99 Curses

Kara’s Vale is a spooky place that lends itself well to the tales of witches and black magic that founded it. But nobody ever expected anything like this.

Ted, the police sergeant, has two problems. One of them is a drinking problem. The other is the gruesome massacre of nine people at a party in the town hall. There’s blood on the walls, guts on the floor and a head swinging from the chandelier. These murders make no sense. And none of the surviving witnesses saw an attacker. Ted believes this is the work of supernatural forces.

The witch, on the other hand, has ninety problems: the ninety remaining residents of Kara’s Vale. She’s got an impossible amount of power, a strong stomach and a vivid imagination, and she’s using all three to systematically tear Kara’s Vale apart. She watches with glee as the police scratch their heads and the bodies pile up. She never wanted any of this. At least, not at first. Now, she wants it all. And nothing is going to stand in her way.

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4. Blood and Buttercups

SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT. WHY THE HELL WAS THE WHOLE WORLD GOING TO FUCKING SHIT AROUND HIM AND THIS STUPID SHITTY FUCKING TOWN! He was getting too sober for this shit... and probably too old, yeah definitely too old. Shit, how was he going to explain this to the Krueger family. DOUBLE SHIT; how was he going to explain this to the journalists? TRIPLE FUCKING SHIT; OH MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED? HE JUST FUCKING MELTED.

He needed to talk to Mrs Krueger. NOW. But first, he needed something to make her more cooperative, and as his asshole of a father had once said, “The fastest way to a woman’s heart is with flowers, son. That, and booze, Lots of booze. You got any booze on ya son?”

So here he was, in the middle of the towns largest florist’s, wondering what the FUCK had happened to his life. He laid the roses on the cluttered counter.

“How much for these, please?” he mumbled, the beginnings of a new headache brewing behind his eyes.

“19 pounds 99, just as it says on the label.”

He was scrounging around in his pockets for his credit card when his phone buzzed into life.

“What is it?” he mumbled into his outdated phone. “I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Just giving you the heads up, boss; a specialist is on his way from Scotland yard. They’re kicking you off the case.”

“WHAT! WHAT FUCKING SPECIALIST? ANSWER ME, GODDAMNIT, OR I SWEAR TO GOD THEY’LL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY AFTER I AM DONE WITH YOU!”

Ted was alerted to her presence by the snickering emanating from behind him. Janet. FUCKING TYPICAL OF ALL THE FUCKING PLACES FOR THE LOCAL GOSSIPER TO BE, SHE JUST HAD TO BE FUCKING BEHIND HIM AS HE RECEIVED THE WORST NEWS OF HIS CAREER. Shit. This was bad. Word would be around town in a matter of minutes. She was already on her FUCKING PHONE. There was nothing he could do now; he just had to proceed as normal until this asshole from Scotland Yard took this shitfest for himself. The local florist, Sally, emerged from the back room and handed him the flowers. He paid her; there was no need, though. There was no point in him talking to Mrs Krueger; the so-called “specialist” would do that for him, now he was off the case. He needed a drink, and possibly a McDonalds. 

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