Candy Curse

Easter was always the busiest season for Mathias Grayson, the famed chocolatier of the quaint town of Willowridge. His confections were renowned—velvety truffles, delicate pralines, and his pièce de résistance: intricately molded chocolate Easter eggs filled with hidden surprises. People came from miles around to buy his creations, enchanted by their taste and beauty.

But Mathias had a secret. Years ago, he had stolen the recipe for his chocolates. Not from another chocolatier, but from an old, bent woman who lived deep in the forest. She had been known as Mother Solange, a recluse whispered to be a witch. Desperate for fame and fortune, Mathias had visited her, promising payment for her knowledge. Instead, he had fled with her recipe book, leaving her to curse his name.

This year, as Easter approached, Mathias felt a strange compulsion. His hands worked feverishly, creating chocolates unlike any he had ever made. The molds seemed to guide him, forming twisted shapes—serpents, staring eyes, grasping hands—hidden beneath the gleaming shells of his Easter eggs. He tried to stop, but it was as though something else had taken control.

When the eggs were finally displayed in his shop, they sold out within hours. Each egg came with a curious inscription on the wrapper: "Savor the gift of renewal." The townsfolk thought it was an Easter gimmick, another clever touch from the chocolatier.

That night, the curse began to take hold.

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Clara Beaumont was the first. She had been ecstatic to win the golden egg, an enormous chocolate creation filled with candy jewels. She brought it home, eager to share it with her husband and children. But as soon as she took a bite, her demeanor changed. Her eyes went glassy, and her body stiffened like a puppet on strings. She rose from the table, her half-eaten chocolate egg tumbling to the floor, and began whispering in a language no one recognized.

Her family watched in horror as Clara left the house, walking into the night with mechanical precision.

By morning, the town was in chaos. Dozens of people had fallen victim to the chocolates. The afflicted wandered the streets, murmuring strange incantations, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Some carried candles, others tools, and all moved toward the woods.

Mathias woke to pounding on his door. Sheriff Hale and a group of furious townsfolk stood outside, clutching the uneaten chocolates they had confiscated from neighbors.

“What the hell did you do?” the sheriff demanded, throwing one of the eggs at Mathias’s feet. The chocolatier stared at the fragments, the dark chocolate oozing a viscous, crimson liquid that looked disturbingly like blood.

“I... I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Mathias stammered, his voice trembling. “It’s the curse. It’s—Mother Solange.”

“Who the hell is Mother Solange?” the sheriff snapped.

Mathias explained everything: the stolen recipe, the curse, the compulsion to create the eggs. “She said I would pay,” he whispered. “She said the sweets would bring her back.”

“What do you mean ‘bring her back’?” one of the townsfolk asked.

But before Mathias could answer, the church bells began to ring. The sound was wrong—slow and discordant, each toll echoing with an unnatural vibration. The townsfolk turned toward the forest, where the afflicted had gathered, forming a massive circle around a clearing.

Mathias knew what was happening. The curse wasn’t just to punish him—it was to complete a ritual. Mother Solange was returning.

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The group ventured into the woods, armed with torches and whatever weapons they could find. The afflicted stood in eerie silence, their eyes fixed on a stone altar in the center of the clearing. Symbols etched into the altar glowed faintly, pulsing in time with the tolling bells.

Mathias recognized the symbols from the stolen book. They were ancient runes, designed to summon a spirit from the beyond. Atop the altar lay a massive chocolate egg, its surface writhing as though something inside was trying to escape.

Before anyone could act, the egg cracked.

From within emerged a grotesque figure, her form a twisted parody of a human. Her skin was dark and glossy like melted chocolate, her eyes glowing embers. Vines and roots coiled around her limbs, and her mouth stretched into a grin that revealed jagged teeth.

“Mathias,” she said, her voice a low, resonant growl. “You stole my magic, my legacy. Now, you will witness my rebirth.”

The afflicted turned toward the group, their movements jerky and unnatural. They advanced, weapons raised, their glowing eyes devoid of humanity.

“Destroy the egg!” Mathias shouted, pointing to the altar. “It’s the source of her power!”

The townsfolk hesitated, but the sheriff acted first. He rushed toward the altar, smashing the chocolate remnants with his axe. The glowing runes dimmed, and the afflicted faltered, collapsing to the ground.

Mother Solange let out an ear-piercing shriek, her form cracking and melting like overheated chocolate. “This isn’t over, thief,” she spat before dissolving into a puddle of darkness.

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The afflicted woke with no memory of what had happened. The town tried to move on, but the scars remained. The woods were declared off-limits, and Mathias’s shop was burned to the ground.

As for Mathias, he disappeared the next day, leaving behind only a single note: "Beware the taste of temptation." And somewhere deep in the forest, the remains of the altar still hummed with faint energy, waiting for someone else to stumble upon its dark power.