Death By Chocolate

The Raven Archives…

Death by Chocolate

by

Dr. I. Seymour Youngblood

Copyright © 2015 by Dr. I. Seymour Youngblood

All Rights Reserved.

To My Grandmothers Ella Rose & Velma:

Always there with sage advice &

a comforting hug.

Sometimes, that’s all you need.

Chapter One

img1.jpg What Are They?

"People think that I must be a very strange person.

This is not correct. I have the heart of a small boy.

It is in a glass jar on my desk."

-Stephen King

W-girls were a breed unto themselves. They were determined, hard-working, funny, kind of athletic, smart-ish, pretty, loyal to one another, skeptical of outsiders, and fashionable. Always fashionable. They were also independent thinkers, living outside the box and creating their own looks like two stylish savants. W-girls Rule Number 9: W-girls don’t need anyone other than W-girls.

They were cheerleaders, just not on the squad. But they were determined to make it this year. They didn’t do it for the praise or the fame or the popularity, as W-girl Rule Number 10 stated: "W-girls don’t care about popularity. W-girls are popularity." They cheered because they loved it.

They were also entrepreneurs. They dreamed of opening a karaoke club. It would be the coolest destination in town, and it would sit next to their cheerleading studio as well as their tres chic designer clothing store.

Listen, you can do it, Wynona reassured her friend. There is nothing a W-girl can't do. And what do we always say?

Winnie mumbled a response as she swung her arms in a frustrated, childish motion.

What's that? Wynona asked, dramatically widening her eyes and lifting a hand to her ear.

What one girl can do, a W-girl can do, Winnie answered.

In her best drill sergeant voice, Wynona barked, I can't hear you.

What one W-girl can do, the other can do, Winnie yelled back, a smile creeping across her face.

I still can't hear you, Wynona screamed.

Then turn up your hearing aid, grandma, Winnie yapped in response.

The two girls giggled. Wynona and Winnie had been best friends since pre-K when Mrs. Rainier, their teacher, gave them the nickname the W-girls because they were inseparable from the very first day. They lived two blocks away from one another. They studied together. They walked to school together. They shopped at the same stores. They dressed identically. They did each other's hair. They spent the night at each other's house anytime they wanted. They went together like cake and ice cream. The girls were together so often it became obvious they were a package deal.

Wynona adjusted Winnie's ponytail. Are you totally stoked about tonight?

Stoked? Are we bringing ‘stoked’ back? Winnie asked as her friend finished fixing her hair.

I thought we would try it out. What do you think?

With a big smile, Winnie answered, I'm totes stoked, lady.

Nice, Wynona said with an approving nod.

Tonight was a big deal on the W-girl calendar. The girls were not going to the mall, nor was the new One Direction CD dropping. No, tonight the girls were getting their hair done.

After we get this cheer routine down, we'll get our hair did. At the tryouts, they won't know what hit them. We'll look crazy hot, lady, Wynona said with a tilt of her hip and flick of her hair.

Today they wore their hair shoulder length in a soft brunette-auburn color they called Ivy League studious. It was somewhere between Natalie Portman and the adorkable Zooey Deschanel. They even sported Tina Fey frames.

By tomorrow morning, they would be identical twin Elle Woodses. They were bringing back the Reese Witherspoon Legally Blonde look—a W-girls favorite movie. It was a classic.

As Wynona reset the song on her iPad, Winnie raised her ponytail and fanned her sweaty neck. Wynona positioned herself in the center of the room. Big smile, and five, six, seven, eight!

Right on cue, Wynona performed the cheerleading routine flawlessly while Winnie stopped halfway through. When Wynona finished, she flashed her smile as if to say ta-dah.

Winnie clapped with a reserved level of applause. You make it look so easy, Y, but when I do it, I look like Ira's cat jumping around chasing a penlight.

Wynona snorted. His cat is the dumbest cat ever.

Winnie nodded. If they held a contest for world's dumbest cat, he would win in a landslide.

But Kanye West would rip the microphone out of its paws during his acceptance meow at the MTV Feline Awards.

The two girls giggled.

When we go to college, let's get a cat and name him Kanye Pest, Winnie offered.

Wynona nodded in agreement. "What about Kan-stray West?"

That would be purr-fect.

The girls laughed. Wynona reset the song to the beginning. Let's do it a few more times and then we will take a break.

Winnie moaned.

We have to practice. If we have any hopes of making the squad, we have to practice, Wynona said.

Winnie crossed her arms and dropped her head. Maybe you should do cheerleading and I will just do twirling.

Wynona's mouth dropped open; her eyes bulged as if her best friend just informed her maybe they should not be friends forever. No way. W-girls don't divide and conquer. We just conquer. We never divide, we only multiply! It was a nice sentiment, but there would never be any additions to the W-girls. Although every snowflake remains unique, occasionally two of them become interlocked.

A tiny smile crept across Winnie's face.

Let's do this fast. You got this, lady Wynona said as she prepared to restart the music once more.

Winnie took a drink from her Smart water, through a straw of course, then assumed her position. Years ago, while riding their bikes, the two girls found an old, abandoned, brick building on the outskirts of the industrial district. It was a perfect secret hideout. There were lots of windows and wide, open space. The W-girls played hide-and-seek, practiced cheerleading, decorated it how they saw fit, and even planned how it would look when they converted it to a karaoke club. It was great for dancing and twirling and cheering as well as archery, when they were in their Katniss phase.

In the early days, the girls’ only concerns were the occasional rusty nail. Today, the industrial district was becoming quite trendy, so they had to be careful sneaking in and out. Realtors frequented the building with potential clients, but most spent only a few minutes before passing on the eyesore. The W-girls saw it for what it could be...the greatest karaoke club ever. It would be called Katy-oke and specialize in Katy Perry songs.

The heavy grinding sound of ungreased metal on metal echoed through the abandoned building as the large factory doors slid open. The two girls froze in their current cheer position.

Someone's here, Wynona said softly. She went to the door and poked her head around the corner.

Who is it? Winnie asked quietly as she leaned over her friend's shoulder.

Wynona's neck snaked out further. I don't know. They look like little people.

A wave of anxiety overcame her. C'mon, Wynona, let's go, Winnie said as she scrambled to the open office window and the awaiting fire escape. Winnie had one leg already out of the building.

The two girls had never been caught, but that was because they knew every hiding place. If they were ever caught, it would be bad. Wynona's father was overprotective and dispensed discipline the way a know-it-all offers their two cents. Commonly, the tighter an overbearing parent squeezes, the more the child squirms to free themselves. Wynona was a squirmer.

It wasn't because Wynona liked getting in trouble; it was because she was inquisitive. Her curiosity was the stuff of legend—Curious George level. In first grade, their teacher, Mrs. Lock, told the class not to open the closet because she hid their Halloween decorations in there. Who was the one peaking in the closet? Wynona. Who was keeping a look-out? Winnie.

And which class came back from recess to find their room decorated for Halloween a month early? The W-girls'…and it looked fabulous.

Wynona paused before closing the office door. Why would someone be here at five o'clock on a weekend?

Let's check it out, she said with a devilish grin.

Winnie did what she always did. She whined and then reluctantly followed.

From the second story walkway, the girls could see a dozen short-statured men all wearing dirty overalls, flannel shirts, and waddling like penguins at the zoo.

Who are they? Winnie asked in a whisper.

Wynona shook her head, then belly-crawled to the ledge for a better look. From their new position, they watched as more and more diminutive men entered the factory.

There’s something wrong about them. Winnie nervously chewed her watermelon-flavored bubble gum. They look like hobbits with crazy hair. Do you think they are all related?

Wynona shrugged.

Each of the workers carried a large wooden crate. They waited in a circle without speaking until a tall, sickly pale man with a thick head of hair and long scar across his face walked into the building. He was holding a bullwhip and a clipboard.

That must be the boss, Wynona pointed out. Albino Indiana Jones.

Why? Because he's the one with the whip? He should really wear it like a scarf.

This elicited a snort out of Wynona.

The two girls jumped from the deafening crack of the boss's whip. It echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse and pierced their ears. Hurry, you pathetic wastes of space, he snarled and cracked the whip again. Those crates go in the far corner. Put the copper tubing against the north wall, the supports go in the middle with the boilers, stoves, and ovens. He cracked the whip again. Move it!

Winnie tugged on Wynona’s arm. She pointed at the ground. The shadow cast by the man with the whip took up the entire length of the factory floor. Despite the man’s movements, the shadow seemed to grow until it was crawling up the far wall. Winnie swore the shadow was grinning at them. She shivered with fear. Let’s get out of here.

Double time it, he sneered with another crack of the whip.

Yes, Sabyr, the tiny workers answered as they quickened their pace.

The cracking of the boss man’s whip did more than motivate the diminutive, thickset workers. It also forced Winnie and Wynona to cover