THE GAME HAS JUST BEGUN
The digital clock on the bedside table glowed
5:14 AM.
A harsh, shrill ring pierced the quiet morning air, jolting Joshua awake.
Beside him, Ruth stirred beneath the blankets as Joshua reached for the phone.
It was Susan.
Her voice trembled with devastation.
"Mom is dead."
Ruth watched her husband closely, expecting the inevitable collapse of grief. Instead, Joshua's face remained an unsettling mask of indifference.
He muttered a brief acknowledgment, hung up, and tossed the phone aside.
Then, without another word, he turned back to his laptop and continued working.
Ruth stared at him, a chilling knot forming in her stomach.
How could a man be so numb after hearing that his own mother had died?
Later that morning, around 8:20 AM, sunlight broke through the clouds, bringing a deceptive warmth to the house.
Their children, Jr. Joshua and Kelly, both 10 years old, rushed into the living room with bright, eager smiles.
School was finally out.
The holidays had begun.
And they had only one thing on their minds: the family vacation they had been begging for.
"Mom! Are we leaving today?" Kelly asked excitedly.
Ruth's smile faded as she crouched to their eye level.
"We aren't going on vacation, kids."
The twins' excitement immediately disappeared.
"Why?" Jr. asked.
Ruth took a breath.
"Your grandmother has passed away."
Silence.
"We have to go to the funeral instead. Go pack your bags. According to our tradition, we'll be staying there for a full month."
The children exchanged a disappointed glance before slowly heading toward their rooms.
At the funeral home, relatives had already gathered.
The atmosphere was thick with mourning, tension, and unspoken resentment. Under the weight of family tradition, everyone had settled in for the long month-long vigil to honor their matriarch.
But tensions were already beginning to snap.
Joshua's cousin, James, paced across the room like a caged animal. His face was flushed with anger, and his eyes repeatedly darted toward the empty doorway.
Joshua still wasn't there.
"If it were my mother," James said bitterly, raising his voice, "he wouldn't be dragging his feet like—"
"Shut up, James."
Susan's voice cut through the room like a blade.
James froze.
He swallowed the rest of his words.
But Susan's anger wasn't only directed at him.
Across the room, Jerry, Susan and Joshua's uncle and James' father, sat beside his wife, Delilah, dabbing at their dry eyes with lace handkerchiefs. They performed an elaborate display of grief, but everyone knew the truth.
They weren't mourning.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the will.
Waiting for the estate.
Waiting to see what they could take.
Susan couldn't stomach the hypocrisy any longer.
She marched toward them.
"How can you two sit there pretending to mourn when all you're thinking about is the inheritance?"
Jerry slowly looked up.
A cold smirk spread across his face.
"Relax, Susan."
He leaned back.
"It's her sister's money, not yours."
Susan stared at him in disbelief.
For several seconds, she couldn't find the words.
Then her face hardened.
Disgust boiling inside her, she turned around and stormed out of the room.
Miles away, Joshua finally buckled under the pressure from his family.
He packed the car and set off with Ruth and the twins.
The long journey to the funeral grounds began.
For several miles, nobody spoke.
The road stretched through dense woods, the trees standing like silent sentinels on either side of the highway.
Then—
THUD!
Something struck beneath the tires.
Ruth gasped.
Joshua slammed on the brakes.
Everyone looked back.
A black cat lay motionless in the middle of the road.
"Oh my God," Kelly whispered.
She stared through the window, horrified.
"We hit a cat."
Joshua looked at the animal.
"No time," he said coldly. "Let's keep moving."
Kelly turned toward him.
"We have to bury it, Dad. We can't just leave it."
Joshua sighed.
"We're already late."
Jr. swallowed nervously.
A cold sweat formed along his neck.
"Dad... will something bad happen because we didn't bury it?"
Ruth immediately turned toward him.
"Of course not, sweetheart."
Joshua scoffed.
"Come on, Jr. That only happens in horror movies."
"But Dad—"
"Please!" Kelly interrupted. "Just a quick burial."
She looked at her father with pleading eyes.
Joshua stared at her for a moment.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine."
They pulled over.
Together, the children dug a shallow hole beneath the damp soil. They carefully placed the cat inside and covered it with earth.
When they finished, Kelly wiped her dirty hands against her clothes.
She released a long, shaky breath.
"At least we did the right thing."
The twins climbed back into the car.
But neither of them spoke.
Something about the moment had left an invisible weight hanging over them.
Back at the family homestead, preparations were already underway.
The house was filled with relatives, servants, and mourners.
But beneath the mourning was another feeling.
Anticipation.
The eldest son was finally returning.
After twelve long years away.
Everyone was waiting for him.
But nobody knew what his return would bring.
Back on the lonely highway, the forest had grown strangely quiet.
The car was long gone.
The road was empty.
Then came a sound.
Scrape...
Silence.
Scrape...
The freshly disturbed earth began to move.
Tiny cracks appeared across the shallow grave.
The soil shifted.
Then—
A hand burst through the dirt.
The fingers clawed desperately toward the surface.
The buried cat suddenly heaved itself from the ground.
Its body began to convulse.
Bones cracked.
Fur disappeared.
Its limbs stretched unnaturally.
The creature's body twisted, expanded, and reshaped itself.
Within seconds, the cat was gone.
In its place stood a woman.
She slowly rose to her feet.
Her eyes were unnaturally round, fixed with a predatory stare.
A strange tattoo covered part of her skin.
It resembled a rose.
But the symbol was mirrored backward.
She lifted her head.
The whites of her eyes slowly began to bleed crimson red.
Her hair cascaded down her back, growing thicker and longer with every passing second.
Then came the sound of something cracking inside her mouth.
Two sharp, razor-like fangs pushed through her lips.
Her fingers elongated.
Curved talons emerged from her fingertips.
She looked toward the distant horizon.
Then she smiled.
A slow, wicked smile.
For a moment, she simply stood there, watching the road.
Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, she said:
"The game has just begun."
