Taste Something Bitter

As the evening settled in, casting a warm glow across the cozy cafe, a woman of striking presence sat at a table near the window, cradling a cup of steaming coffee in her delicate hands. Her demeanor exuded an air of effortless elegance as she savored the rich aroma of the brew, a contented smile gracing her lips.

“It’s just a regular evening for some excellent coffee,” she remarked with a soft chuckle, her brown eyes sparkling with quiet amusement as she took another sip.

With a thoughtful glance around the cafe, she rose gracefully from her seat, the click of her heels echoing softly against the polished wooden floor. Moving with a practiced grace, she made her way behind the counter, her movements fluid and purposeful.

“Perhaps I should add more Richard to this. It appears to be a popular one so far,” she mused aloud, her voice carrying a melodic cadence that belied the chilling intent behind her words.

With a deft hand, she reached into the back fridge, retrieving a blood bag labeled “Richard Greenwood” with a casual nonchalance that masked the sinister nature of her actions. As she poured the crimson liquid into her coffee with practiced precision, her lips curved into a satisfied smile, her brown hair cascading halfway down her neck in a graceful cascade.

Standing at an impressive height of 5′8", she possessed an undeniable presence that commanded attention. Her brown eyes, sharp and penetrating, held a glint of calculated intelligence, betraying the depths of her inner turmoil.

Despite her outward charm, there was an unmistakable sense of danger lurking beneath the surface—a darkness hidden behind her alluring facade. Known simply as Ms. Ashley, she was a figure shrouded in mystery, her enigmatic persona captivating those who crossed her path.

Clad in formal attire befitting her refined tastes, she exuded an aura of sophistication and poise, her impeccable sense of style a testament to her meticulous attention to detail. Her lips, painted in a bold shade of red, added a touch of allure to her already captivating presence. Beneath the facade of elegance and grace, there lurked a chilling truth—a truth that only those who dared to look beyond the surface could uncover. For Ms. Ashley was not merely a woman of sophistication and charm; she was a sociopath, a predator cloaked in the guise of civility, her every move calculated with precision and cunning.

As she returned to her seat, her gaze lingered on the pages of a novel, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. For in the world of fiction, she found solace and fascination, drawing inspiration from the tales of her potential victims, her mind already spinning with plans for her next macabre masterpiece.

As Ms. Ashley pondered her plans for the day, her thoughts drifted to the bookstore, a sanctuary of words and stories that beckoned to her soul. But before she could delve deeper into her musings, the chime of the door interrupted her thoughts, signaling the arrival of one of her regulars, Sammy Carpenter.

Surprised to see him at an unexpected hour, Ms. Ashley greeted him with a quizzical expression.

“Mr. Carpenter? Why are you here today? It’s 3:30 p.m. I thought you were going to Wisconsin?” she inquired, curiosity etched on her features.

Sam explained his change of plans, citing the impending downpour as his reason for seeking refuge in her café. As he settled at a table near the fireplace, Ms. Ashley observed the ambiance of her establishment. The café’s interior was a harmonious blend of grassy green and light yellow, evoking a sense of warmth and comfort. Dark wood booths adorned with cushions resembling vibrant yellow flowers exuded an inviting charm, while overhead lights cast a radiant glow reminiscent of a celestial chandelier.

As Ms. Ashley prepared to depart for the bookstore, Sam interjected with a light chuckle,

“Looks like Mother Nature had other plans for me today, Ms. Ashley. Guess I’ll have to settle for some of your delightful coffee instead of a scenic drive.”

Ms. Ashley smiled warmly at Sam’s remark, appreciating his good-natured demeanor. “Well, I’m glad you decided to seek shelter here, Mr. Carpenter. Let me know if there’s anything I can get you to make your wait more enjoyable.”

Sam nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, Ms. Ashley. I’ll just take a cup of your finest brew and maybe a slice of that mouth watering lemon pound cake you make. Rainy days like these call for a little indulgence, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Ms. Ashley replied with a nod. “I’ll have that brought out to you right away. Enjoy your stay, and hopefully, the rain will pass soon.”

With a grateful smile, Sam settled back in his seat, content to wait out the storm in the cozy confines of Ms. Ashley’s café.

Retrieving her raincoat and umbrella, she bid him farewell with a smile, stepping out into the rain-soaked streets.

Outside, she was greeted by the neon sign proudly displaying her café’s name, “Taste Something Bitter.” Despite the brightness of the sign, Ms. Ashley’s expression turned somber as she confronted the reality of the rainy day. The cacophony of car engines, the squelching of mud underfoot, and the earthy scent of wet grass assaulted her senses, casting a pall over her mood.

“I truly hate rain,” she murmured, her voice tinged with disdain.

Gazing at her reflection in a puddle, she was struck by the starkness of her own visage—soulless eyes and a twisted expression that mirrored her inner turmoil. Quickly composing herself, she adjusted her features into a forced smile, applying maroon-colored lipstick to mask her true emotions.

“Oh dear, I nearly walked to the bookstore with that bitter expression on. I need to be more careful these days; those pigs for cops are getting smart,” she mused, the façade of cheerfulness concealing a deeper, darker truth lurking beneath the surface.

She soon saw a logo that said, “Replace, Borrow, Sell, & Buy,” also known as RBS&B.

“I can’t believe I got here so much quicker than usual. Oh my, I must have been so distracted while I was walking.” She ignorantly thought of placing her hand on her rosy right cheek.

Of course, she knew why, but a sheep sometimes forgets it’s actually a wolf.

As Ms. Ashley stepped into the cozy ambiance of the bookstore, her mind wandered amidst the comforting scent of aged paper and the soft crackle of the fireplace. She observed the wooden cabin theme, the rich tones of chestnut-redwood embracing every corner, reminiscent of a refuge from the storm raging outside. Jenny Keallings, the youthful owner of the establishment, greeted her with a warmth that belied her age, her hair a vibrant canvas of ever-changing hues framing a face that seemed untouched by the passage of time.

“Hello, Ms. Ashley; I apologize for having to walk here in the rain,” Jenny offered, her tone carrying a hint of concern.

“It’s fine; it’s not like you caused it to rain,” Ms. Ashley chuckled lightly, closing her umbrella and resting it on the rack. As she began to peruse the shelves, her steps inevitably led her to the section dedicated to tales of murder and mystery. Though she feigned ignorance, her true desires lay hidden beneath a veil of innocence.

“Miss, is something wrong? You’ve been standing there for quite some time,” Jenny inquired, her curiosity piqued by Ms. Ashley’s prolonged contemplation.

With a practiced smile reserved for special occasions, Ms. Ashley masked her true intentions as she engaged Jenny in conversation.

“Strangely, I can’t seem to control my expressions well these days. I wonder if it’s my diet, filled to the brim with meat,” she mused inwardly, adjusting her demeanor to appear nonchalant.

As Jenny provided a synopsis of a particularly intriguing novel titled “The Masks of Society,” Ms. Ashley listened intently, her mind weaving through the labyrinth of words to unravel the hidden meanings within. The tale of a boy ensnared by a cult resonated with her in unexpected ways, each word a thread leading her deeper into the shadows of the narrative.

“The boy has to figure out how to get out of this without being killed or sacrificed,” Jenny explained wearily, her fatigue evident from the repetition of similar inquiries.

With a nod of gratitude, Ms. Ashley accepted the book, its cover a gateway to the unknown realms of human nature and the masks we wear to conceal our true selves. As she held it in her hands, she couldn’t help but wonder if she, too, wore such a mask, hiding her own secrets behind a facade of normalcy.

“Excuse me, but what’s the name of the boy in the book?” Ashley’s query interrupted Jenny’s browsing through the pages as she searched for the character’s name.

“It’s Sammy. It’s quite simple in my opinion, but what can you do?” Jenny responded, unaware of the sinister implications behind Ashley’s question. Ashley’s surprise quickly morphed into a hunger—a hunger for something far darker than Jenny could imagine. There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the growl of Ashley’s insatiable appetite.

Unknowingly walking into the trap, Jenny innocently inquired, “Oh, what are you going to eat when you get home?” Ashley’s grin widened, revealing a glimpse of her true nature.

“Lately, I have been having nothing but meat for dinner as usual, but it’s starting to affect my body, so I’m thinking I should have something different this time. What do you think I should have?” Ashley’s chuckle sent shivers down Jenny’s spine, though she laughed along nervously.

“It looks like you’re happy this afternoon. As for your dinner, you should have Alfredo,” Jenny suggested, oblivious to the sinister undertones in Ashley’s question.

“It doesn’t require a lot of meat, and the vegetables in it can help balance out the protein you consume regularly,” Jenny continued, unaware of the danger she was unwittingly feeding into. Ashley considered the suggestion with feigned interest.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense, but I’m not sure if it will balance the ‘protein’ I consume. I’ll have to research it to be sure, but thank you for the idea,” Ashley replied, her words laced with a chilling ambiguity. She settled into one of the beanbags, engrossed in her book until she reached page 52, where she checked it out and prepared to depart.

With a wave goodbye to Jenny, Ashley opened her umbrella and left the bookstore. Jenny waved back, unaware of the dark thoughts brewing in Ashley’s mind as she walked away.

“Such a shame that it has to be Mr. Carpenter; however, it was bound to happen, and he has been annoyingly curious about things he shouldn’t be curious about. Maybe when I dispose of him, I can use his blood mixed with this new whipped cream I made back at the shop. That would make a delicious new treat for the shop,” Ashley mused to herself, her thoughts veering into the macabre.

Sam sat at the café, his coffee nearly drained and his plate now bare save for a few lingering crumbs. Upon spotting Ashley, he greeted her with a warm smile.

“Oh, I see you had a good time at the bookstore,” he remarked casually.

“Your new employee tried his best to make your special coffee, but the fella didn’t really do a good job with it,” Ashley responded, her tone light and amused.

“Who, Jayson? If it was him, then I haven’t taught him how to make my special coffee yet,” she chuckled in reply.

“Well, that explains it, but I have been a bit curious about what makes that coffee so good. What’s in the coffee that makes it so special?” Sam inquired, genuine curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“Shut up, you incompetent waste of air,” Ashley thought to herself, her smile never faltering despite the internal disdain.

After a brief pause, Ashley’s grin widened, and she leaned in slightly.

“Well, since you are one of my regulars, I’ll tell you. You see, there is a certain kind of milk that I make that mixes with the coffee and dessert. That’s all I can tell you so my rivals don’t find out,” she explained with a playful chuckle.

“Alright, sorry mate, I was just curious since you never mentioned it. Though I see why you wouldn’t want to tell people what makes your café good,” Sam laughed as he handed her a signed check and a few bills.

Ashley’s smile deepened, and she leaned back, her blood-red lips forming words with a hint of mystery, “Haha, I’m glad you understand now; however, I wasn’t making it obvious either,” she said, her hand subtly concealing a sinister intent.

“I see. What book did you get while you went to the bookstore?” Sam inquired, changing the subject.

“It’s a horror novel called “The Masks of Society.” The main character’s name is Sammy, and he has to find a way to escape his fate in the book,” Ashley responded, her tone shifting to match the intrigue of the tale.

“HA! What a coincidence!” Sam chuckled, glancing at his watch. “Well, tell me about the book when you finish it, but I have to go,” he said, waving goodbye as he headed towards his pickup truck.

As Sam walked away, his phone buzzed with a message: “Zhara.”

ZHARA: “I won’t be home; I have to take the kids to their friend’s house.”

He sighs to himself and texts back

SAM: “Alright, when will you be back?”

Annoying sow.

ZHARA: “In an hour, so 6:30 p.m.”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh as he settled into the driver’s seat of his truck, the engine rumbling to life beneath him.

“God, she is annoying. Ugh, I need a beer,” he grumbled to himself, his hand reaching instinctively for the cold can stashed in the backseat.

“Then again, she is less annoying than the other one,” he added with a cynical chuckle as he cracked open the beer, taking a long sip before pulling out of the café’s parking lot.

Meanwhile, back at the café, Ashley noticed Sam’s wallet left behind on the table where he had been sitting.

“Oh, it looks like Mr. Carpenter left his wallet with his address,” Ashley remarked to her employees, her eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam.

“I can give it to him,” one of her employees offered helpfully.

“No, it’s fine. I can give it to him since I need to ask him something,” Ashley insisted, tucking the wallet into her purse as she prepared to leave.

By the time Sam arrived home at 4:46 p.m., the sun had begun its slow descent beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the rustic landscape surrounding his cabin. Shedding his coat, hat, and gloves, Sam grabbed a beer from the fridge before settling onto the worn gray couch in his living room.

The cabin exuded a rugged charm, with its rock-patterned tiled floor providing a sturdy foundation for the cozy interior. A small white refrigerator hummed softly beside the couch, while a medium-sized smart TV perched on a wooden stand offered entertainment in the otherwise quiet space. As Sam flicked on the TV and took another swig of his beer, the familiar voices of a sitcom filled the room, temporarily drowning out the thoughts swirling in his mind.