The storm howled outside. Howled like a monster.
Little Marky Dinstuhl was trapped inside his grandfather’s ancient wooden house. His parents had left him here while they’d gone out to dinner.
As he wandered the labyrinthine mansion, something felt wrong. He was sure the howling was coming from inside the house.
He listened intently, following the disembodied noise through the winding halls to a door. A thick, dark, mysterious door. Which Little Marky opened for no good reason.
There he saw it. The horrible thing. Powdery white. Slavering. Howling. Straining against its chains.
Suddenly his grandfather was behind him. His spider-like fingers wrapped painfully tight around Little Marky’s arms.
“You tell anyone, you’ll ruin it all for us! They’ll take all of this away! Throw us in the streets! Maybe even into jail!” He hissed.
His grandfather smelled of whiskey and reeked of madness.
“This is the dark secret of the Dinstuhls! The truth behind our legendary candies!”
He pointed a bone-thin finger at the creature.
“The Albino Sugar Beast of Ling. I sold my soul to a wandering Chinaman for its confectionary secrets. It is our family’s curse. Our family’s legacy! Your legacy!”
The beast howled. Sweetly.
Dinstuhl’s Fine Candy Company has been making amazing confectionary delights in Memphis for over a hundred years. I grew up with them, I patron them to this day, and I’m friends with a member of the family: the Little Marky Dinstuhl in this story. Mark is by no means little and the Dinstuhl candies are by no means made by a demon hellbeast. Even though you might question it for how good they are.