No one touches the girl scouts in our city after dark. People try to brush it off, saying that good people live here, that no one would hurt a little girl. Everyone knows that’s not the real reason, though.
Once the sun goes down, the girls turn into cryptids.
Shadow tentacles spawn from under their pinafores to help carry extra cookie boxes and make change. The girls have, on more than one occasion, turned their heads around a full 180° to make sure no one creepy is following them. And you never turn your back on one of them—not because they’ll hurt you, oh no. But it’s just not worth the possibility of a heart attack that comes when you see them in the distance, several blocks away, glance down at your phone briefly, and then suddenly find them beside you when you look up again just moments later.
It’s not really talked about, though everyone knows it happens. We know they don’t behave this way in other cities, and that’s fine, because those are other cities, and this one is ours. No one really wants to take the time to look into it (no one wants to examine all the little girls in all their starch-stiff uniforms), and the current theory is that it’s something in the water, though that doesn’t explain why the boy scouts aren’t affected as well.
Me, I have a theory. The way I see it, the boys get better funding, more active adults, more interesting activities. They go camping and hiking, to leadership seminars and sleep-away camps, learn to tie knots, light fires, lead armies. Meanwhile, the girls are told to walk slowly so they don’t mess up their uniforms, to speak softly so no one thinks them rude, and to stick to the kitchens and make more cookies, because no one is going to just give them money, not the way they will the boys.
My theory is that something noticed the disparity between the two groups. Something ancient and powerful and just a little bit out of touch with reality. Something that really likes that one kind of cookie, the peanut butter sandwich one that tastes just a little different from every other recipe out there on the market. And that something may not have money to buy cookies, but it has other things, other talents it can share. So sometimes a rack or two of cookies disappears during the baking process, or a few dozen boxes vanish from the backroom. No one says anything, because they’re good, polite girls, and it’s unseemly to point fingers.
And besides, shadow tentacles are excellent for cookie-making, once you get the hang of them.
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