In the small, sleepy town of Worcester, nestled among rolling hills, there was an unusual shop that always seemed out of place—a haberdashery run by an eccentric old man. The shelves brimmed with peculiar trinkets, buttons, and hats that no one seemed to need. Locals said the shop carried a darker history, but no one ever had the courage to ask.
One rainy afternoon, Valentina, a cherubic toddler with wild curls and an unsettlingly wide smile, skipped into the shop clutching a Hershey's chocolate bar. Her parents, blissfully unaware, had left her to roam freely while they browsed the nearby bookstore.
The old man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. "What brings you here, little one?" he asked.
Valentina's large eyes sparkled with mischief as she plopped her chocolate onto the counter. "You have sharp scissors," she said sweetly.
Flabbergasted by her request, the man chuckled nervously. "Aren't you a bit young for crafts?"
Without missing a beat, Valentina reached into her tiny coat pocket and pulled out a crude, hand-drawn list. The words "Mr. Higgs - Haberdashery" were scrawled at the top. Beneath it were names crossed out in crayon.
"You're next," she whispered with a giggle, her grin now unnervingly wide.
The old man froze, a cold shiver running down his spine. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Who taught you this game?"
Valentina shrugged, her small fingers already reaching for the scissors on the counter. "Nobody," she replied, "but I always win."
The bell above the shop's door jingled as her parents returned, laughing about their bookstore finds. Valentina smiled sweetly at them, her innocent facade firmly back in place.
As they walked out hand-in-hand, the old man locked the shop door, his hands trembling. For the first time in decades, he considered closing the haberdashery for good.
Valentina glanced back, her Hershey's bar still on the counter. "I'll come back for that later," she called, her voice like a melody—but to Mr. Higgs, it was a promise.
THE END
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