Blood Is Thicker Than Chocolate

Pure ecstasy swims through Mrs. Sarah Roth’s mouth as she takes the first bite of chocolate blackberry cake. The moist cake melts in her mouth and is quickly followed by a sweet fruity frosting. A jolt of tangy blackberry tickles her seasoned palate.

She gently places the tiny fork next to a tiny cake slice and sets the plate on her lap. Her mother taught her that a lady saviors her meal with small bits. This helps prevent disturbing her carefully applied makeup. It isn't ladylike to resembles a farm hog feeding, from a trough. Even though the current company hardly deserves such manners a lady must keep up appearances.

Emily Roth a bubbly young girl in her twenties with big blue eyes, blond hair, and rosy cheeks sits across from Mrs. Roth with a pleasant smile.

“What do you think stepmother?”, asks Emily.

Emily had always been a pleasant enough girl when Mrs. Roth's husband had been alive. However, her motives are questionable.

“It’s delightful dear.”, says Mrs. Roth with as much pleasantry as she can muster. “I sense however that you are not here for me to test the quality of your baking.”

Emily’s smile softens. “I must confess I am here to talk to you about father’s will.”

Mrs. Roth prepares herself for this unpleasant conversation by taking another bite of the delicious cake. “I suspected as much.”, Mrs. Roth says as she sets the cake down on the table. “I take it you are looking for an allowance?”

“That would be most kind of you step-mother.”, says Emily.

Feeling her throat to be a little dry Mrs. Roth takes a sip of tea. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”, says after clearing her throat a little.

“May I ask why?”, asks Emily.

Mrs. Roth clears her throat once again and takes another sip of tea. She begins to reply but is stopped by a little cough.

“Are you feeling all right stepmother?”, Emily asks brightly as Mrs. Roth attempts to clear the throat.

“I’m fine.”, Mrs. Roth manages to get out.

“Interesting. I didn’t expect the poison to work so quickly.”

A look of shock and panic jolt into Mrs. Roth’s expression as she realizes Emily isn’t joking.

“You little witch.”, Mrs. Roth says as her breathing becomes labored.

Emily calmly pulls out a folded document from her purse. And place it with a quill and ink in front of Mrs. Roth.

“I have the antidote. All you have to do is to sign over father’s estate to his rightful heirs.”, says Emily cheerfully.

Mrs. Roth’s breath has become much more labored causing her to have to pause frequently.

“I. Will. Do. No Such. Thing.”, Mrs. Roth wheezes out.

Emily pulls out a small vial from her purse and holds it up for Mrs. Roth to see.

“I do hope you reconsider stepmother. The poison works quickly. You don’t have much time.”, says Emily.

Mrs. Roth’s chest feels like it’s being crushed slowly under a thousand rocks. Her ears ring and her nose begins to bleed. She tries to make peace with her last moments, but as she catches her step-daughter’s smug look she becomes angry. I will not let this little witch win, she thinks to herself as she grabs the pen and quickly signs the papers.

Satisfied Emily grabs the documents and blows on the signature. She hands the antidote to her stepmother who quickly guzzles it down forgetting all her lady-like manners.

While Mrs. Roth recovers Emily walks over and pulls the window curtains closed.

“You’ll never get away with this you little harlot.”, says Mrs. Roth.

Emily stands at the last uncovered window and admires the stars as Mrs. Roth dashes over to a writing desk and pulls out a knife. Emily calmly closes the last curtain as Mrs. Roth moves slowly toward her, knife raised.

“Oh but we will step-mother.”, Emily says with a much deeper serious voice. “You see my father failed to tell you something very important about our family.”

With Emily’s back turned toward her Mrs. Roth raises the knife to strike. Emily's spins around her eyes are blood red and her teeth are as sharp as the knife in Mrs. Roth’s hand.

“We like to seal our contracts with blood.”, Emily says as she lunges at Mrs. Roth.

The sound of a grandfather clock striking ten is accompanied by distant screams which are quickly muffled and then silenced. The last chime of the clock fades until there is only the rhythmic sound of tick-tock.