probably a good thing, since Melissa wasn’t keen on seeing her dad after their last argument.

Milo’s head was still spinning from the fact that they’d entered Petalburg in the back of a bona fide 2001 Volcarona brand fire truck. Only ten of those had ever been made, equipped with five different ladders and a bell that sounded like a volcanic eruption.

Okay, so Oldale Elliot had insisted on escorting them to the holding cell in Petalburg City and the staring and muttered complaints about the younger generation had been more than a little awkward but it was a 2001 Volcarona! How could he not be excited?

“Not even a week and we’ve already been arrested,” Zack sighed. He twirled Treecko’s Poké Ball in his hand. “Seriously, you’re supposed to confiscate someone’s Pokémon before arresting them.”

“We were evacuating the premises under the watchful eye of an escort,” Melissa replied, reclining on the rough wooden board that was supposed to pass for a bed. “We weren’t arrested.”

“Explain the holding cell then.”

“Relax. There’s no trial date,” Melissa smirked. “Yet.”

Zack glared at her. “You’re a natural at reassurance.”

“Thanks! I try,” Melissa said.

Unhappy with the current arrangements, Diogee had taken to pacing and scratching the walls with his claws. “Don’t worry. We’ll be out before you know it,” Milo soothed, trying to keep Diogee from wearing down his claws too much.

The wall behind him crumbled to pieces just as a much younger Elliot opened the door. A backwards baseball cap was perched on his head. “So these are the ones who caused the fire in your town, Gramps?” his voice cracked on the last syllable, and he rubbed his throat in embarrassment.

“Pay attention,” Oldale Elliot barked, thrusting his cane in Milo’s direction. “His sunny disposition is a façade to hide his unsafe delinquent ways.”

Then he pointed the cane at Melissa and Zack. “And these are whippersnappers Murphy has recruited into his crusade of destruction.”

“Heh, you said whippersnapper,” Milo giggled into his hand.

“No respect,” Oldale Elliot grumbled.

Before he could complain any further, footsteps echoed down the hall. “Please excuse my interruption, gentlemen,” a smooth, pleasant voice rang out.

A man in a black and red business suit stepped into the cell. His brilliant white smile didn’t falter even as Oldale Elliot muttered an insult under his breath while everyone else was just too confused to speak. Two Skitty perched on his shoulder, occasionally rubbing their faces against the man’s neck.

“Hello, children,” he greeted. He rubbed the Skitty under their chins, causing them to melt into a purring mess. “I’ve been looking for some fresh challengers lately, and you seem to fit the bill.”

When nobody replied, the man glanced over to Diogee. “Ah, pardon my manners. My name is Bob Block, but please just call me Bob. Mr. Block is my descendant. And these are two of my lovely Skitty, Kiki and Sophie. They insisted on coming along.”

Kiki and Sophie mewed as Diogee sniffed them curiously.

“I think my dad mentioned you at some point,” Melissa recalled. “Mostly to complain about your Skitty beating his highly trained Fire-types at the Gym Leader Annual Picnic.”

Bob chuckled. “You must be Richard’s daughter. Your dad’s got a bit of a competitive streak. His Torkoal is tough, but what can he expect it to do in an agility course?”

Oldale Elliot rapped his cane against the ground to get Bob’s attention. “And this is the problem with your generation! Always makin’ excuses for the youngins.”

“Gramps, watch it! You can’t talk to a gym leader like that!” Petalburg Elliot hissed.

“I’m old and I’ll talk to him however I want! It’s a perk!” Oldale Elliot retorted.

As they argued over basic decency, Bob circled Diogee curiously. Diogee kept his eyes trained on him. Satisfied, Bob gave a small hum and nodded.

“I also have a keen interest in creatures associated with the supernatural,” Bob said. “According to Pokélantis legends, Absol were messengers of Umbra, the god of darkness, and their appearance was a forewarning to tsunamis and hurricanes. Whereas in more recent history, a man had the idea to harness Absol’s power to predict natural disasters in order to save the lives of people and Pokémon alike. I find the duality rather fascinating.”

At the mention of his ancestor, Milo nodded eagerly. “That was Sheriff Murphy! His Absol was named Cassandra and together they traveled all around Hoenn to show people that Absol were just misunderstood and wanted to help humanity! He was so awesome!”

Bob laughed at Milo’s enthusiasm. “A Murphy, huh? Interesting. How would you like to come by my gym? I’ve got a challenge for you, but it would be much easier to explain on my turf instead of this, ah…quaint, rustic room.”

He took a step back to avoid the leaky ceiling.

Oldale Elliot grimaced. “You can’t just release them like that! You have no authority!”

“Tell me, good sir. Do you have jurisdiction in Petalburg?” Bob asked, stroking Kiki’s head as he waited for Oldale Elliot to come up with a response.

“No, not really…” Oldale Elliot grumbled.

“Do you have any objections?” Bob turned to Petalburg Elliot, who shook his head.

“Back in my day, gym leaders actually yielded to police,” Oldale Elliot muttered, shaking his cane threateningly at Milo as they exited the jailhouse.

When Milo thought of Pokémon gyms, usually a battlefield and several rows of seats for an audience came to mind. He didn’t expect plush carpets, an assortment of colorful toys, and at least ten climbing trees that were all currently occupied by Skitty.

The entire room was a Skitty’s paradise.

“Mind their tails, please,” Bob called as the group carefully waded through the sea of Skitty.

Bob brought them into a dining area, separated from the rest of the room by a glass wall. He gently nudged three Skitty away from the door.

“I like to issue a pre-battle challenge for trainers who want my badge,” Bob explained as he set a tray of cheese and crackers in front of the group. They tore into the snack immediately. Milo piled a little of everything onto a small plate, then placed it on the floor for Diogee. “Are all of you planning to battle me?”

Melissa shook her head. “Just Milo. So what’s the challenge?”

A Skitty jumped into Bob’s lap, and he stroked it absentmindedly. The action reminded Milo heavily of the evil Silverfinger’s iconic Persian petting in Clauncherhunter IV: Get a Pincer Grip.

“Simple. A game of hide and seek with all my Skitty. They hide all over Petalburg, you try to find them. They won’t venture beyond city limits, don’t worry,” Bob replied. “If you manage to find them all, you may challenge me without any badges. I require that you obtain one badge for each Skitty you don’t find. If you miss more than eight Skitty, you can retake the challenge in a week. How does that sound?”

“Great!” Milo exclaimed. “So am I allowed help for this?”

Bob nodded. “You may enlist your friends’ help. I would prefer that you not battle my Skitty unless a situation warrants it.”

“We’re in. I’ve got siblings so I’m a master hide and seeker,” Zack boasted.

“At hiding or seeking?” Melissa asked.

Zack slumped. “Mostly hiding. Lee and Lance tend to cheat.”

Bob blew a whistle, and every Skitty filed out of the play area. The Skitty on his lap pushed the door open with its nose and followed them into the open air. He gave a lazy grin.

“You have until sunset. Good luck!”

The first ten Skitty were all hanging out by a pond next to the gym, offering no protest when Diogee herded them back into the play area. They’d clearly hung around the gym on purpose so they could get to the most coveted toys first.

“I see another one!” Milo shouted, pointing at a Skitty who somehow made her way up to the awning of a small grocery store. Covering his head with a fireman helmet as a precaution, he climbed a stepladder until he was level with the Skitty. He was close enough to read the tag on her lavender collar.

“Aw, so you’re Kit!” Milo cooed. “My name’s Milo. Hi. I’m just gonna get you down, okay?”

Kit tilted her head, mewing in confusion.

“I’m holding the ladder!” Zack yelled from below. “Wait, sir, don’t walk under…ugh, that guy’s gonna be having some bad luck.”

As Milo reached for Kit again, the sound of metal crashing against each other followed by someone’s yowl filled the air. Kit startled, jumping onto Milo’s head in fright and knocking his fireman helmet back. Milo slowly descended, gripping the sides of the ladder tightly since his vision was obscured by pink and cream fur.

Zack grimaced at the sight of two paramedics helping a man onto a gurney. “I told him not to walk under the stepladder.”

Melissa had been more interested in her Pokédex than her surroundings. “The Pokédex says Skitty are attracted to moving objects. We can save time if we get them to come to us. Milo, you got any craft supplies in your bag?”

Fifteen minutes later, Zack was completely slathered in a rainbow yarn and feather monstrosity. Milo and Diogee collapsed in laughter, and Melissa snapped photos of a very disgruntled Zack. Her camera hand was shaky due to her giggling.

“I need new traveling partners,” Zack complained to Kit, who mewed happily as she batted the ends of the yarn back and forth.

“Sorry, Zack,” Melissa snickered. “But you drew the short straw. Literally.”

She flashed the straws they’d used to decide who was wearing the Skitty Attractor Suit.

“It’s popular with our focus group too,” Milo added, teasing Kit with the end of a string.

“C’mon, Skitty Man,” Melissa grinned. “Let’s see how popular you are.”

“Don’t call me that,” Zack grumbled, but he allowed Milo and Melissa to parade him around.

As they wandered through town, Skitty popped out from drainage pipes, mailboxes, flowerbeds, and places Milo didn’t know Skitty could fit inside. Melissa extracted another Skitty from a discarded tissue box, setting her in front of a loose string.

Milo did a quick headcount, which was made more difficult by the Skitty’s constant shifting.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two…. Zack, could you hold still?” Milo asked. “Now I lost count.”

Slightly dazed from being knocked over, Zack sighed heavily. “Yes, Milo. Cause it’s completely possible to remain still when covered in yarn, feathers, and Skitty.”

“Okay, thanks,” Milo said. He started another headcount while Zack tried to keep Skitty away from his face.

“Alright, I’ve got thirty-seven,” Melissa announced. “We’ll take the long way back, see if there’s anyone we missed and-“ she paused when a harsh howl pierced the air. Melissa scrambled away from the alley. “What was that?”

Thankfully, the Skitty were too preoccupied with Zack’s outfit to care.

“Diogee, you stay and guard Zack and the Skitty,” Milo ordered. Diogee whined, his red eyes pleading. Milo ruffled the top of his head. “You have an important job too. Make sure none of the Skitty run off so we can challenge Bob soon.”

At the prospect of a tough battle, Diogee perked up.

“Torchic, help us out!” Melissa said, forgoing the dramatic throw and settling for a simple release. When the red light faded, Torchic got into a battle stance.

Milo shone a flashlight behind a dumpster, but didn’t see anything except for a torn plastic lid.

A stack of cardboard boxes rattled next to a wall, a Skitty’s mews intermingling with the growls of a dark gray canine.

“A Poochyena,” Melissa breathed, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve always wanted one, but they don’t live around Lavaridge.”

“Well, now’s your chance to catch one,” Milo suggested. “I’ll focus on getting the Skitty away.”

Melissa smiled. “Thanks. Torchic, Ember on Poochyena!”

Torchic sprung into action, several fiery cinders raining down around Poochyena. Poochyena’s attention shifted to Torchic, allowing Milo to grab Skitty from the top of the stack.

“Gotcha,” Milo murmured, calming Skitty with several pats to the head.

Poochyena tackled Torchic into a garbage can, holding the squirming Fire-type down with his front paws. Then he revealed sharp fangs that crackled with electricity.

“I wasn’t expecting you to know Thunder Fang,” Melissa muttered.

As Poochyena and Torchic struggled against the garbage cans, something purple and hand-shaped drooped over the opening.

“That’s it! Grab the glove and shove it in Poochyena’s face!” Melissa yelled.

In one smooth motion, Torchic grabbed the glove with her beak and yanked hard enough to dislodge it from the rest of the garbage. The end fell into Poochyena’s open mouth, startling him enough to let Torchic go. Thunder Fang harmlessly discharged into the glove.

“Rubber insulates against electricity,” Melissa said.

“Murphy’s Law has its uses as an educational tool,” Milo grinned.

“Would you call my dad and tell him that?” Melissa called over her shoulder. “Torchic, finish with Scratch!”

Torchic raked her feet against Poochyena’s side, pushing him back. Poochyena whined, ears flat against his head as he recovered.

“Poké Ball, go!” Melissa cried, trying out a two-handed toss that was more characteristic of someone from Dragonite Ball Z than a Pokémon trainer. The Poké Ball dropped from her hands and rolled away uselessly.  

Milo retrieved the ball while Melissa tossed the second one, which also failed.

Torchic and Poochyena exchanged glances as the pile of Poké Balls built up around Melissa.

After the tenth failed throw, Poochyena nosed a ball open and allowed himself to be sucked in. The ball snapped shut, wiggled three times, and emitted the small noise that marked a successful capture.

“One of these days I’m gonna throw one right,” Melissa muttered.

“How did you find your pre-battle challenge? Interesting? Fun?” Bob asked once all the Skitty were brought back into the play area.

“Both,” Milo said. “Melissa caught a Poochyena.”

“Poochyena are said to be loyal partners,” Bob noted. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a Skitty person.” He laughed at his own joke. “Anyway, you missed four of my darlings. Don’t worry about them, they’re all trained to come inside at sundown. Please feel free to come back when you have at least four badges.”

“Good,” Zack growled as he shrugged off the Skitty Attractor Device. “This thing was itchy.”

“An interesting feat of ingenuity though,” Bob said.

Zack scowled. “That’s because you weren’t the one wearing it.”

“Alright, we did your challenge,” Melissa said. “Any idea where we’re heading now?”

“Rustboro City,” Bob replied. “Go through Petalburg Woods and you’ll be there in no time. It’s also home to the Pokémon School and the Mahlson Corporation.”

“I swear I’ve heard that name somewhere before,” Zack said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to remember.

“Orton Mahlson is the creator and star of Dr. Magnezone, in addition to being the Hoenn champion,” Milo supplied. “His dad is the CEO of Mahlson Corp, which originally started as a zoning commission and grew into the lead research facility we know it as today!”

“Forgive him, he’s from Johto,” Melissa clarified for Bob.

Bob chuckled. “No problem. Now, why don’t you head for the Pokémon Center and rest up? Petalburg Woods has a very…distinct layout and you’ll need your energy.”

Milo, Melissa, and Zack gathered their belongings and turned to leave.

“We’ll be back once I get four badges!” Milo waved at Bob and Skitty, forcing Melissa to pull him away from the path of an oncoming van. “So, he’s pretty cool!”

“Don’t praise him in front of me, Milo,” Melissa warned. “Poochyena are loyal partners and that’s a fact, not a rumor.”

AN: Hoo boy so this chapter got away from me. Hope you guys liked it!

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Always Happy

Framed by a dense forest surrounding it, a beautiful old house stood at the end of a long dirt road. Secluded, in the middle of nowhere in this lush rural countryside.

Crickets chirped and cicadas buzzed in the summer heat. Bruce wiped some sweat off of his forehead and shot Ria a glance. With fatigue in her eyes but refusing to show it in her gait, she returned the look and they then both surveyed the house. It was one of those old colonial era buildings but had been kept in good shape, with a refurbished wood facade and a coat of stark white paint to make the place truly shine on this sunny day. Whoever was responsible for the gardening work on the surrounding hedges and trees was an artist, having created an idyllic and inviting atmosphere that would have lured anybody in.

The backpacking couple walked what they figured would be the final mile of the day as they approached the house. They were dressed in T-shirts, sturdy cargo shorts, hiking boots, and baseball caps. Their colors did not match, but they might as well have.

“I expected way worse,” Bruce said with an approving nod.

Ria’s giggle in response reflected how their nervousness flew away in that instant. Their phone reception was impeccable here, but they had been unable to find any motels or hotels posted online for this tiny backwater town. After asking around, though, they had learned of Miss Lister’s place, who offered bed and breakfast services. They could not even find her house on a map, they had followed directions to get there.

On the way over, they had joked about how it would be some ramshackle hillbilly’s serial killer house like in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, or a trailer park filled with mutants, or some other absurd scenario straight out of horror flicks. Lister’s house was the exact opposite of those expectations and that proved to be refreshing in its own right because some part of the couple had truly expected to encounter something awful at the end of the road.

On the front porch, Ria looked around for a doorbell and found no button. She turned to Bruce who was trying to look through a window inside but failed to see much between the red velvet curtains. Ria asked, “Should we knock?”

Bruce shrugged and raised his hand to rap at the front door.

Before his knuckles hit any wood, the door swung open and a woman in her mid-twenties who was a head shorter than either of the couple looked up at them all wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. She was dressed in a simple pink blouse, jean shorts, and white tennis shoes. Just about in the time they had to take in her appearance, she snapped out of it and gave the two guests a wide, toothy smile. Her pearly whites were straight and perfect.

“Hi,” she said with a cheery ring to the word.

Ria cleared her throat and said, “Uh, Miss Lister?”

“Missy’s my name, honey,” Missy Lister said in the same drawl that was common in these parts, followed by a shrill giggle, her eyes still wide as saucers as she looked the two up and down.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard your name from the other people in town, I thought it was Miss Lister, not Missy,” Ria said, turning redder in the face by the second. She gave Missy a sheepish grin.

“No, don’t you worry ‘bout it, hon’,” Missy replied as she pushed the door farther open. She waved her hand for them to come inside, and she demonstratively looked that way with her big blue eyes, inviting the couple to follow her gaze.

The interior of the house was furnished completely in a pleasant contrast of dark wood with brass ornaments and neat white doilies strategically placed all about. Numerous house plants in different shapes and colors lined the corridor and flanked the doorways to other rooms. Cool air-conditioned wind seemed to flow out from the inside, instilling a sense of yearning in the two arrivals to enter and find refuge from a sweltering day of hiking.

Ria and Bruce exchanged another glance with each other. Excited smiles lit up on both their faces, and they followed Missy inside the house. She softly closed the door behind them and started giving them a tour of the ground floor, complete with a comfortable den and a roomy kitchen. Her accent and the lovely decorations paired up to give a delightful albeit quirky first impression.

In front of one of the doors, Missy paused and stared at it for a few seconds before she looked back at the two with a wide smile.

“Gimme a moment, you two. This here’s the cellar, and I need to check if my laundry’s done yet,” she told them with another ear-to-ear smile.

Before they could respond, she had already shut the cellar door behind her and disappeared down the dark stairs, with soft footsteps gaining distance.

“She reminds me of someone,” Ria said to Bruce in a hushed murmur.

Bruce chuckled and responded in the same fashion, “Yeah, that girl from the overly-attached girlfriend meme?”

Ria covered her mouth with her palm to stifle a giggle, muffling the words she added, “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Just before they could ponder that any further, the cellar door opened and Missy returned, closing the door behind her again.

“Nope, still going. Pardon me for that interruption. Wanna see the garden? I’m told it’s magical,” Missy said, her words cascading out without pause, like a waterfall.

“After you,” Bruce said with an abrupt chuckle.

Missy walked ahead to lead the way, and the couple exchanged glances again, furrowing their brows almost simultaneously.

Stepping outside into the backyard indeed looked and felt like they had entered another world. The place looked like a small enchanted meadow surrounded by weeping willows and other large trees that cast a welcoming shade from the summer sun. Separated by arrangements of fist-sized rocks, perfectly kept patches of colorful flowers in bloom encircled the field and sparkled in single rays of light. A beautiful bench made of sand-colored wood and wrought black iron stood in the shade of the largest willow.

Bruce stifled a relieved groan as he unburdened himself from the weight of his heavy backpack and set it down on the backyard porch before walking out. Ria followed suit and they moved up to where Missy stood in the garden.

The grass and soil cushioned every step underfoot like the softest mattress imaginable. The mouths of both guests were agape as they turned and looked around while standing in the middle of this garden.

“This is amazing,” Ria said. Turning around to look at Missy, she asked, “Do you do all the garden work here? It’s amazing.”

Missy beamed and had an odd glint in her eyes.

“Yes, I do indeed. Well, I get some help from neighbors and even some of the guests every now and then, kind of a past-time with friends and all that, you know, we get together, do some gardening for fun, have iced tea, the works,” Missy rattled on. Turning away from her guests and surveying the garden herself, she continued, with a sense of marvel in her own voice, “I usually plant new flowers for each guest that stays here for a while.”

Bruce gently elbowed Ria in her side, and she followed his eyes before she could express her discomfort. While Missy monologued, the couple stared at some statues between the trees, overgrown by vines and other vegetation.

“You know, something based on the guests, something that reminds me of them,” Missy said, not noticing where the two were looking.

The statues looked infinitely old, and utterly wrong, in a way that made both of their stomachs knot. One of the statues had tentacles where a mouth should be, and a non-human, angular head with eerie, slit-like eyes. Another looked like a winged and bulbous-headed eyeless something, with elongated claws clutching a pole covered in alien-looking symbols that neither of them could decipher. There were more, but Missy distracted them from getting a closer look as she audibly turned around.

“You have a red cap, and you have a blue cap, so maybe I’ll get a rose and violet to represent you two lovebirds,” Missy said while giving them another wide, toothy smile. “C'mon, lemme show you your rooms, you’ll love ‘em so much you won’t wanna leave!”

She walked past them with her usual energy. Bruce and Ria’s next set of exchanged looks carried a hint of worry in them. Just before they arrived on the porch behind Missy, the small woman heaved both of their backpacks off the wooden floorboards and onto each of her own shoulders as if they weighed nothing.

“Lemme get that for you, you two look exhausted,” Missy said with a giggle.

Before they could respond to her, she barged back inside. Bruce cleared his throat but dared not speak up. Ria grabbed his hand. He squeezed back tighter than she did.

They followed the thumping footsteps of Missy guiding them upstairs to the bedrooms. She showed them around the upper floor as any tour guide would, and it was all just as flawless and picture-perfect as the rest of the house. Everything Missy said during the tour was as innocent and upbeat as ever. But the grip of the couple holding hands remained as tight as a vice all the while.

In one of the spacious guest rooms, Bruce finally broke the ice by clearing his throat again and idly asking, “I take it this is a really safe town, huh? Like, do you have anything beyond a sheriff out here? It’s really secluded, I bet nobody can—”

Ria squeezed his hand so tight that it felt like a bone might pop out. Bruce flinched and forced a smile.

“I mean, it is so quiet out here, I bet I could sleep like a baby. It’s, uh, lovely. So, uh, do you get, uh,” Bruce stammered. Ria’s grip did not loosen, and the pain caused him to almost wheeze out the next words, “Do you get a lot of guests this time of year?”

Missy slowly turned and stared blankly at the air between them. A semblance of her wide smile remained on her face, though it faded. Just when an uncomfortably long moment of silence had passed and Ria swallowed, Missy snapped out of her trance and gave them her usual toothy smile.

She blurted out, “Under the sky of Talithoth, the Zulovol are always happy and without sorrow!”

Ria and Bruce gave each other and Missy some awkward nods and the worst impressions of a smile, for they could muster no better.

“Ah, right,” Ria said with a cracking voice.

“This is your room, by the way,” Missy said, the facade of her smiling face never breaking, always perfect, like the exterior of the house. “You want me to draw you a bath? It’d be great on a hot day like this. Lemme draw you a nice bath,” she said without stopping to inhale.

Missy set the two backpacks down on the floor with a loud thud each and stormed past the two. The second she had turned the corner outside the room’s doorway, the couple grabbed their bags with the speed of people close to panicking and stepped back out into the hallway.

Missy had disappeared into the white-tiled room at the end of the hallway. The door to the bathroom was ajar. Sounds of sloshing water carried to the two as they stood there, captivated with a mixture of curiosity and fear. When they heard something that they would later describe as the sound of tearing flesh, fear took over. They fled from Missy’s house. Bruce could have sworn that someone or something chased them to the front door but neither of them dared to look back as they ran away, trailing back down the dirt road.

They told the story of this bed and breakfast to some friends even though they hardly believed it themselves. A year later, they heard from those friends again.

Their friends said this house did not exist.

—Submitted by Wratts