#soft horror

The first time you knock it’s just another door.

Another polite smile. Another quick pitch. Another maybe-sale.

The man who answers looks a little tired—hesitant, even—but before he can say much, something shifts behind his eyes.

A pause.

Then—

“Chocolate.”

A voice murmurs. Not quite his.

He blinks, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You list off what you have anyway. Thin Mints. Caramel chocolate chip. Peanut butter patties. Treefoils. Lemonades. The usual.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, suddenly

“I’ll take… all of those.”

“All of—?”

“All the chocolate ones,” he corrects quickly, already reaching for his wallet.

Behind his eyes, something hums in approval.

Good. Smart choice. We like this one.

He clears his throat, trying to cover it up.

You thank him. Of course you do. It’s a big purchase.

You don’t think much of it. Not yet.

It becomes a pattern after that.

A familiar knock.

A familiar face.

A door that opens faster each time.

Sometimes he’s already there before you even finish knocking.

“You’re early,” Eddie says once.

“They are right on time,” Venom corrects quietly—only for him.

---

You start setting up a table eventually. Less walking, more waiting. A few friends, a supervising adult, neat rows of boxes stacked in careful displays.

He still shows up. Not every time. But enough. Always for the same ones. Always watching a little longer than necessary.

You learn his name somewhere along the way. Maybe you ask. Maybe someone else says it first.

It sticks.

“Thank you, Mr. Eddie!”

The words are light. Casual. Easy.

But something about them lingers.

Eddie pauses, just for a second.

Venom goes completely still.

“…They remember us.”

Eddie exhales. Something softer slips into his expression.

“Yeah,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “Guess they do.”

After that, he starts coming by more often.

Other people stop coming as much.

It’s gradual. Easy to miss.

A regular here. A neighbor there. Gone.

Your stock still sells. He makes sure of it.

“We do not like the others,” Venom admits one evening, voice low.

“They take what is ours.”

“They’re just buying cookies,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

“So are we.”

At home, your parents mention something in passing.

A man asking questions.

Nothing invasive. Nothing too strange.

Just… timing. Days. How long you stay out.

You might brush it off. Or maybe not.

One day, you don’t show up.

No table. No knock. No familiar voice at the door.

Eddie notices. Venom notices first.

“Where are they.”

“I don’t know.”

“You should.”

“I’m not tracking a kid—”

“You should.”

The next time you do show up, it’s like nothing happened.

But the door opens faster than ever.

“You skipped yesterday,” Eddie says a little too quickly.

A pause.

Then, softer—

“…Everything okay?”

Venom lingers closer to the surface this time. You can feel it.

The first time you really see him, it isn’t at the door.

—

It’s later. After. After the shouting. After the running. After the money is gone.

You were counting boxes when someone grabbed the cash off the table.

The mugger thought no one noticed.

Eddie had. He always does.

“Eddie.”

“I see him.”

“He took from them.”

“I know.”

The alley swallows the mugger quickly. Out of sight—but not out of earshot.

There’s the sound of frantic footsteps. Then heavier, slower movements. Something low, massive, shifting—closer than it should be. A noise you can’t quite place, wet and sudden, like… something emerging.

A struggle. Brief. Muffled. Then silence.

Your troop hears the scream. Something nasty. The alley swallows it. They don’t see. They only hear.

When Eddie comes back, it’s almost jarring how normal he looks.

Almost.

Breathing heavier than before. Hair slightly disheveled. Shirt and pants creased, edges darkened by something—dirt, something darker, maybe blood. Something under his fingernails. Not enough to notice unless you’re looking.

He doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t need to.

The money is in his hand. All of it. Held carefully. Too carefully. Like it matters more than it should. Like you do.

“You should be more careful" Eddie says.

Gentler than expected. Quieter. Concern, not anger.

Behind him something shifts. Not fully visible. But there. Watching. Content.

“They will not touch you again

----

Things settle on the surface.

He still buys cookies. Still lingers. Still watches.

Venom speaks more now. Not always where others can hear. But sometimes

“You are safe,” he tells you once.

Up close, his voice isn’t loud. Just… certain.

“We make sure of it.”

You might get used to it. Or maybe you don’t.

Maybe its the way the street feels quieter now. Or how no one interrupts when you’re talking to him. Or how he always seems to know when you’ll be there.

Or mayb it’s the way he says your name. Carefully. Like he plans on remembering it for a very long time.

“We like you,” Venom adds.

A pause. Then softer

“You are ours.”