Capítulo 263: Chapter 263
The town of Waverbrook wasn't much to look at. Small, quiet, the kind of place people forgot existed once they left. It hadn't always been like that. It had once been full of life, bustling with festivals, markets, children running down the streets with ice cream on their faces. That was before.
Before the Chocolate Man.
It was hard to pin down exactly when things changed, but there were whispers. Not the kind that carried across the wind, but the kind that showed up at the edges of your peripheral vision. The kind you didn't talk about but still knew was there, lurking behind smiles and small talk. People stopped going out after dark. They closed their blinds earlier. They locked their doors tighter. The market stalls grew emptier, the laughter quieter.
It all started with an old van that appeared one autumn evening. It was a rusty thing, beat-up and worn, with a faded sign on the side: Sweet Delights. The words were done in an ornate, curling script, the kind you'd expect to find in a fairy tale, but there was something unsettling about it. The van was parked outside the school just as the sun dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows over the playground.
Riley, barely fourteen, was the first to see it. She was on her way home from the park when she spotted the van. She didn't know why, but it made her skin crawl. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and her steps slowed. Her friends had all gone inside, already talking about the latest gossip or schoolwork or whatever else high school kids cared about, but Riley kept walking toward the van, her eyes fixed on it.
The man who stepped out was tall, his face hidden under the brim of a wide hat. He wore an apron that looked far too pristine for someone in the candy business, and his hands were gloved, even as the evening air began to cool. He looked like a figure from some forgotten era, his movements precise, deliberate.
And then there was the smell. Rich, thick, and sweet. It wasn't just the smell of chocolate—it was something else, something deeper. Like burnt sugar, or something older, something trapped in time.
"Would you like a treat, little miss?" His voice was low, like he'd practiced it for years. It was smooth, almost too smooth.
Riley, confused but curious, nodded. She had no reason not to, after all. The town had a history of random vendors popping up now and then. The man opened a drawer at the side of the van, pulling out a small, shiny piece of chocolate. He held it out to her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His teeth, too white against the darkness, seemed to glint in the dim light.
"Go on," he said, a tone of encouragement slipping through his lips. "It's very good. Just a bite."
Something about it didn't sit right with her, but Riley took the chocolate anyway. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the man's eyes, locked on hers with an intensity that left her breathless. Or maybe it was the sheer loneliness of the moment—standing there, the only one in the dark, with only a stranger and his candy.
It tasted like nothing she had ever experienced—rich and warm, smooth on her tongue, and yet, something about it felt wrong. It slid down her throat like silk, but she could feel it in her chest, something thickening in her breath, a heaviness she couldn't place.
She smiled, despite the unease. "Thank you," she muttered, backing away.
The man's smile didn't falter, but his eyes followed her every step as she turned to leave. "Remember," he called out, voice louder now, more commanding, "There's always more where that came from."
It wasn't until she reached home that the feeling truly began to settle in her stomach. She'd eaten chocolate before—every Halloween, every birthday, every holiday—but none of it had felt like this. She couldn't shake the sensation, the unease, the haunting taste that lingered in her mouth long after the sweetness faded.
And then, the next day, it happened again.
The van was back, parked in the same spot, the same man standing in front of it, holding out his treats to anyone who walked by. This time, the smell seemed stronger, more oppressive, as if it clung to the air. Riley didn't want to go near it. She didn't want to look at it, but she couldn't stop herself. The temptation was too strong.
This time, she didn't take the chocolate. But it didn't matter.
The Chocolate Man noticed her hesitation and gave a smile that made her stomach twist. "You'll come back," he said, more to himself than to her. "I always find my way back to the ones who taste me."
And it was true. Riley tried to stay away. She tried to warn her friends. They laughed it off. They didn't believe her.
By the end of the week, the town was different. People didn't walk outside after dark anymore. They didn't go to the market. People began disappearing. A child here, a woman there, a man who wandered out for a smoke and never came back. Their names faded from memory. They became stories told by the remaining townsfolk, stories told in hushed voices behind closed doors.
The Chocolate Man had come, and he had begun to take his toll. He had been taking people for years, or so it seemed, and now, his claim on the town was complete.
And then, one day, Riley was gone.
The van had come again, just like the first time, but this time, it wasn't the same. The smell was worse. He didn't try to coax anyone. He didn't offer chocolate. No one came near him. The only one left was Riley, her eyes wide, hands shaking, her body like it had been drained of life.
She had tasted it again. She had eaten it. She couldn't resist. The town had fallen to the Chocolate Man, and Riley was the last.
The van left, the man's figure fading into the distance, his black hat swallowed by the endless dark. No one dared to go near him anymore.
They hadn't seen the van again for weeks, and Riley's name faded just like everyone else's.
But the people of Waverbrook knew. They knew the town had been marked, cursed. Every night, when the streets were quiet, the smell of chocolate would fill the air, thick and cloying, like it was pressing in from all sides. You'd never see him, but you'd smell him. And you'd know, in the pit of your stomach, that he was coming.
No one dared to leave their homes now. No one dared to venture out after dusk.
And the town? The town became empty. The few who remained locked themselves in, never venturing out, waiting for the inevitable return of the van.
Waverbrook, once a place of laughter and warmth, had become a hollow shell of its former self. But no one talked about the Chocolate Man anymore. Not after that last night. Because everyone knew the truth: it wasn't just chocolate that he offered. He offered something much worse.
He offered eternity.
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