Curdled & Caked

Curdled & Caked

On the steps of Curdle Clocktower, a female Occultist peers through the sluicing rain and takes in the barely visible streets and shopfronts as the pack of rabid dogs circle her companion. He appears unconcerned, looking beyond their snarling, snapping jaws to squint into the darkness. ‘It’s all empty.’ Whispers the man.

In unison, they hold out their right hand and move it as though drawing something up and into their palms from the ground. Quickly, bulbous, tar-like bubbles drift in viscous clusters towards their hands which they then push toward the growling pack. The dogs appear confused for a moment as, by osmosis the blackened bubbles become one with their minds. The Occultists smile at one another, their influence complete and irrefutable in just a few seconds. ‘Good dogs.’ The woman says, a smirk playing about her lips as the dogs sit at their feet. ‘Shall we?’


The inside of the Clocktower building is surprisingly bright and cheerful after the dank and dreary streets of Curdle Village. Members of the community talk in small groups as steaming plates of hot food change hands and spread about the hall.

Issadora Curdle moves from group to group, checking in on each of the villagers as they light up at the sight and smell of the feast being provided for them by the Occultists. She pauses to incline her head as though in deep and studious thought whilst an older witch with orange, wispy hair and wiry spectacles talks to her. With a laugh, the Countess moves on and the witch joins a group of residents. Posters asking for people to join the Occultists cause litter the otherwise clean white walls about them and some villagers are heard to be seriously considering it. Cloaked figures mill about, topping up drinks and joining in the general merriment happening about them. Inside these doors, the misery and hardship of their situation is forgotten as they reconnect with friends.

Blossom Jinx, still wearing her emerald cloak quietly sips a golden nectar from a glass, surrounded by children of varying ages. She smiles as Issadora approaches and whispers something to her. Rising, Blossom’s face turns very nearly as red as her hair when some Occultists bring forth a massive cake. A collective gasp echoes about the hall followed by delighted clapping as Blossom cuts the first slice. Issadora inclines her head and sets about ensuring the children all receive their pieces first.

Amongst the din and excitement, Zinnia guides her children towards a roaring fire, settling them in as the Countess hands them a slice of cake each. Their faces light up with joy as warm and cosy, they tuck in to the sweet treat.

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