The surroundings are glowing bright in the setting afternoon sun, that slowly turns into a shade of red. The smoke, hanging thick in the air by the BBQ, makes the heat of the disappearing day even more unbearable, for those who bothered.
Bowels of salad, fruit, bread and other delicious looking and smelling things are passed along the tables, losing something with every hand that touches them. The sound of meat sizzling on the grill mixes with laughter and light conversation around the garden. Everyone is enjoying themselves. Behind the window on the second floor of the house, paper birds are visible through the window, who seem to fly effortlessly in the air.
"Hey Carol, where is Mallory?" In the wind her ocean blue dress moves like waves as she approaches her childhood friend. "Hi dear, you look lovely". Carol's voice is smooth and calm, as always. Her eyes take in every little detail, even those who shouldn't be seen. "How is the party? I feel like I'm just running around. I havent even said hi to everyone yet." A smile covers her lips, amusement and exhaustion reach her eyes. Holding out a plate, to offer a burger with meat from the grill, she was about to bring on a table in the shade of the house. Thankfully taking one and praising the cook -Carol's husband- for his excellent work at the barbecue. "Everyone is wondering where you got the meat from, it's so good." Before she can get an answer the woman, in the black dress, is called by her husband. Leaving her friend standing there.
The moment she places the plate on the table, two of the neighbour boys take one, thanking her with a smile. As she walks up to her husband, her eyes watch all the people in the garden, her neighbours and friends that are so carefree. "Can you get some more meat, I dont have anymore up here?" he whispers in her ear, his breath is cold in the heat of the day. With knife and plate in hand she goes through the kitchen, into the living room, to the hall and then down the cold concrete steps and the sharp stone walls into the cellar. The air gets cold and damp, the laughter barely audible. In the basement she opens the door to a room, the smell is bad, she twitches her nose in disgust.
Kneeling down on the floor she takes the knife and cuts the meat into small pieces. With caution she places the slices on the plate. The meat is fresh. The bones white. She is about to leave the room, but before she does, she takes a last look, but there is nothing the person in the black dress has not seen before: The floor is covert in dried blood. The flesh is cold. Parts chopped of. Letters are written with the last dying breath and blood on the white tiled floor, they read I'm sorry followed by something illegible. Eyes, still filled with fear seem to look at her, asking for help they will never get. Her daughter was a disappointment, a disgrace, like her sister before. Weak.
