The box contained a mechnical elephant,
a pair of plastic Halloween fangs, and a dried rose that had once been pink.
There was a spot of dried blood on the fangs, the elephant was approximately
the size (if not shape) of a loaf of bread, and the rose disintegrated when he
tried to lift it out of the box. The whole kit went into the fireplace, and
when the elephant caught it issued a rusty trumpet whose timbre reminded Smirk
of an owl. As the synthetic flesh burned away and the toy’s black inner workings
were revealed, the metal rings that formed the orbits of its eyes fell and rang
on the hearthstone.
“To die, to die, in the chimes of the
eyes,” he said in a singsong voice, and a pitiless smile dimpled his pale,
drawn cheeks.
“Don’t ask me why. Don’t ask me why.”
The crackling fire threw his shadow
across his victims’ dark den. He hunched in his black coat among the stacks of
moving boxes, pulling another one closer.
