Kirsten has held a lifelong fascination with the weird, unseen corners of the universe. She wrote this story in between downing cups of coffee and reading way too many books at one time. She is currently pursuing her Bachelors in Library and Information Sciences. Kirsten lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee with her kiddos, 3 cats and 10 backyard chickens. Her first published story will be featured in the horror anthology Final Passenger from Above The Rain Collective.
*You can follow her on any social media platform with the handle:
@TheSpineOfMotherhood
#CANDYHEARTS
by
Kirsten Noelle Craig
Things were not going well for Teddy.
Valentine’s Day was her favorite holiday, and she had spent weeks pouring over Pinterest boards to curate the perfect, most aesthetically pleasing celebration. So far, nothing has gone the way it was supposed to. Her cake maker misspelled her name (really, how hard is Theodora?), and rather than waste time trying to get it fixed, she decided to ride it out. The custom-made gift she had purchased online was stuck in shipping purgatory somewhere in Texas. It wouldn’t arrive until days after Valentine’s. To top it all off, the caterer she had hired was running late.
Thirty minutes before her girlfriend Esme was supposed to arrive at her apartment, Teddy paced a worried circle around the dining room. Her head throbbed dully, and she had to keep reminding herself to unclench her jaw. She thumbed down on her phone screen to refresh the Instagram feed. Red, pink, and white-themed posts rushed to the top of the phone. Everyone was well into their holiday celebrations already. Teddy thought about how she didn’t even have the food set up to snap a photo of. She pushed the desperation aside and settled for a selfie of herself in her rainbow heart print blouse. As soon as her photo was uploaded, the doorbell rang.
Excitement flooded her body as she threw open the front door. Relief coursed its way through her mind, knowing one of her current problems was under control, and the rest would follow suit. No Esme stood in the doorway, though, and Teddy deflated slightly. It was a package placed carefully on her doormat. She scooped it up and slammed the door with a huff. “Hmm...this is the gift I ordered. Thank God!” She tore into the box without hesitation, eager to have one thing go smoothly today.
The dark, crimson paper was folded snugly inside the box, and an unlikely earthy smell emanated from within. Teddy flinched instinctively. This couldn’t be her order. Indeed, a box full of custom-worded candy hearts would smell more like candy and less like dirt, right? She stretched her hand towards the violent colored paper as if it might prick her finger, thorns hidden behind colorful buds. Pulling the paper free, she was consoled by seeing an ornate glass candy dish displaying her unique Valentine’s treats. These beautifully crafted candy hearts would make up for the cake fiasco and the lateness of her dinner. She rushed the box to her table to put the candies in the center, where Esme was sure to see them first.
As she gently placed the dish down, the candies shifted, and something about the words painted on them caught her eye. “Oh no,” she muttered, “No no no. Please don’t let them be messed up, too.” She jerked off the top of the dish and plucked a candy heart from it gingerly. It came out of the dish upside down, so Teddy used her forefinger to flip it right side up. Her eyes took in the word painted in deep obsidian on the face of the candy heart, but her mind was slow at making sense of it. “DIE,” it read in grim capital letters. Teddy heard herself issue a pained squeak, and she clutched the heart so hard in her palm that it crumbled chalkily.
Teddy was losing control.
She stumbled wildly towards the dining room table and snatched up the dish. Without caring for the delicate glass, she tipped the dish and dumped out its colorful contents. Candy hearts flew everywhere, but Teddy didn’t notice. She grabbed at hearts randomly and examined them quickly before dropping them back to the floor. Each one read “DIE” in sickly black paint—every single one. Teddy pulled at her hair and shrieked. This wasn’t right. None of this was okay. She had worked hard to make this a picture-perfect evening with her beloved. She was not going to let it fail so horribly.
She scrambled for her cell phone, forgotten on the couch, and opened her emails. The company she ordered the candy hearts from would have to fix this quickly. It had to happen. She finally located the email with her order information and scanned it rapidly. Teddy clicked the “Order Tracking” link and bit her lip furiously while the page loaded. She bit into her flesh too hard and tasted the metallic tang of blood fill her mouth. This didn’t even phase her. Her focus was on righting this wrong done to her. The page loaded fully, and Teddy blinked at the tracking information displayed. “Delivery in route. Expected arrival by 8 pm.”
“If my package hasn’t been delivered, then what the hell is that?!” she demanded aloud. Pinpricks of unease danced across her arms and moved up to her neck. This had to be a wrong delivery by the postal worker, or someone playing a callous joke on Teddy. Another knock came at the door before she could dial the company’s customer service number. She groaned loudly, realizing it had to be Esme at the door. She contemplated just sending her home and feigning sickness. There was no way she wanted Esme to witness her like this.
Teddy swung open the door. A flash of metal pulled her eyes to the side of the figure standing in her doorway, and she opened her mouth to demand to know what they wanted. Before the words could tumble out, she felt a sharp burning sensation in her belly. She glanced down and was met with a torrent of blood cascading down her torso and legs. She felt her strength disappear and dropped to the ground, banging her head against the potted plant on the stoop. Turning her head weakly to the left, she studied the mess of candy hearts littering her dining room floor. “That would make such a pretty picture,” she thought as her eyelids fluttered closed for the last time.