By Ryan Fortune
The days on Briar Ridge passed quietly, but tension simmered beneath the surface of the Jenkins family as the 1930s took hold. Grace, once the youngest and most beloved, began to change in ways that unsettled her mother, Emily.
At first, it was subtle — the farm animals became restless. Chickens scattered nervously, and the cows would startle at the smallest sound. Emily noticed, but with so much to worry about, she pushed it aside.
It started with a lamb. Grace was supposed to feed it, but instead, she took it to the barn where no one could hear its cries. When Emily found the lamb dead, she assumed it had simply been too weak to survive. Nathan buried it without question, but a dark suspicion lingered in Emily’s mind.
The deaths continued. A calf with a broken leg, a chicken found with its neck twisted. Emily kept her fears to herself, not wanting to worry Nathan, but as the weeks passed, her unease grew.
Grace, meanwhile, grew more reckless. In the secluded barn, she tormented the animals — testing their limits, relishing their pain. She kept her actions well hidden from the rest of the family, meticulously cleaning up the evidence. But one evening, Emily stumbled upon something she couldn’t ignore.
It was dusk when she entered the barn looking for Grace. She heard a faint whimpering from behind the hay bales and crept closer, heart pounding. There, in the dim light, she saw Grace crouched over a rabbit, its fur matted with blood. Grace’s face was calm, almost bored, as she wiped her hands on her skirt.
"Grace," Emily’s voice trembled, "What are you doing?"
Grace stood slowly. "It’s just a rabbit, Mother. They die all the time."
Emily’s stomach churned. "That’s not normal. What you’re doing isn’t right."
For a moment, Grace’s face was blank, but then a slow, mocking smile spread across her lips. "You’ve never cared about me before. Why start now?"
Emily was stunned by her daughter’s words. "Grace, I love you. I’ve always loved you."
"Really?" Grace sneered. "Is that why you let Darryl Finch lock me in the cellar? Why you stood by while he hurt me?"
Emily shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn’t know what to do. I was —"
"Save it!" Grace snapped. "You let him torture me! You let him break me! Now you think you can just waltz in here and fix everything?"
Emily recoiled, her heart pounding in fear. The cold, calculating look in Grace’s eyes was something new, something terrifying. "Grace, please. You need help. We should talk to your father."
Grace’s smile faded. "Tell him whatever you want. He won’t believe you."
That night, when Emily confided in Nathan, her voice shook with fear, but his response was exactly what Grace had predicted.
"She’s been through hell, Em," Nathan said, guilt clouding his eyes. "Maybe she’s acting out, but can you blame her? After what Finch did to her?"
Emily shook her head, frustration bubbling up. "You didn’t see her, Nathan. She’s been hurting the animals. I think she’s getting worse."
Nathan waved her concerns away. "She just needs time. Don’t push her."
And so, a rift began to form. Nathan dismissed Grace’s actions out of guilt, while Emily grew more and more fearful of her own child. Sensing the divide, Grace took full advantage, manipulating her parents with frightening precision. She was sweet to Nathan, earning his trust, while coldly rejecting Emily’s pleas. She turned her siblings against their mother too, sowing discord with whispered lies.
It wasn’t long before things reached a breaking point.
One night, Emily found their beloved dog dead, and it was the last straw. Shaking with rage and fear, she confronted Grace.
"Grace!" Emily screamed. "What is wrong with you?"
Grace stared at her, eyes cold and flat. "He was old. It was his time."
Emily’s hand flew, slapping Grace across the face. For a moment, there was only silence. Then Grace laughed, a hollow, chilling sound.
"You should be careful, Mother," Grace whispered, stepping closer. "People who hurt me… don’t last long."
Later that night, as the family slept, Grace moved through the house like a shadow, knife in hand. Nathan, rushing to defend Emily, was the first to fall, his pleas for mercy drowned in blood. Emily barely had time to scream before Grace’s blade found her too, her face twisted into a grotesque mask of satisfaction.
When the sun rose the next morning, Briar Ridge was silent. The once-thriving farm, now a scene of unimaginable carnage, stood as a grim testament to a family destroyed by guilt, grief, and madness.
Grace stood alone amidst the ruins, her hands stained red, staring out at the horizon as though nothing had happened at all.
The saga of the Jenkins family had come to a brutal, tragic end.
Fortune is a techno-realist who helps businesses adapt to new digital innovations. He can be contacted at https://topmate.io/ ryan_fortune
Saturday Star