There was a bloodstain on the baseball hat.

It was creepy to say the least. Casually hanging there on the hat rack at the entrance to the party but with a slow, thick drii-ip as the blood dropped to the floor.

Hand frozen in the moment I noticed the blood, my ratty fur stole started to shake half way to a hook… it was telling that I was scared.

This was Cynthia’s party. She ALWAYS went all out and the bloody cap was in keeping with the ‘Little Op Shop of Horrors’ dress up theme, but somehow I knew it was real.

I could feel her eyes on me, so I completed the movement, hung up my stole and turned – horrendous 80’s ball dress flaring as I did so – to hug her.

“Happy birthday darling! GREAT party!!!! Everyone looks shocking!”. Her eyes narrowed, two many verbal exclamation marks, I’d have to cool it if I hoped to get through tonight.