The Tea Party
Madeline and Victoria enjoyed venturing by the river and acquainting themselves with its veins, which stretched out, winding deep into the woods. Mama was frightened of the woods, warning her girls of those wicked Lowells. The couple was never a part of the village, outsiders, called the elders. They weren’t god-fearing people, and turned into ghastly beasts for their sins.
“You don’t want to end up like Edie Thompson.” Mama would say as she cleaned the mud from their shoes after an adventure.
Every child knew the story of Edie; her father gave a cautionary sermon each year on the day she died. She wandered too far, lured by the Lowells with sweets and magic, and wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation. They sacrificed her soul to the devil and ate her. However, Madeline and Victoria laughed at the idea of monsters, teasing their mother that the Lowells should be afraid of them instead for they knew what really happened to the girl.
One sunny day, the girls strayed past their favorite honeysuckle bush. They skipped along a stream, singing between elms and stroking the long manes of willows.
“One for sorrow.” Victoria began, plucking a leaf off a branch. Being the oldest, she led the jaunt, and her sister followed gleefully no matter the direction.
Madeline giggled, picking up a stick and waving it like a sword, “Two for mirth!”
“Three for a funeral.”
“Four for birth!”
They dashed around the trees, their laughter filling the forest and notifying it of their presence.
“Five for heaven.” Victoria sang, flinging her leaf.
“Six for hell.” Madeline swung her saber defeating invisible enemies. She laughed heartily and stopped to catch her breath. It was all too fun, until she noticed that the wood was watching her. The cheerful trees were displaced by crooked old birches, white and ghostly. They swayed and creaked, whispering dreadful instructions to the young girl. Fearful of what they were telling her to do, she turned to find that she was alone.
“Vicky?” Madeline called, asking the forest to return her sister.
The world became dark, cold, and her bones warned her to turn back. Yet, she couldn’t leave. Not yet.
Suddenly, Victoria jumped out from behind a tree. “Seven for the devil, himself!” she snarled, causing Madeline to yelp and throw her sword.
“That’s not funny!”
“Hush, babies sing that one.” She laughed and ripping a leaf in half.
“But not here.” Madeline peered around and, for the first time, remembered her mother’s warnings. “We should turn back.” She whispered so the trees couldn’t hear.
But Victoria wasn’t aware of the trees. Her eyes were focused on the horizon, growing with wonder. “There’s a house in the distance! I can see the chimney and a great spire!” She grinned. “C’mon.”
And just like that Victoria was off, so Madeline had no choice but to follow, else be left alone in the wood. The girls ran, not skipped, until they came upon an imposing gothic structure. Skin of ivy-covered stone, eyes of tall stained-glass windows, mouth of a grand wooden door, the house stared at the girls curiously.
“Vicky.” Madeline stiffened. “We should leave.”
But Victoria eyed the structure, enthusiastically. “This is the Lowell house,” She said loud enough for the edifice to hear. “Do you think Edie’s in there?”
The girls stared with awe and horror. Madeline clutched Victoria’s dress as she took a step closer. The soil beneath crunched, and the front door creaked opened, beckoning them inside.
“I don’t want to.”
“Since when have you been afraid?” Victoria jeered.
Insulted and yearning to prove her bravery, Madeline gulped. They tiptoed up the creaky steps and peered into the darkness of the house’s heart.
There was absolutely nothing but darkness. Their eyes adjusted and in the distance of the hall, they could make out a faint glow. Madeline expected a waft of rotting flesh and copper. Instead it was tea and cake. Her body eased for a moment as she and Victoria locked eyes, smiles blossoming.
“Girls.” The house called. “Join us.”
The sisters, holding hands, entered carefully. The light grew brighter, the scent sweeter, and soon they came upon a parlor, decorated with lush velvet and lace. Pink frosted cakes and heart-shaped cookies lay across a fine white table. Seated at the head of the tea party were two figures: Mr. and Mrs. Lowell. They wore the most fashionable attire: frilled collars and puffed sleeves. Large jewels on their delicate hands, made for writing poetry not labor. However, their faces were most bizarre. Sharp fur, pointed teeth, their lifeless eyes were red like blood.
The girls froze in the doorway.
“Have a seat, dears! Do you take sugar in your tea? Cream?” Mrs. Lowell asked pleasantly, her voice surprisingly soft for her great snout.
Madeline and Victoria nodded politely, sat down, and thanked the woman when she handed them a porcelain cup. “Cake? I baked them this morning.” Without a response, each were given a slice. Staring at the delicate frosting, their eyes slowly drifted from the treats to the wolf-people before them. Mr. Lowell took a swig of tea, and offered his wife the cake in his human hand.
Mrs. Lowell ate her cake with pleasure, and dabbed her large teeth with a lace handkerchief “Aren’t you afraid, dears?” Mr. Lowell curiously asked, “Most are afraid of us.”
“They call us evil. No, just misunderstood!” Mrs. Lowell cried holding up a gold fork with a bit of cake.
Victoria smirked to her lap, fondling her dress. “Why would we be afraid of you?”
The Lowell’s beamed.
“You are no different from the rest of them: gentle souls in the violent world.” She told them.
“That is very kind.” Mrs. Lowell said. “There are not many who see through our appearances.”
Victoria’s gaze was fixed on their hosts, targeted, while Madeline shifted in her seat. She knew what she had to do
“We try to tell them we’re peaceful, but all they saw was teeth and death.” Mr. Lowell sighed, caressing his wife’s hand.
“Funny.” Victoria purred, pulling a small blade from her dress’s pocket. Papa gave it to her on her tenth birthday, for protection he said. “When they look at us, all they see is sweetness and giggles.”
“Never death.” Madeline concluded, pulling out her own gift.
The sisters stood and slowly surrounded the Lowells, who sat confused.
“Are you okay, girls?” Mrs. Lowell asked, her fur becoming sharp and raised. The girls locked eyes, and with a practiced motion, they raised their blades. The knives came down swiftly. Victoria and Madeline stabbed the Lowells in the jowls, in the eyes, blood splattering their fine clothing, the parlor, the tea party. The wolves were stunned and they whimpered their confusion to no avail. After countless stabbings, their bodies stopped wriggling, their eyes losing focus, and they fell limp. Victoria picked up an empty cup, and Madeline followed. They filled their teacups with the Lowell’s blood and gulped down the nectar, laughing at the lovely party. They finished the cakes, dipping the biscuits in the blood and sang their nursey rhyme.
When they were stuffed with laughter and blood, Madeline and Victoria promptly left. The sun was setting, engulfing the wood in golden flame. The sisters smiled and skipped through the trees to be home before dark. Mother would be so worried about them.